“Put it in the fire, Georgie.” Prudence pulled off the hat and gloves. She’d bathed after the run at Ophelia’s house, and wore borrowed clothing to take her exercise, but her skin felt sticky and too hot. She couldn’t bear to read a letter from Leo. Not now.
“I don’t want to overstep, but I think you should at least read them.”
Prudence threw down her accessories and took to the nearest chair to take off her walking boots. “I don’t want to talk to him.”
“He needs to talk to you, though.”
“Why? He lived an entire life without me. He certainly doesn’t need me now.” She yanked off one boot and then the other.
“You were present, as was I, for some family secrets we had no business hearing.” Georgie stood and followed Prudence into the bedroom.
“Then you read the letters. You talk to him.”
“I did read this letter,” Georgie said. It should have been a shameful confession, but Georgie wasn’t capable of it.
“That’s quite the overstep, don’t you think?” Prudence said, whirling around on her. “That was my correspondence.”
Georgie didn’t even bother to frown. “It was the fire’s correspondence. There was just a longer time in my handsbefore, is all. And you should read it. He needs someone who might understand.”
Prudence laughed. “There’s no reason I would. My father is lovely. Nothing like Mr. Morgan.”
“It would be a decent thing to do, is all.” Georgie sighed. “Want me to undo your dress?”
It would be quicker than using her buttonholer. “Yes, please. But do I have to read the letter?”
“Yes,” Georgie said placidly, moving in her slow and steady pace across the floor. But soon, her fingers were on the back buttons of Prudence’s dress, deftly peeling open the fabric.
She had a point. Continuing her embargo of all things Leo Moon was childish. They were mature adults, and she could at least read his correspondence.
Prudence put on a more comfortable day dress, and there was a knock at the door. A bellman delivered a note—from Lord Grabe, who was waiting downstairs.
Leo’s letter would have to wait.
*
“SHE’S AVOIDING YOU,”his mother said, sawing away at her lump of meat.
Leo hadn’t tasted his dinner for well over a week now. His father had come by every day, sometimes long visits, sometimes short. Always asking for pocket change for this or that. Which Leo always paid, not begrudging the money, begrudging thetime. There was no reason to believe that Reggie Morgan wanted anything to do with them, he only wanted Leo’s money. Despite Reggie’s very vocal protestations that he was lonely and wanted to spend them with his wife and son, Leo knew the truth: his father wanted coin.
“She isn’t avoiding me.” Leo chewed his food. He swallowed it, not tasting, not caring, just knowing he had to eat. His clothes were getting too loose, and he’d hate to have the added worry of tailoring his entire wardrobe all over again.
“She’s been seen out with Lord Grabe again.” His mother liked to drop bombshells.
This one didn’t detonate. It just dropped and smothered him beneath its weight. “He is quite the catch.” Each word hurt leaving his mouth, but he was glad for it. He wanted something to hurt right now. His world had been upended—first by the joy of Prudence, and now at her utter absence and his father’s presence. Nothing felt right. Nothing feltcorrect.
So he’d poured himself into his ledgers. He increased his correspondence with the men on the floor of the stock market, using their observations to gauge the feelings of the traders. And then he invested, for himself, for his clients. And he made money. That was his daily life, like a mill grinding wheat into flour. Interrupted, of course, by disturbing paternal interludes that emptied his pockets.
But Parliament had ended for the year. Most of his clients had vacated London for their country estates, to hole up and enjoy the winter with their families. Cold had seeped in, and while it had not snowed, the morning frost crusted over shallow puddles, only to break free in the meager afternoon warmth.
His mother kept dabbing her nose with a handkerchief. He’d double the coal order to keep her warm. He hadn’t noticed the chill himself. There was very little he had noticed.
“Lord Grabe has all but announced he’s looking for a wife. Do you think he would dare marry a widowed American?” His mother was incessant.
Leo put down his cutlery. “Is there something you’d like to say, Mama?”
She stared at him a moment, then put down hers as well, giving him absolute attention. “I’m trying to spur you to action.”
“By giving me the latest gossip on Lord Grabe? What action would I have, other than buying the man a celebratory drink?”
