Chapter 11

Northampton

Later That Same Day

Lady Io glanced at the watch pinned to her bodice. "It is almost five o'clock. Which means that it is well past the time for us to stop shopping and explore the area, Mr. Masterson."

Corbin glanced down at the various lists he'd been tasked with. There were still several items he would need to see to, but at least he'd taken care of all Miss Barrymore's requests.

He closed the small leather journal he used to structure his days, dropped it into his satchel, and then turned to her. "Very well. Do you have a list of where you want to go?"

"List?" She gave him an exasperated look. "We are going to wander."

"Wander?"

"Yes. There is no set agenda, no plan, no itinerary—just going where our feet lead us."

Corbin grunted at that. "Well, lead on, then."

She took an immediate left and Corbin spied a hint of the river directly ahead.

They walked in silence, but it felt companionable, rather than hostile as it had that morning. Was it possible to have normal relations with this woman? Corbin had to admit he was feeling hopeful.

"I was surprised to hear you say that Zeus might donate money to people like the Taylors," she said a moment later, her words dashing his optimism.

He made a noncommittal noise. "Why do your siblings call you Yoyo?" he asked, hoping to derail a potentially dangerous conversation before it could even begin.

She frowned slightly at the change in topics, but then said, "Eva could not say my name when she was little and pronounced it Yoyo. The twins thought that was very amusing, so it has stuck."

"Ah."

They walked for a bit without speaking.

Corbin was just beginning to think he had averted disaster when she spoke. "If somebody of Zeus's status were to support the Taylors, then many others would follow," she said, obviously not willing to be distracted from the issue.

Her words prodded at his conscience, reminding him of all the things he had left unsaid earlier that day; practical, pragmatic, and stringent requirements. Such as the guarantees the duke would inevitably require. Legally binding assurances—with contractual repercussions—that any money he donated did not make its way into either criminal or morally objectionable causes.

And then there was the fact that Hastings would demand a detailed prospectus on where, when, and how such money would be spent. The duke was, after all, a banker to his very marrow. No matter how much he might want to please his sister, he would never just throw money away.

Corbin knew that to say any of that right now would sour the newfound harmony between them.

But to hold his tongue and allow Lady Io to believe there were no obstacles to securing her brother's benevolence was no better than a lie, wasn't it?

Unwilling to fracture their fragile peace just yet, Corbin opted to avoid either continued obfuscation or harsh reality. Instead, he forged a middle path: one of evasion.

"You were surprised?" he said. "And why is that?"

They approached a narrower walkway that ran along the sleepy-looking river and Lady Io turned onto it.

"Yes, very surprised. I knew he would contribute to charities, of course, but I had not considered that he would be amenable to championing one which is so, er, untraditional," she said after a few moments of contemplation. She cut him an uncertain look, her forehead furrowed. "And even if he did agree, I would have thought that you would counsel him against extending support if he asked your opinion."

Her words, unfortunately, left Corbin no choice but to answer honestly. "Yes. It is likely that I would advises him against such involvement."

She stopped in the middle of the walking path and turned on him. "Why would you say such a thing?"

Corbin opened his mouth, and then paused, meeting her angry gaze.

"The least you can do is be honest with me, Masterson," she snapped, reading the source of his hesitation correctly.

"Very well. I would advise him to wait until you had given him several assurances."

"Such as?" she prodded when he did not go on.

Corbin sighed. She was going to force him to say it all. "I would advise him to require that you stop associating with people like the Taylors. That you quit personally distributing pamphlets and, er, paraphernalia. That you agree to a less prominent role in your organization—or at least a less conspicuous one. That you stop hurling yourself into dangerous situations—not just dangerous to your person, but to your reputation. That you—" he broke off at her outraged expression. "I can see that you take my meaning."

"Oh yes, I take your meaning. You would actually counsel my brother to withhold money from impoverished, vulnerable women."

When she put it like that…

"It would be within your power to make sure that money was not withheld, my lady."

"You mean by giving up everything that makes my life worth living," she said grimly.

Corbin met her furious, appalled gaze and gentled his tone, "Is it not possible that there are a plethora of other activities and pursuits that might yield an equal–or perhaps even greater—amount of pleasure and fulfillment with considerably fewer drawbacks?"

She crossed her arms. "Please enlighten me, sir. What sort of activities?"

"For a start, you might actually give tonish society a fair chance—as your sister is doing—rather than purposely sabotaging your reputation and relegating yourself to the fringes."

She stared at him without speaking for a long moment, and then quietly said, "You are a vile man."

Corbin recoiled at the loathing in her voice. "I am sorry you feel that way," he said stiffly.

