Chapter 20

One Week Later

Io was so excited that she could not concentrate on the article about Canoga that she was finishing up for Everard Gordon's magazine.

Instead of working, she was fussing with her satchel, to which she had just added a few toiletries, in anticipation of her first Wednesday liaison. Or rather, the first she and Masterson had agreed-upon, rather than last week's accidental meeting.

Io allowed herself a brief smirk at how clever she'd been to get Masterson into that hotel room last week.

Knowing that she could see him on Wednesday—could cross verbal swords with him and feed her sensual hunger—had made the week's vapid activities far less unbearable. Indeed, she had gracefully capitulated to Eva's entreaties to attend a truly tedious ball and spent an extra evening socializing outside of the four she had promised Zeus.

But her waiting was almost over.

At three o'clock today she would slip from the house to allegedly attend a suffragette meeting and then an evening lecture on botany directly afterward. Moira would accompany her, although her maid would really be spending time with her own swain at a supper club and music hall. The two of them would meet up later at an agreed upon place and return to Hastings House together.

It was a great deal of subterfuge to endure just to engage in sex. At Canoga, nobody needed to sneak and hide. Her relationship with Lamar had taken place openly and was publicly acknowledged by everyone.

The dissolution of your relationship was equally public if you will remember…

Io gritted her teeth against the memory. Of course I remember.

She jolted at the sound of somebody rapping on her door. "Yes," she called, shaking off her odd, contemplative mood.

The door opened and one of the maids, Jilly, popped her head in. "His Grace asks that you join him in his study, my lady."

"Thank you," Io said, smiling at the servant, and then losing the expression immediately once the door had closed.

What in the world did her brother want now? And why did any summons from him always lead to conflict?

Io glanced at the clock and then sighed when she saw it was only a little after one-thirty. There was still plenty of time before she needed to leave.

When she arrived at her brother's study one of his snotty footmen opened the door without grilling her for a change.

With a sense of foreboding, she entered the large room.

The first thing she saw was Zeus rising from behind his desk.

The second was the man she was going to meet later that day.

And then she saw Zeus's fiancée and stopped short a few feet into the room. "Am I getting called onto the carpet?"

Her brother's pained look answered her question.

Io pointed at Edith. "If she stays then I go."

Zeus inhaled deeply, his almost colorless eyes fixed on Io for several seconds before he said, "Please excuse us, Edith."

Io wasn't the only one who was stunned. Edith's expression of shock was priceless. "But, John—"

Edith's poisonous cake hole shut with a snap when Zeus turned to face her. She nodded, obviously stung. "Very well," she said, her bearing stiffly regal as she stood. "I will leave you to your discussion." And then she sailed from the room, head held high.

Io's malevolent gaze turned to Masterson.

"Do not glare at Corbin," the duke said. "He is not the one who reported what you are doing."

Irrationally, that disclosure only made her glare harder at her lover before wrenching her gaze away and facing her brother. "If this is about Mr. Gordon you should know we are not, and have never been, lovers. I am only writing an article for Mr. Gordon's magazine. I am not financing any of his endeavors."

"This is not about Everard Gordon."

Io flung up her hands. "Then what else have I done now? Failed to speak to the correct people at yesterday's wretched tea party at the Countess of Morland's house? Or did I not give the correct curtsey to the Dowager Duchess of Sale?"

"I know how you have been spending your allowance."

It was not what she'd been expecting. "And?"

"And this money is for you, Io."

She shrugged. "Yes, I know. I am spending it."

"Why are you doing this?" Zeus asked, wearily.

"Are you really saying you don't agree with me donating money?"

"Putting aside the nature of the charities you have chosen to sponsor"—he glanced down at something on his desk and said— "organizations such as the, er, the Bluestocking Brigade, Society of Sappho, and the Ladies National Association for the Repeal of the Contagious Diseases Acts, to name but a few"—he looked up, "your allowance was intended for you to spend on yourself—for personal items and such."

"These expenditures are personal."

He sighed. "Do you want me to curtail your allowance?"

"Do what you feel you must," she retorted.

His nostrils pinched and his jaw tightened in a way that told her he was reining in his temper. That was unusual. Just like his best friend Masterson, Zeus normally exhibited as much emotion as a block of wood. Io wondered what was making him so tense of late.

Perhaps you are, a wry voice suggested.

Zeus massaged his temple with one hand. "If I offered to donate the same amount of money to similar charities on your behalf, would you spend your allowance on yourself from now on?"

"What could I possibly need? What could any of us need?" She gestured around at his study, which would not look out of place in Versailles. "Thanks to Edith's nagging, my dressing room is stuffed to overflowing and I have enough clothing for at least a hundred people."

