Chapter 16

London

Hastings House

Several Weeks Later

Io's eyelids felt as if they were made of lead when she lifted them that day—her seventeenth in London.

She winced at the sunlight that was shining between a gap in the drapes and knew before she even glanced at the clock that it would be late.

Even so, her heart sank when she saw it was half past one o'clock. In the afternoon.

At this time of year, the sun went down before five o'clock. And Io had spent most of the day abed.

On the heels of her shame came a sharp pang of sorrow. As it did every day, it took Io a moment before she could identify the cause: Balthazar had not accompanied the rest of them to London.

Her twin had married a month ago at Hastings Park. Immediately afterward, he had moved with his new wife and stepson to a house of their own. Never again would Io, Bal, and their other siblings all live together as a family.

Io sighed softly. Although nobody could have been more pleased than Io when her brother fell in love and married Mrs. Dryden, she missed Bal horribly.

She did not begrudge her twin his new life, but she felt as if a part of her was missing.

Of course, she was still furious at Bal for keeping the truth of their grandfather's will from her and their other siblings. She could not believe that Bal had needed to marry an acceptable woman before he could inherit. He could very well have ended up with a woman like Edith if Zeus had rigidly adhered to their deceased grandfather's idea of what constituted acceptable.

Fortunately, Zeus—the executor of the will—had given his enthusiastic stamp of approval to Victoria Dryden, even though she was a servant. Io suspected that Horace Sinclair would not have been pleased.

According to the last letter she had received from her twin, Bal was still furious with Io and their younger siblings for refusing to accept a share of the four million dollars he had inherited.

He had not been willing to take no for an answer and had divided the money five ways and created trusts for each of them. Whether she wanted it or not, Io was almost a millionaire.

"All is well that ends well," she muttered, her voice dry and croaky from all the pointless chatter she had engaged in the night before.

And the night before that.

And the night before that.

"This torment ends today," she said. And then ruined her firm declaration with a jaw-cracking yawn.

Rather than ring for Moira, whom she knew would not intrude until Io summoned her, she washed with cold water and dressed herself. Her hair was still short enough from its last sheering to require nothing more than a vigorous brushing.

When she was finished, she examined herself in the mirror. For the first time in three weeks, Io recognized the woman who looked back at her. Instead of the rich velvets and silks she'd worn since arriving in London she was garbed in a navy gabardine that was cut in the clean, severe style she favored.

Garbed in her armor of choice, she left her chambers and went searching for Zeus, locating him easily as two footmen always stood sentry outside any chamber the duke occupied.

"Is he alone?" she asked the footman, Nathan, she thought he was called, a haughty London-born man whom she did not like nearly as much as the servants they'd brought with them from the country.

"His Grace has asked not to be disturbed," Nathan said in a lofty tone.

"He won't mind seeing his sister." Io reached for the door handle but the footman's white-gloved hand got there first. She looked up at him and for a moment there was a silent battle of wills.

Io wondered what she would do if the footman refused her entry.

As it turned out, that didn't become an issue because Nathan opened the door and announced, "Lady Io to see you, Your Grace."

Io pushed past the stuffy servant. Zeus was not sitting at his desk, but standing in front of the fire and seemed to be staring at it before he turned to Io, his expression…odd.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

His vague gaze sharpened and he nodded at the footman, whom Io only then realized had not shut the door, waiting for his master's approval before leaving him alone with his own sibling.

Io reined in her irritation as the door shut almost soundlessly, reminding herself that she had not invaded Zeus's sanctum to argue and fight about the obsequious habits of servants, but to request a favor of sorts.

Zeus gestured to a chair nearest the fire. "Nothing is wrong," he said, seating himself across from her once she'd settled.

Only when they were sitting face-to-face did Io notice that her brother had dark smudges beneath his arresting sapphire eyes.

"You look tired," she said with her usual candor—or what Bal would term her usual lack of tact.

"You look fresh and rested," he countered.

She snorted. "That's because I only left my bed"—she glanced at the clock on the mantle, a gold monstrosity that evidently had once belonged to the Duke of Wellington—"three-quarters-of-an-hour ago. I daresay you were up early even though we all came home together last night." She cocked her head. "Does one still refer to it as last night when it was after four in the morning?"

Zeus gave her a look that wasn't quite a smile but toed the boundary line. "Did you enjoy yourself at the Winchester ball?" he asked, obviously not interested in discussing semantics.

"You didn't go to bed at all, did you?" she asked, taking a leaf from his book and ignoring his question.

"Did you come here to inquire into my sleeping habits, Sister?"

She snorted. "Lack of them, I should say. But no. That is not why I am here."