"It is not a feeling. It is a statement of fact, sir. You hate that I am passionate about a cause because you despise anything that distracts a woman from her true purpose, which is motherhood and family. You will not be satisfied until I am some man's chattel."

In truth, Corbin's mind revolted at the thought of her belonging to some stranger.

That is because you want to possess her, yourself.

He blinked, uneasy at the accusation. "I am not saying you should abandon your causes," Corbin said, his protestations sounding lame to his own ears.

"Then what are you saying?"

"I am suggesting that you learn to compromise."

"Compromise?" She gave a bitter laugh. "Your notion of compromise is me collared, kept on a very short leash—a leash held by my husband's hand—my belly swelling with his child, and my mouth shut like an obedient little woman."

Her words evoked a shockingly potent and arousing image—one that Corbin could easily picture in his mind's eye. In his version, however, her body was lush and rounded with his child.

As for the part about having her collared, leashed, and obedient to his every whim?

Bloody. Hell. Corbin's cock almost ripped its way out of his trousers.

He was appalled by his primitive reaction.

"Have you nothing to say for yourself?" she demanded, thankfully unaware of Corbin's graphic and licentious fantasizing.

He cleared his throat and gathered up what remained of his wits before saying, "Life is nothing but a series of compromises, my lady. Only a child believes otherwise. If you truly are as passionate as you say about your cause, then you must give something in return."

"Give up something, you mean." Her eyes suddenly narrowed. "And did you just call me a child?"

"You certainly exhibit some child-like tendencies`."

"Such as?" she shot back.

"Do you really want an answer to that?"

"Yes, I really do."

Corbin sighed and held up a hand. "You are terrifyingly na?ve about the way the world functions." He ticked off one finger. "You capriciously follow your whims, heedless of the outcome." He ticked off another finger. "You are frequently willful to the point of folly." He ticked off a third finger. "You are—"

She spun around on her heel and stormed off the path and through the high grasses, heading in the general direction from which they had just come.

Corbin stared after her for a moment and then pulled out his watch. It was just as well she was striding off in a huff as it was getting near the time they should be making their way back to the train station.

He slipped his watch into his pocket and set off after her, easily closing the distance between them.

"Get away from me," she snarled when he fell into step beside her.

"I will escort you back to the train station."

"If you dare accompany me after I've told you not to, then I will scream."

His patience, already frayed, snapped. "You are a child, because this is how children behave when a discussion is not yielding the outcome they desire; they storm off in a huff. No doubt your behavior is due to where you were raised and—"

"Don't you even—"

Corbin raised his voice to be heard over hers. "You are a child who never received the proper discipline when you were young, so now you—

"Discipline?"

He winced at her increased volume. "Yes. Discipline. When I was a brat, my father would turn me over his knee and give me a spanking. I daresay if your father had done the same it would have worked wonders."

"You would be the sort of barbaric swine who believed in corporal punishment."

"If you insist on misbehaving, then—"

"Perhaps it is you who needs a firm hand, Mr. Masterson. Have you ever considered that? Perhaps I should turn you over my knee and spank your bottom!"

Corbin opened his mouth to invite her to try it, but she wasn't finished.

"I suppose you are going to run and tattle to my brother about my meeting with the Taylors when we get home." She threw the words at him, all but sprinting now.

He lengthened his stride. "Run and tattle?" He gave a harsh laugh and pointed to the path ahead of them. "Do you see that bench, my lady?"

Her brow furrowed. "What of it?"

"Why don't we stop a moment and see which one of us gets the other over their knee first, hmm?"

"I would like to see you try that!"

"And I would be delighted to oblige you," he retorted. "Then you could run and tattle to your brother and tell him that his barbaric servant finally did what should have been done twenty years ago."

"If you lay so much as a finger on me you will be the sorriest man in England."

"Why is it so easy for me to imagine being that man right now, I wonder?" he asked with heavy sarcasm.

A pair of older ladies came around a curve in the path, their round-eyed stares telling Corbin that one or both of their voices must have carried.

He tipped his hat at the women as they passed.

After that, they walked in silence, Lady Io Hale's too-desirable body rigid with anger.

Their brief truce from earlier was over and Corbin had been the one to destroy it. He told himself that was for the best.

Only if she hated him was Corbin safe from succumbing to the emotions that were already churning inside him. Emotions that were becoming harder and harder to suppress.

That all-too-brief oasis at the coffee shop had proven to him that enmity was the only acceptable state of affairs when it came to this woman.

Corbin only hoped it was enough to keep him from making a mistake that would be impossible to fix.