Chapter 27

This Wednesday

Io was avoiding him.

Although they rarely spoke during the days between their trysts, this past week had been even more barren. She had not teased or taunted Corbin at dinner when the opportunity had presented itself and they had not exchanged so much as one stolen glance since the week before.

Normally, he would have something to look forward to today—it was a Wednesday, after all—something to make life worthwhile.

But Corbin could not forget how he and Io had left things last Wednesday. The memory of their parting had eaten at him over the intervening days. And because he was a pathetic, besotted fool, he decided to go down to breakfast later than he usually ate that morning, timing his meal so that he might steal a few glances at Io and try to gauge whether he would show up to an empty room that afternoon.

If he was not such a coward, he would just bloody ask the woman.

But he was a coward.

And he was terrified of the answer he might receive.

Unfortunately, he and Io were not the only ones in the breakfast room. Indeed, all the Hales—even the duke—had gathered for the morning meal, an unusual occurrence.

"We are going to The Tower," Eva announced with a smile the moment Corbin sat down with a plate of food that he had no interest in eating.

"I thought you went to The Tower just after we arrived in London," he said, stirring a spoonful of sugar into his coffee.

"Eva loves the ravens," Ares said. "She would roost with them if they'd let her."

"I would," Eva agreed, unperturbed by her sibling's gentle ribbing. She cast a sly look at her older sister. "But I'm not as bad as Yoyo."

Corbin looked from Eva to Io—everyone else was, so why shouldn't he?

Io gave her younger sister a pained look. "Please, not this story. Again."

"Yoyo insisted that she was a hen when she was little," Apollo explained, smirking from Corbin to his older sister.

"You were not even born yet, so it's not as if you remember," Io shot back.

"One night she was missing at bedtime and everyone was frantic," Apollo continued. "There was much rending of hair and tearing of clothing—"

"Not to mention a great deal of despair and wailing that she was lost," Ares said, picking up the story.

"Search parties were deployed," Apollo intoned in a deep melodramatic voice that made his twin hoot. "But no trace of her could be found…"

Io muttered something that sounded vaguely threatening, but her siblings were enjoying themselves too much.

Eva smirked at Corbin. "After hours of anguish and agony, she was discovered inside the chicken coop, asleep, sharing one of the nesting boxes with a hen."

"I was not sharing a nesting box with a hen. They are far too small, and you know that, Eva," Io said icily. She looked at Corbin, her expression as regal as a queen's. "It was my own nesting box."

"It's true," Ares said. "Even though she was barely five years old she'd built a nesting box with her very own hands." He gave his sister the respectful look of one woodworker to another.

"That's not the best part," Apollo said, nudging his twin in the ribs.

Ares grinned. "My father slipped an egg in beside her before they woke her up."

"She thought she'd laid it and insisted on brooding it for an entire week," Eva added gleefully.

"It was not a week," Io said, addressing her words to Corbin. "It wasn't even a day because I fell asleep while brooding and a rotten boy named Davy Rollins stole the egg and took great pleasure in frying it and proving to me and all the other children that it was merely a regular hen egg."

The others chuckled at what was obviously a family favorite story. Zeus, he couldn't help noticing, was smirking along with the rest of them, looking happier than Corbin had seen him look in weeks—months, even.

"I can't think why my siblings enjoy that story so much," Io said. "There are far more entertaining Hale tales." An evil smile stole across her face. "Like the time Ares and Pol found bullfrogs and—"

"Mooooo."

"Moooooo."

The duke—who obviously knew the story behind the mooing—laughed when the twins' raucous noise drowned out whatever tale Io was threatening to tell.

The door opened just then and Miss Barrymore entered a room filled with moos and laughter.

Corbin swore the temperature in the room dropped.

He and the other three men stood and good mornings were murmured all around.

Lady Eva hurried to fill the awkward silence by badgering her brothers to accompany her ice skating later that day.

Miss Barrymore almost always had breakfast delivered to her chambers, so Corbin's antennae were twitching. He wondered if she was going to The Tower with the rest of the family, but somehow doubted it.

When she turned away from the buffet, he saw she had only one dry piece of toast on her plate.

"—but then Mick said the best skating is somewhere called Millpond and he would know as he was born and raised here," Eva said. "Will you ask him where it is, Pol?"

