Sexual Hunger (10 page)

“Y
es…yes, this affirms my original visions. I sense that your Jason is far out to sea. Sailing west across the Atlantic…perhaps toward the Caribbean.”

Maria grabbed her brother’s arm, rattling the letter he held, in her excitement. “What else do you see?” she cried. “Is he all right? Does he realize what’s happened to him?”

Rubio closed his eyes again…raised his face in utter concentration. For what seemed like forever, he remained absolutely silent. Then his eyelids vibrated. His respiration slowed. “The Americas,” he murmured as his hand fluttered to his crown. “He is alive but—”

Maria gazed at his face, so striking in his trancelike state: his lustrous hair fluttered back over his shoulders and the tiny ring in his nose caught a ray of light from the window. He smelled of sandalwood and exotic cologne, and his silk poet’s shirt shimmered in shifting shades of red and purple as he searched inwardly—searched the universe—for signs of Jason. “But
what
?” she finally rasped.

Rubio’s eyes fluttered open. It took a moment for his gaze to stabilize. “I get no sense of
him
, but all around Jason I feel great…resentment. Desperation.”

Maria frowned. After begging for information in her column, waiting endlessly, and then receiving two responses, she did
not
want to hear bad news! “What do you mean, no sense of him? Either you have contacted Jason’s spirit, or—” She stopped there, afraid to think the unthinkable.

Her brother held her hand between his. He inhaled deeply to clear away whatever he’d seen—or wherever he’d gone—on a different plane. “While I sense he is present aboard the ship, I cannot feel his unique vibration,” he explained patiently. His dilated eyes looked huge in a face paler than usual: his astral journey had required a surge of sheer determination and psychic energy. “I have not established contact, meaning Jason has not responded, but I believe he is alive. Possibly injured or perhaps…unconscious.”

Her throat tightened around a scream. “Why do these little forays into your spiritual realm always leave me with more questions than answers, Rubio? This is so—damn—” Maria exhaled forcefully, fighting a fit of self-pity. All the tears in the world wouldn’t float Jason home, after all.

“Frustrating,” Rubio completed her complaint. “Frightful.
Annoying.
Do you think I enjoy leading you partway to the answers we seek, dear sister?” He sighed, pondering. “I would rather not involve other parties in our search for Jason, but time is of the essence. So we must.”

Maria’s eyes widened as she considered the possibilities. “You’re not going to consult with Yosef Polinsky to—”

“Why would I have anything to do with
that
impostor?”

Maria smiled meekly. “I’m sorry, Rubio. I didn’t mean to imply you aren’t powerful enough to—”

“Considering Lord Darington’s shipping interests on the eastern shore of North America, I believe we can best expedite this search by informing him of this latest—”

“You can’t tell him Miss Crimson received these two replies to her column! They’ll string me up and hang me by my toes!”

Rubio’s expression mellowed, yet he obviously wished she was more astute. “No, but
you
can tell him your brother, London’s most celebrated medium, has seen visions of Jason on a ship bound for America.”

“As though he’ll believe
that
!” Maria sprang from her chair to pace the small room where he performed his readings. “Jason’s family already considers me beyond the fringes of acceptability, so I can’t very well tout my brother’s predictions about—you’ll have to go to Wildwood with me!” she declared. “That doesn’t mean Jason’s father will believe either of us, but perhaps if Dora clutches these most recent straws—”

Maria paused, irritated, when she took in his catlike smile. “Why do I suspect that’s what you had in mind all along?”

“I don’t know, Maria. Why
do
you?”

Maria waited anxiously in the manor’s vestibule with Rubio while Thomas, the butler, announced them. It seemed they had arrived while a tempest raged among the Daringtons, for voices rang in a room down the hallway.

“It is only proper to declare ourselves in a state of mourning!” Dora cried. “My son—the heir apparent to the Darington title and estate—has been absent for an
unseemly
amount of time, and he’s sent us no word! People are beginning to
talk
!”

“Mother, that’s absurd!” Jemma replied just as vehemently. “Why should I forgo
my
social engagements, just because my brother got so stewed at his bachelor party—”

“Jemma! You will
not
speak ill of your dear, departed brother!”

“And besides that, I refuse to shroud myself head to toe!” the girl retorted. “The way black drains the color from my face, I might as well be dead myself! You’re just wanting a whole new wardrobe, even if it
is
weeds!”