He suddenly stood. "I believe I will have some fortification before I hear this," he said, crossing the room to a walnut drinks table that had a cunning cover in the shape of a globe.

Io was more than a little surprised that he would indulge in spirits so early in the day. While not abstemious, Zeus normally drank very little.

"May I get you something?" he asked, pouring what looked to be whiskey.

"I'll have what you are having."

He turned to her and lifted an eyebrow. "It is whisky."

"Yes, I know."

He stared a moment longer, then sighed and poured a second glass.

Io couldn't help noticing that the tumbler he handed her held half the liquid of his own.

Her temper spiked at his obviously patronizing gesture, and Io forced herself to take a deep breath and just sip from the glass, rather than tossing the entire amount back just to antagonize him.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"I cannot continue on the way I have these past weeks, Zeus."

He stared, expressionless. After a moment, he said, "What are you saying? Do you wish to go back to New York?"

Io couldn't help noticing that he no longer called it home.

"Are those my only options, Zeus? To frantically drink and eat and dance and gossip until four o'clock every morning of the week or go home?"

"What do you have in mind?" he asked, eyeing her levelly.

"Fewer engagements, for one thing. For another, I'd like to have the right to choose some of my own evening entertainments."

"Suffragette marches down Bond Street? Condom distribution in Trafalgar Square?" he suggested with very un-Zeuslike sarcasm.

Her hand tightened on the glass.

"I'm sorry," he said before she could decide which of the five retorts—all of them uncivil—she would deal him. "That was unnecessary."

"I was thinking more of intellectual gatherings," she said with admirable coolness. "Although I only write children's books, I would still like to spend some of my time meeting other authors. Also painters, philosophers. In short, anyone who does something other than spend all their time attending parties, routs, and balls."

"And how many nights a week do you need for that?"

"Seven would be nice."

Faint amusement glimmered in his eyes. "How about two?"

"I could get by with three."

He swirled the liquid in his glass before lifting the drink and downing it in one gulp. When he met her gaze, his face was once again impassive. "You will accompany your sister or Edith—or both—four nights a week to various ton functions. The other three nights you may attend literary and artistic events, provided none of them lead to arrest and incarceration."

Io bristled at his commanding tone, but quickly stuffed down her annoyance. Instead, she smiled and opened her mouth to say thank you.

But then Zeus had to go and ruin the goodwill she was feeling.

"I will want to know where you are going in advance and you will take one of our brothers or a suitable chaperone with you to all acceptable functions," he said. "And you will allow Edith to help you decide to which functions you willaccompany her and Eva as she will know which are of more importance." His eyes, which usually resembled pale blue gems, were suddenly paler, their hue more closely resembling the highly polished steel of the regimental sword that hung beside the fireplace. Io knew the weapon belonged to Zeus from his time with the 5th Cavalry Regiment. It was one of the few personal items her brother had added to the décor in the massive London house.

Her nostrils flared as she tried to suck in enough air for all the retorts that exploded inside her. Zeus rarely exerted himself to establish authority over Io and her siblings, but when he did, he could be as hard and inflexible as the razor-sharp blade.

"This is non-negotiable," he said before she could get even one word out of her mouth.

Io set her glass down on the marble-topped end table with a loud crack.

"So be it," she said.

He stared at her for a long moment, as if searching for some subterfuge behind her acquiescence. But then he nodded, set his glass down a good deal more quietly, and said with no trace of irony, "I am glad we could come to an agreement."

***

That same evening…

Corbin sensed conflict beneath the politely brittle conversation taking place around him at the dinner table, and he knew it was coming from at least two sources—Lady Io and Miss Barrymore—but, oddly, he also felt it emanating from his friend and employer.

It was a rare dinner at home with all the family—except Lord Balthazar, of course, who had not come to London—in attendance. He was surprised to see Lords Apollo and Ares, who had scarcely spent a night at Hastings House since the family's arrival in London three weeks before.

The twins, along with Zeus, had been speedily welcomed into Brooks's gentlemen's club and, like every other aristocratic young buck in London, Ares and Apollo spent a great deal of time there.

Corbin knew the duke had been relieved to discover that neither of his younger brothers cared for gambling or any of the blood sports that seemed to attract so many young males.

During the day they both seemed to have their own pursuits, Lord Ares had struck up a friendship with Nigel Carey, one of the foremost furniture makers in Britain, and Lord Apollo haunted Tattersalls and a half-dozen other auction houses and stud farms with an almost feverish intensity.

But as much as they lived their own lives, they still showed their faces at numerous ton engagements to please their oldest brother.