"You don't need to buy gowns. What about books? Jaunts to the theater or a museum? Is there nothing that gives you pleasure?"

Io could not keep her eyes from sliding to Masterson. "There are a few things," she admitted. "But the sort of things that give me pleasure" she emphasized the word, amused by the hot color that infused her lover's face— "do not require money, Zeus."

Her older brother had long ago stopped flinching at his given name. When Io had learned he'd repudiated his real name and gone by John all his life, she had been determined to make him accept who he was: another son of Bates Hale, Jr., the same man who'd spawned the rest of them, but had only raised five of his children, discarding his eldest.

Her siblings thought Io's insistence on using Zeus's real name was merely to annoy the dignified man who sat before her—every inch a duke, in Io's opinion—but the truth was that only if a person owned a ridiculous name like Zeus or Io, did they truly understand what it meant to be one of the Hale siblings of Canoga.

"I am displeased that you will not spend such a trifling amount on yourself," Zeus said, pulling Io from her thoughts. "And I am also concerned that some of the organizations you've chosen—such as the Bluestocking Brigade—have funded violent clashes with authorities—"

"I never intended my donation to be used in such a way," Io interrupted. "I have told the women in charge that I will not be giving them more money." Indeed, Io had been furious when the Bluestocking Brigade had essentially funded a collection of brutes to go on a looting, burning, smashing rampage.

Zeus regarded her steadily before continuing. "Despite my reservations, I cannot feel right punishing you for giving your money to charity. It is your money; do as you like with it." His expression hardened. "Just be prepared to accept the consequences if any of that money should find its way into the wrong hands."

Io's conscience twinged at his generosity. Not only was he generous with her allowance, which was not trifling in the least, but he was generous in his treatment of her. Io was no fool. She might be over the age of twenty-one and legally an adult, but she knew the courts in England would not hesitate to throw their weight behind a man like Zeus if he ever took it into his head to truly curb her independence. And there was no judge in this country or New York who would find Io's behavior acceptable.

Axbridge, a man she'd begun to like despite his high-handed, haughty nature, had not scrupled to warn Io of the fine line she skated.

"No other aristocratic man would allow his female dependent as much liberty as Hastings does you," he'd said a few nights earlier when they'd been passing the time arguing at yet another tedious ball. He'd given her his dismissive, ducal sneer. "I certainly wouldn't tolerate your behavior for a moment and most of my peers would have you locked up by now; an action which is well within your brother's power as the head of your family."

Axbridge's warning tempered her behavior now, and Io nodded at Zeus. "Thank you… Brother. I will endeavor to select the charities I support with more care."

It was the first time she had called Zeus brother without sarcasm or mockery, and the faint pink stain that spread over his sharp cheekbones told her that he was not unaffected by the term of affection.

Io gave Corbin a dismissive look as she strode from the room. He might not have tattled on her, but she had seen the judgment in his gaze. He had not defended her, either. She briefly considered marching to Edith's chambers to crow about her victory, but decided it was not worth the strife it would cause. It was obvious that Zeus and Edith were having problems. Hopefully, their betrothal would crumble on its own.

Io opened the door to her chambers and stopped when she saw her little sister sitting at her dressing table, frowning.

Eva leapt up. "Ah, you are back sooner than I hoped." She pulled a face. "I knew why you'd been summoned. Edith mentioned it earlier."

"I see. So, why were you frowning at my dressing table?" she asked, taking her sister's hand and pulling her down beside her on the settee nearest the fire.

"There is nothing on it—no scent, lotions, jewelry, or…anything."

Io laughed. "Moira is very tidy."

"I suspect it is more a case of you not having anything for her to keep tidy."

That was the truth but Io did not admit it. "To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

"Oh, Yoyo, I wish I were good like you," Eva said, laying her head on Io's shoulder.

"Good?" Io laughed, gazing fondly at her little sister. "Hardly that."

"I just mean that you dress in moderation, you do not want jewels, you do not care if you wear the same gown to every ball, whereas I…"

Io squeezed her adorable little sister tightly and kissed the top of her head. "Don't ever wish away who you are, Eva. You are pure joy in human form. There is no shame in enjoying pretty things, dearest. As for me being good, what you fail to understand is that it is not a sacrifice for me to forgo jewels and clothing because I do not want them. In fact, I find it a burden to think about clothing. That is one of the things I miss from Canoga: a simple wardrobe that took none of my mental power."

"But you are so beautiful. You could wear gowns that made you the toast of London and have every eligible bachelor in the ton at your feet."

Io shivered, and it was only partly in jest. "That sounds like a nightmare to me."

And there is only one man I want at my feet.

"You miss Bal, don't you?" Eva asked.