“If you insist on this infernal bickering,” Lord Darington interrupted, “you shall take it to another wing of the house! I’m reading my newspaper, for God’s sake!”

Maria cleared her throat nervously. “I don’t like the sound of this,” she murmured. “Perhaps we should return another—”

“Nonsense.” Rubio draped his arm around her shoulders. “Perfect time to present them with a preferable alternative. No one
wants
Jason dead, after all.”

A movement in the hall caught their attention—the butler, muttering as he stalked toward the back of the house. But when Jude came out of the parlor, Maria’s hopes rose. “Jude!” she called. “Jude, what’s happening? What’s the fuss about?”

Jason’s twin brother brightened immediately and strode toward them. With a cautious look at Rubio, he grasped Maria’s hands and bussed her temple. “Just another day of drama here at Wildwood. Do you see why my brother insisted on living in town?”

“Perhaps we can help,” Rubio suggested. “We’ve received new information that might lead us to him!”

Jude’s eyebrows rose. “You should have come back to the—”

“I’m waiting to be announced…like the outsider I am,” Maria remarked quietly. “And I doubt Thomas could get a word in edgewise, with all that squawking in the parlor.”

“Damn manners anyway.” Jude led her by the hand, past impressive gilt-framed mirrors and marble statuary. Then he stopped short of the doorway, his voice covered by the rising tide of female voices in the parlor. “It is positive news, I trust? Mum’s in a peevish way today, I’m afraid.”

“It is. And
you
may be a part of our revelation, Jude.” Rubio winced when Jemma shrieked in defiance. “And it should quiet your darling sister, as well.”

“I’m for that!” Jude straightened to his full height, as though the past days had been difficult: the onus was on him for not knowing how his brother had disappeared on the eve of the wedding. “Mother and Father! Jemma! Look who’s here—with news about Jason!”

The three in the parlor turned, looking doubtful. Dora appeared thinner and her red-rimmed eyes bespoke a mother’s grief, a state of unraveling like a worn rug. Jemma’s cheeks flared as she clutched Willie to her shoulder, while Lord Darington glowered at them over the top of his newspaper. He looked ancient today; the lines around his eyes were etched more ominously than Maria had ever seen them. Clearly Jason’s absence was hitting home now, causing everyone here the same concern she’d been suffering alone in her room.

“Miss Palladino,” her fiancé’s father intoned as he eyed Rubio’s flamboyant shirt. He stood then, remembering his manners. “May I please believe you’ve not come to join in this female hysteria? It’s enough to make a man escape to a faraway island. Perhaps Jason had the right idea.”

“Phillip! You’ve no call to behave so rudely!” his wife chided. She crossed the parlor to grasp each of them by the hand. “What have you learned, Mr. Palladino? Just your presence here brings me a feeling of optimism! Of hope!”

“I appreciate your confidence in my abilities, Lady Darington,” he replied cordially. He made a show of kissing her knuckles. “And indeed, as I searched for signals from your Jason’s spirit—his presence, anywhere—I have reason to believe he’s aboard a ship bound for America. And that he was shanghaied.”

“
Shanghaied?
” Lord Darington noisily lowered his newspaper to his lap. “Why would I even consider that, when the Yard has had no indication—”

“Ah, but London’s finest can’t be everywhere at once, even if they’d have us believe in their omnipotence. The long arm of the law won’t reach out unless it has something to grab.” Rubio cocked his head slightly, appealing to Dora’s widened eyes, sensing she would give him the benefit of any doubt. “Even in this day and age, captains come up short of crewmen. It’s not unheard of for an unscrupulous shipping magnate to employ indecent, illegal means to procure sailors for his ships.”

“And my son’s headed for America?” Jason’s mother queried. “He should’ve been there by now! Why hasn’t he
told
us about this, when he could telegraph from—doesn’t he realize we’re worried
sick
over his disappearance?”

Maria shifted. The expressions on their faces held a hint that perhaps Jason
had
fled, and that
she
was the reason. “It’s possible he’s hurt,” she murmured. “Unable to respond when Rubio prods him from afar, searching for his energy.”