Lady Io, Corbin had been stunned to see, had attended each and every social event with Lady Eva. Miss Barrymore usually accompanied them, unless she deemed a function too festive for half-mourning, in which case she sent Miss Barclay in her stead.

Corbin knew little of women's clothing or fashion, but even he could see that Miss Barclay wore the same gray silk gown to almost every affair. Why Miss Barrymore treated her cousin with such wanton neglect, Corbin did not know.

But then he no longer regarded Miss Barrymore as highly as he had done in years past.

Just like the duke, Corbin had been shocked and deeply unsettled by the way Miss Barrymore had meddled in Lord Balthazar's secret romance with Mrs. Dryden.

Although Corbin did not know the full extent of her interference, he knew enough to realize that she had been responsible for the brief schism between the couple, who were very obviously in love.

Hastings would never admit it, but Corbin suspected the duke was experiencing crippling doubts about marrying a woman who appeared to not only dislike his siblings but was willing to go out of her way to do them harm.

Corbin knew there had been some sort of promise between Hastings and Kelvin Barrymore—Miss Barrymore's deceased older brother—and he believed that promise was the reason that his friend had become engaged to Miss Barrymore. He had known John Hale a long, long time and suspected the other man had very little affection, or even regard, for his fiancée after her awful behavior these past months.

The duke had a difficult choice ahead of him and Corbin did not envy him one bit. He only hoped the man chose what was best for him—the man—rather than the duke, friend, brother, or well-respected member of society.

In any event, Lord Balthazar had gone off to his new estate with his new wife and new stepson, leaving his wild twin to her own devices.

Since reaching London Lady Io had been suspiciously compliant. Of course she had also proceeded to gain a name for herself among the ton as an Original. She wasn't the only woman who wore artistic dress—the Pre-Raphaelites had, after all, brought the medieval-like style into fashion some years back—but she was easily the most outspoken person, male or female, at almost every gathering.

Regardless of Lady Io's compliance, His Grace's London home was filled with increasing rancor between Io and Miss Barrymore.

For the most part, Corbin had managed to keep out of the middle of their battles.

Indeed, since the night of Lady Eva's birthday ball, when Corbin had behaved like a despicable lust-mad ravisher—he'd avoided being alone in the same room with Io.

But he had watched her plenty.

Just like he was doing right now, as she was chattering away with Axbridge, who, to Corbin's displeasure, spent almost as much time at Hastings House as he did at his own house, which was—unfortunately—just across the square from them.

Not only had Axbridge and Hastings become fast friends, but the insufferable peer seemed to seek out the company of Lady Io and the two could often be seen sitting off to the side together at any number of functions, bickering. Or at least Io bickered while Axbridge just smirked haughtily.

The only positive thing Corbin could see in their odd association was that it appeared to be platonic. Indeed, if he were to hazard a guess, he would have said that Lady Io latched on to Axbridge to placate her older brother and make him believe that she was, finally, falling into line.

If Hastings believed that his sister was interested in any sort of relationship with Axbridge then his old friend was barking up the wrong tree.

Lady Io already had a new lover and Corbin knew that because he'd followed her to their trysting place at the Boynton Hotel.

Corbin saw that he was holding his fork hard enough to cut ridges into his palm and loosened his grip.

It had been bad enough to control her headlong behavior in the country, but at least there she'd had the somewhat mellowing influence of her twin.

Corbin had quickly discovered that Lord Balthazar was not the villain the press had painted him. Indeed, the young lord was, in reality, a thoughtful and steadfast man.

Lady Io, on the other hand, seemed bent on destroying her reputation—and that of her family—with alarming celerity.

Corbin had been tempted to tell Hastings of his sister's liaisons with Everard Gordon, the younger son of an earl who had pretensions to being a painter but was merely a lazy dabbler—not just in art, but also in various social issues.

Gordon and Lady Io had met four times—that Corbin knew of—at Boynton's, an expensive, exclusive hotel that was worryingly near Mayfair. Neither of them had bothered to do a thing to hide their assignations.

He suspected Miss Barrymore was aware of the meetings, although—after her cruelty toward Lord Balthazar and Mrs. Dryden—he was no longer in her confidence as he had politely but firmly made it clear to her that he was not an ally in her cause, which appeared to be discrediting all the Hales except Hastings. Indeed, it shamed Corbin to recall that he had ever agreed with the woman.

But his loyalty to Hastings was unshakable. As little as he wanted to justify Lady Io's accusations of tattling, Corbin feared he might just have to do exactly that if her relationship with Gordon was not brought to a halt.

Her hatred for him now would be nothing to how she would feel about him if he did such a thing.

Why did the thought of an irreparable breach between himself and Lady Io not make Corbin feel relief, but deep, grinding remorse?