Apollo gave his younger sibling a wary look. "If Mick suggested it, I'm not sure it will be—"

"Mick?" Miss Barrymore interrupted, looking up from her meager meal. "Is that the boy who runs behind your carriage?" she asked, turning her cold gaze toward Apollo.

Corbin had noticed the woman never said any of their names if she could help herself. And when she did address them, her expression was invariably pained or unpleasant.

Silence greeted her question.

"Yes, Mick is his name," Apollo finally said.

Corbin knew damned well that she was aware of who Mick was. Hell, most of London read of the flamboyant young tiger's exploits. To the amusement of Apollo's family and the many avid Hale-watchers both aristocratic and common, Mick had dogged the young lord relentlessly for the position of tiger, an antiquated role that Apollo most certainly had not been looking to fill. Anyone even slightly acquainted with Apollo knew that he'd hired the lad out of kindness, not to garner attention.

"Your behavior has become the topic of some rather unsavory speculation," Miss Barrymore said after a moment had passed.

Apollo finished chewing, took a drink of coffee, and wiped his mouth with his napkin before saying, "Is that so?"

Corbin's eyes slid to the duke, but Hastings seemed to be fascinated by the beefsteak on his plate.

Io, who had a forkful of egg lifted halfway to her mouth set it back down without taking a bite, her gaze sharp.

Even Lady Eva, normally the one to deflect any argument, had a notch of concern between her violet eyes.

Corbin's own gaze settled on Lord Ares and stayed there. The youngest of the brothers seethed as he stared at Miss Barrymore, who appeared unaware of the danger.

Corbin opened his mouth to say anything to stop the pot from boiling over but he wasn't fast enough.

"Indeed," Miss Barrymore continued in a cool, unpleasant tone. "The way you have been jaunting about with this… boy dressed like a doll and the—"

A fork clattered loudly and Miss Barrymore's eyebrows shot up as she turned to Ares, the source of the noise.

"Enough." The word was like the low rumble of a jungle cat and utterly unlike anything Corbin had ever before heard from the sunny natured Ares.

"I beg your pardon?" Miss Barrymore glared at Ares as if he had thrown his fork at her head—still a distinct possibility, in Corbin's opinion— rather than drop it on his plate.

"You heard exactly what I said," Ares shot back in a tone of unbridled loathing.

The duke finally looked up, and the exhaustion on his face stunned Corbin, especially when compared to his expression of only moments before when he had been laughing with his family.

Miss Barrymore swelled, like a hen fluffing her feathers. "Do not speak to me in that—"

"Your incessant insinuations, your nagging, your relentless belittling of my siblings stops now," Ares said, raising his voice to a low roar to be heard over Miss Barrymore's angry tone.

Miss Barrymore gasped and turned to the duke, "Hastings, I demand—"

"I will speak to you after breakfast." The duke's voice was all the more commanding for how quiet it was compared to his brother's or fiancé's.

Miss Barrymore smiled smugly and turned to Ares. "I will allow His Grace to settle the matter. I'm sure you will—"

"I did not mean Ares," the duke said, fixing his fiancée with eyes that were the pure, cold blue of arctic ice.

Corbin could not tell who was more shocked: Ares or Miss Barrymore.

When he risked a glance at Io, who had not joined in the argument for once, her eyes glittered with triumph as they slid from brother to brother, and something that looked like relief colored her face when her gaze settled on Apollo.

Miss Barrymore shot to her feet. "I will have that meeting now, Hastings," she said, her voice shaking with fury. And then she pivoted on her heel and sailed toward the door. One of the servants—three of whom were still in the room—sprinted to open it for her.

Once Miss Barrymore was gone, the duke turned to Lady Eva and said, "I'm afraid I won't be able to accompany you to The Tower." He stood and said to Corbin, "I am sorry to cut your breakfast short. But would you mind joining me in my study in ten minutes?"

"Of course," Corbin murmured.

The door shut behind the duke and—for once—none of the Hales said a word.

***

Six hours later…

The day had been one of the most awkward and miserable of Corbin's life—even including the years he'd spent fighting in the war.

As bad as the past hours had been for him, they'd been ten-fold worse for his employer, although Hastings remained as distant as the moon even through the worst of it.

Miss Barrymore made sure that the end of their betrothal was as painful as possible—not to mention awkward and expensive—for her fiancé.

