She closed her eyes, not wanting to admit her pettiness, her selfishness. “I—” She couldn’t manage it. “—I only just got your last note.”
He looked pained, as if what she said wasn’t enough. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth, which was a truth she couldn’t admit: that his unwillingness to get the highest bid at the ball hurt her. That his attempt to abandon her in a strange countryside in a foreign country felt like a betrayal of the most basic kind.
But she wanted to hear his side. His absence felt worse than any of these. All of those words clogged in her throat, the emotions spinning out of control.
“I’m glad you’re here.” Leo looked out the window. “Things have changed since the last we spoke.”
Again the panic that swam in the brackish pond of her feelings rose to the surface. The carriage lurched to a stop. Had he met someone else?
“My mother is happy that you came as well,” Leo assured her, getting out first to help her down.
The chill bit into her, and those steps into the house were almost painful on her toes that had only begun to thaw. They entered the house, the familiar foyer, and the boyish footman helped her with her hat and gloves as Mrs. Moon leaned over the first-floor railing.
“Mrs. Cabot!” She looked happier than last Prudence had seen her. There was a blush to her cheeks and a surprising new ease to the way she moved. Behind her came Mr. Morgan.
Prudence startled and looked to Leo.
“Part of the changes,” Leo admitted. But he didn’t look stressed by the man’s presence, only chagrined.
“Come up to the drawing room and warm up, once you have all those sodden layers off you.” Mrs. Moon turned away, leaning on her cane. “Come along, Reggie,” she said to Mr. Morgan, as if he weren’t waiting for her.
Clearly something had changed if Mrs. Moon bossed Mr. Morgan around as if he were her lapdog. She looked to Leo again, and he smiled. “Let’s get you upstairs next to the fire. Cook has prepared a tray for you.”
After Prudence had finally doffed her fur hat and woolen everything else, she noticed the décor. Aside from a shop, she’d never seen a place so festive for the holidays. Pine boughs punctuated with red holly berries and silver bells accentuated every architectural detail. Even the string of red wooden balls lent a festive air, coiled in a large glass bowl, with preserved feathers instead of hothouse flowers.
“This is beautiful,” she said, peering at all the efforts.
“I’d save your praise for the drawing room.” Leo offered his arm to her, and she took it.
Now devoid of so many other layers of fabric, his arm felt like a dose of laudanum. It was pleasure and honey-sweet drunkenness all at once. They ascended the staircase, and the pleasant aroma of cinnamon and cloves, of beeswax and lemon polish, all came floating in around her. Her past homes had never smelled so pleasing, but somehow, this was the most she’d ever felt “at home.”
It was as if the feeling of taking off her shoes and stockings became a scent. The feeling of taking all the pins from her hair,and the corset from her body, and changing out a linen shift damp from the sweat of her body, it was here, embodied in different senses.
And then they entered the drawing room, the epicenter of this harmony. Draped again in pine boughs and silver bells, the spiced scent stronger here, with the crackling fire to warm her, a tray of food, and the welcoming smile of her dear friend, Mrs. Moon.
“Sit here, darling,” Mrs. Moon said, gesturing to the chair next to the fire on one side, and Mrs. Moon on the other.
It didn’t escape Prudence’s notice that Mrs. Moon called her darling. Other than the Spanish Doña who had called everyone darling, no one had felt her dear enough to call her so. It felt extravagant.
Prudence’s toes weren’t the only bits thawing. Her heart ached to belong here, to stay here, to revel in this welcome. Gratefully, she sank into the chair and Leo took up the one nearest to her.He wanted to be next to her!
“It is lovely to see you again, Mrs. Cabot,” Mr. Morgan said from across the small table that held her tray.
“And you, Mr. Morgan.” Prudence smiled, her cheeks hurting with the thawing of her skin. It seemed all had been patched up in the weeks she’d missed Leo. She was happy for them—they seemed complete somehow, more relaxed than she’d ever seen Mrs. Moon. And Mr. Morgan seemed like an altogether gentler person than he had when he’d first met her in her hotel lobby.
“Mr. Morgan is responsible for the decoration you see,” Mrs. Moon said, gesturing to the garlands and bells.
“I beg your pardon,” Leo said with mock indignation.
Prudence couldn’t help but giggle at his teasing tone. They seemed like a family!
“Leo hung it all,” Mr. Morgan admitted.
“Why not have help from your footman?”
Mrs. Moon again waved her hand. “This was a family affair, and needed to be done by the family.”
“They say that, knowing that I was the only one tall enough in this family to do so,” Leo said wryly, but not without affection.