"Yes, I do." They had been separated before, of course, when Bal went off to Princeton. But he had come home often, missing her company as much as she'd pined for his.

Now, he was blissfully happy with Victoria, his wife, and her son. And Io really was happy for him. He wrote to her often, his letters full to bursting with things to share.

Io wrote back to him every week, her letters scant and empty, because of everything she had to conceal.

"I miss him, but I am delighted that he is happy," she said.

"It must be nice to have a twin," Eva said wistfully, not for the first time.

Io felt sorry for her sister in that regard. The closeness that existed between her and Bal and Ares and Apollo was indeed a special sort of intimacy.

"Fortunately for you, my dear, you are all our favorite sibling," Io said. And that was not a lie.

Eva laughed. "You are so kind." She paused and then said, "I notice you are very friendly with Axbridge."

"Mmm," Io said, her mind on three o'clock. While it would be tempting to give Masterson a piece of her mind about the meeting with Zeus, she did not want to waste precious moments arguing. After all, they could do that any time. Although they had scarcely exchanged a word—hostile or otherwise—since last Wednesday.

"—is it that you find to talk about all the time? I think he is a dreadfully haughty and unfriendly man."

"What's that, love?" Io asked.

"Axbridge," Eva said with some asperity. "I was asking why you are friends with him?"

"Friends?" Io mused and then laughed. "I would call us acquaintances who like to argue."

"But why?" Eva persisted, not diverted.

Io shrugged. "The same reason I am friends with anyone—becauseI enjoy his company."

Eva pulled a face. "You do? But why? He is so stern and disapproving and—and—I don't know. Unpleasant."

"Is he?" Io asked, laughing at her sister's uncharacteristically sour expression. "I confess that I hadn't noticed. I like him because he never pays me flowery annoying compliments and always says what he is thinking."

"He certainly does," Eva muttered darkly.

The clock on the mantle struck the quarter hour and Io sat up. "Oh, look at the time," she said in a voice that sounded false and overly excited to her own ears.

"Are you leaving?" Eva asked. "I thought we might go to the Park later today."

There was only one park worthy of the name in her sister's opinion: Hyde Park, which was Io's idea of hell at any time, but especially when all the ton was on the strut.

"I can't today, darling. But I will go with you tomorrow. I promise."

Io tried to ignore the excitement pounding in her chest and failed.

"Where are you going?" Eva asked.

"A suffragette meeting and then a talk. Just my usual little causes," she said, adopting Edith's tone on the last two words.

"Oh. Perhaps I might come with you sometime?"

Fear struck Io's heart, causing it to stutter.

"Although I cannot today," Eva added, sighing as she pushed up off the settee. "I am going to get measured for my court gown."

"Oh, good! I mean—er, aren't you glad about that?" Io scrambled at her sister's odd look.

"I would be if not for—" Eva stopped abruptly and smiled. "I am enjoying it greatly."

Io knew she should delve into this subject, but not today.

Today she could only think of one person.

***

Corbin paced the luxurious hotel room, castigating himself, which is what he'd been doing since last Wednesday.

He should not have come. He was a terrible friend to Hastings, not to mention a traitor to his own principles.

And yet wild horses could not have kept him away.

Corbin stopped his frenetic pacing, slumped against the wall, and then lightly—so lightly—coasted a palm over the fabric tented by his dick, which had been hard for days, no matter how many times he'd fisted himself dry.

He glanced at the clock: there was still twenty minutes until they were meant to meet. Like the eager, horny fool that he was, he'd arrived at the hotel a full hour early. He knew she was angry with him and had hoped she might arrive early, as well, so that they might get the arguing out of the way first.

But here he was all alone, mooning like a schoolboy with a hard prick.

It would be wise to take the edge off, wouldn't it? Corbin was tired of embarrassing himself in front of the woman. If she did show—which was not at all guaranteed after the look of loathing she'd given him in Hastings's study—the last thing he wanted to do was go off like a Roman candle.

He glanced at the clock. It was fifteen seconds later than the last time he looked.

There was plenty of time.

Corbin closed his eyes, deftly working the buttons of his fly with only one hand. He groaned when his hot shaft hit his cool palm, squeezing himself until he'd pumped out enough slick to ease his stroking.

His hand felt nothing like Io's. It was the difference between gold and dross.

You aren't doing this to fall in love with your fist, fool, you are doing this so you don't humiliate yourself. Again.

Fair enough.

Corbin stroked and imagined her body laid out before him like a feast, his tongue laving and caressing, her taut thighs flexing, soft breaths quickening—

Something—a faint sound or disturbance in the air—made him open his eyes.

Io was leaning against a wall, arms crossed, smiling at him. "Please. Do not stop on my account. I am entranced."