Corbin was bloody exhausted just from observing.

At the same time, he felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his chest.

The flash of rage in Ares's eyes as he'd stared at Miss Barrymore that morning had been extremely worrying. How had Corbin been so blind to the dislike—nay, hatred—swirling around him all these months?

Yet again Io's words came back to him clearly, "You only see what you want to see, Corbin."

It was true, he'd had his head in the sand for months—years, even.

His best friend had taken steps to set his life to rights today. Now it was Corbin's turn.

The question of how to approach Io about sharing their life—not just one day a week—consumed his thoughts as the hansom cab rolled toward the Boynton Hotel. And behind all those thoughts, pulsing like a raw wound, was his fear that she would not be there today.

That she was finished with him.

That—

"Oye! We're ‘ere, guv," the driver said, shaking Corbin from his reverie.

He absently paid the cabbie and crossed the street toward the hotel, excitement speeding his steps as a painfully simple solution to their problem began to take root in his mind.

Of course! What a fool he had been, considering marriage the only viable choice because it was what he wanted and—

Corbin staggered to the side as a large black coach screeched to a stop, all but running him over. Two men in dark suits leapt out and lunged toward him while somebody behind him—two or three somebodies—grabbed his arms.

He jerked and twisted but the men holding him were strong. "What the bloody—"

"You are coming with us, Mr. Masterson," one of the men from the coach said.

"The hell I will!" he shouted and slammed his head back, catching somebody's nose with a dull crunch. A muffled scream was followed by two hands dropping away.

With one arm free Corbin managed to turn on his other captor and drew back his fist for what would have been a leveler.

But then his head exploded like the Fourth of July, pain and blinding white light driving him to his knees.

"I love you, Io." The words were gravelly and slurred and Corbin wasn't sure who'd spoken them.

The world, which had been so painfully bright only a moment earlier, faded to a murky gray.

"What did he say?" somebody asked.

"It doesn't matter! Get him into the coach," a distant voice ordered. "Quickly now!"

Those were the last words Corbin heard before the darkness pulled him under.

***

It had been an agony to go to The Tower and pretend that all was normal. But, surprisingly, it had been Apollo who'd insisted they carry on with their plans.

"Zeus deserves to have the house to himself while he deals with Edith," he'd insisted.

Personally, Io had wanted to purchase box seats and settle in with opera glasses to watch, but her brother had a point. Besides, if allowing Zeus time meant that he would give Edith the boot, then Io could spend all day staring at ravens and jewels.

And so the four of them had gone on their jaunt.

The moment they returned home, Io had sped up to Zeus's office.

Nathan and Albert stood outside the duke's study door like a pair of handsome gargoyles dressed in livery.

"His Grace has asked not to be disturbed, Lady Io," Nathan said in his prim voice.

Io opened her mouth to argue but just then the door at the end of the corridor that concealed the servant stairway opened and Charles, her favorite footman came bounding out, a piece of paper in his gloved hand.

She hurried toward him. "Is Miss Barrymore still in the study with my brother?"

He glanced at the other two footmen, who were frowning at them, and then leaned close enough to whisper. "No, my lady, she is packing her things as we speak." He paused and then added in a dramatic voice. "Miss Barrymore is going back to America."

Io's heart almost exploded with joy. "Are you sure?"

"Aye, my lady. She is going to stay at the Clarendon for now but will take one of His Grace's own ships back."

"When does she leave?"

"In only two or three days, we were told."

Io's mind raced.

"Miss Barclay isn't going with her," Charles added with a scarcely suppressed grin.

"She isn't? What is she going to do?"

"She will stay on as Lady Eva's companion."

"She will?"How in the world had Eva worked so quickly when they'd just returned from their jaunt to The Tower?

"Mr. Masterson is going back with Miss Barrymore."

"What?"

The huge footman jumped at her shriek. "Aye. His Grace's man—Mr. Crombie—says Mr. Masterson is cutting his year short to escort Miss Barrymore home."

"His year?" Io repeated. "What year? I don't understand."

"Mr. Crombie says as how Mr. Masterson was only supposed to stay a year with His Grace before returning to America, but now that has changed."

Corbin had only agreed to come for a year?

"I don't understand. Why only a year? And what is he going back for?"

Charles shrugged. "I don't know, my lady."