Lord Darington still scowled. “He’s an able-bodied seaman. Resourceful enough to get himself out of such a predicament—”

“Unless he’s unconscious. Or dazed.” Rubio turned to Jude then, reaching for his hand. “I came to see if I could establish clearer contact, with
your
help,” he explained, “for the bond between twins often defies logic or any powers I possess. May I?”

“Certainly! I, for one, have no doubt my brother was abducted against his will.” Jude joined hands with Rubio, all the while gazing at Maria. “Jason was deeply in love with his woman, and the pendant she wears speaks to her devotion, as well. Lest we Daringtons forget, Miss Palladino has dealt with more heartache and dejection than the rest of us combined. Yet she is
doing
something—using her resources—to bring Jason back to us.”

Maria’s heart swelled even though she dared not smile too widely: Dora and Jemma, while fascinated by her brother’s allegations, realized this second son was demeaning their behavior. He’d no doubt pay for it, too, but for now Jude stood with his eyes closed, following Rubio’s example.

The two men faced each other, deep in concentration, as the rest of the family watched. Her brother’s breathing deepened and his eyelids quivered…his face tilted upward as though he searched the heavens—or that universe within reach of his mind—while remaining physically in front of them. Maria knew that if she spoke to him, Rubio wouldn’t be aware of it.

After a few moments, Jude gasped. “Jason!” he whispered. “I fear he…has no idea of his situation. Shows no sign of recognizing me. No understanding of how to contact us—if indeed he…remembers he has a family at all.”

“How can that be?” his mother wailed. “Surely he knows we’ve been worried sick—”

“Unless he was tossed aboard, or fell. Those who’ve been shanghaied are often given a potent drug so the captain can head for open waters before they wake up,” Lord Darington remarked. His brow creased with concern. “If he got a good whack to his head, he could be cognizant but suffering from amnesia.”

“Who
did
this to him?” Dora demanded. Her expression had changed from one of dramatic dejection to maternal purpose. “You should send the police to wherever Jason might have—”

The older Darington stood up. Silenced his wife with a withering glare. “Sending the law on a wild-goose chase does Jason no good whatsoever. However, I
shall
send telegrams to my partners on America’s eastern seaboard, alerting them to this situation. Whatever vessel he’s aboard—if indeed this scenario is accurate—should have reached its destination by now.”

He studied Jude and then Rubio, weighing what to say next. When he focused on Maria, his harsh features softened slightly. “While I put little faith in performances given by the likes of Yosef Polinsky and your brother, Miss Palladino, I appreciate your rational approach—the fact that you brought this possibility to my attention,” he said. “Forgive me for overlooking your distress during this ordeal. And please—consider the town house your home while we await word of Jason’s condition.”

Her heart pounded. “Thank you, Lord Darington! I—”

“It’s the least I can do for a woman who doesn’t yowl like a tormented cat.” He smoothed the velvet lapels of his jacket as he glanced at his family. “I shall return after I’ve given my partners time to reply to my telegram—or when I’m damn good and ready. I expect to find order restored by then. Good day, Miss Palladino, and thank you,” he added with a stiff nod. “With gratitude to your brother, too, of course.”

Out the door he went, intent on his plans to locate his oldest son—and, most likely, to take the credit for finding Jason, too. Maria closed her eyes…focused on a fine, feisty vision of her fiancé in her mind’s eye, while sending him her most fervent plea:
Please, Jason, never forget how much I love you! How badly I need you here with me! I miss you so!

“Well, then! I suppose we’ve quelled Mumsy’s thoughts about pining away in layers of black bombazine and crepe,” Jemma said lightly. She grinned at Rubio, and then held out her albino ferret. “Would you like to say hello to Willie-boy? He
loves
to be stroked!”

Maria’s brother gingerly touched the creature’s head. Maria kept her hands clasped, smiling politely.

“Thank you for coming today,” the young blonde remarked coyly. “I was
so
upset, fearing we’d forgo Lord Galsworthy’s ball for Mum’s sense of
decency
! Now I’m going to shop for exquisite fabric for a new gown! Something in crimson or pink! I feel like a woman pulled back from the edge of her grave!”

“And I shall join you, daughter! We have cause for hope, if not celebration yet.” Gazing purposefully into Rubio’s eyes, Dora rose on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Then she glanced at Maria. “We’re invited for tea at Meriweather Golding’s tomorrow. We’d be pleased if you’d join us. I’m sure the hours pass slowly as you await word from Jason.”