Io refused to believe it. Surely Corbin would have told her if he was only here for a year?

She knew she shouldn't be gossiping with a servant—especially not in the middle of the corridor—but she had to ask, "Are you saying that Mr. Masterson is leaving His Grace's employ permanently?"

The footman opened his mouth, but then closed it, his brow furrowing. After a moment, he shrugged. "Mr. Crombie didn't say that Mr. Masterson was not coming back, now that I think about it. But he did say that His Grace wanted Miss Barrymore to have an escort."

"Is Mr. Masterson in his rooms?"

"Nay, my lady, he's gone out on his half day, just like he always does on Wednesday."

Io's heart leapt at the news. Corbin wasn't finished with her—at least not yet—and had gone early to the hotel to meet her!

"Thank you, Charles." She kissed the startled footman on the cheek and all but ran to her chambers to fetch her cloak and hat.

Io flung open the door to her room, rushed inside, and gave a yelp of surprise when she almost collided with Edith.

"My, my. Don't you look pleased with yourself," Edith hissed like the snake she was, her eyes glittering with malice.

"What are you doing in my room?"

"I came here so you could gloat, my lady. I am leaving. Doesn't that make you happy?"

Io didn't bother to hide her grin as she held up her hand, her forefinger and thumb separated by a half-inch of air. "Just a little bit."

The other woman snorted. "You are pathetic."

"Says the woman whose fiancé just sent her packing."

"At least I had a fiancé. While you are just a cow giving away free milk every Wednesday."

Io's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"Corbin told me all about your sordid little arrangement."

Io recoiled, her jaw sagging.

Edith's smirk grew at Io's obvious shock. "He will be accompanying me back home. You should have seen how grateful he was at the news, how happy that he can slip away before you get a chance to make a scene."

"I don't believe you."

"It's true. He's already gone to make our arrangements for the journey." She smiled nastily. "I'm afraid he won't be making your Wednesday meeting today."

"You're a liar! Corbin is only going with you because you are too useless to ride a ship home without some man pandering to your every whim."

Edith sneered. "You poor fool! Don't you know that you are everything he despises in a female? Haven't you figured out yet that he has only been using you? He was willing to stomach your incessant advances and vulgar ways because it was cheaper than paying a prostitute but—"

Even as Io's hand flew, she knew that sinking to violence was a despicable reaction. But the look of shock on Edith's face and the rewarding sting on Io's palm were both worth the temporary loss of principle.

Edith shrieked and raised her hand to her red cheek. "You animal!"

"Violence is not the answer and I should not have hit you," Io said, unable to make herself say I'm sorry.

"You have shown yourself for the common whore that you are."

Io bristled and took a step toward the other woman, who stepped back so quickly she stumbled over her own feet. "I should not have hit you," she repeated. "But I do not regret it. Now, get out of my room before I deal with you the same way I would with any other vermin." Io punctuated her threat by stalking after Edith, backing her out of the room until she was standing in the corridor.

And still, Edith lingered. "This last half year with your family has been the most lowering of my life. I will be grateful to see the last of you and all your wretched siblings—and that includes your oldest brother. And if you think—"

Io slammed the door in her face, cutting off whatever bile was coming next. She had to admit it felt even more satisfying than the slap had.

Even though Edith was gone, her awful words lingered like a foul smell.

How had the other woman known about their Wednesday meetings?

No matter what Edith claimed, Io could notbring herself to believe that Corbin had told the other woman about Room 320. Nor could she believe that he would have said such awful things about her.

Edith had lied to her before—or at least twisted the truth until it was unrecognizable—there was no reason to believe she was not doing the same again.

Still, that did not answer the question of how Edith knew about their meetings.

Could she really be so vindictive that she would have had somebody following her?

You know she could be that vindictive and more, a dry voice said.

Yes, that was true. The woman had proven she had no limits when it came to manipulation. Io hated to think what Edith had learned about Apollo. As far as she was concerned, the sooner Edith left the country, the better it would be for all of them.

The one thing Io could believe was that Corbin was accompanying her back to New York. That was exactly the sort of antiquated chivalry he would exhibit.

But she refused to believe that he was planning to stay there. He would have told her if that was the case. She was sure of it.

A quick glance at the clock showed her that eight precious minutes had passed while she'd dithered.

If Io did not hurry, she would be late to her Wednesday meeting.