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hear him. “Water all around…a rocking, and—” His hand flew to his head and he grimaced with pain. “Foul play. Raised voices! A loss of control over—” Rubio convulsed, even as his thoughts remained in the netherworld. His eyes flew open, fearful, and he released her hands as though they were scorching his. Fought for breath until he could settle himself.
    “What’s happening? What do you mean, foul play? ” Her heart was pounding so hard she could barely get the words out. Never had she seen her brother look so frightened while he was in trance, as though horrible, painful things were being done to him in that other plane. He’d explained astral travel and how his soul left his body during these psychical forays, yet Maria had never fully understood how it worked, how he could slip inside the soul and body he connected with.
    Rubio stared at the opposite seat. This was the time he allowed his soul to reenter his body, so Maria sat still, pressing her lips together to keep from blurting out her questions. They were only a block from the town house. No doubt the Daringtons would arrive soon, after they’d dealt with the cancellations: the food and cake no one had eaten, the bills that must be paid as though she and Jason had actually married.
    Maria hugged herself. She was in no mood to endure Mrs. Booth’s opinions or Lord Darington’s temper, let alone the weeping and wailing Lady Darington and Jemma would delight in. She detested being their whipping girl: they would construe Jason’s disappearance as a sign that he didn’t want to marry her.
    And then it struck her, hard: what if his family insisted she move out of the town house? Where would she go?
    Rubio’s hand closed around hers. His long, soft fingers bespoke an artiste or a philosopher, but they gave her comfort; provided something to cling to, now that serious doubts would arise about Jason’s motives and methods.
    “Jason’s motives never changed, dear sister,” he murmured. “I sense he is injured. Most likely incoherent, so he has no idea he missed his wedding. His sole objective right now is to survive.”
    Maria’s jaw dropped. What could possibly have happened that—who could’ve overwhelmed him, physically and mentally, to the point he might die ? “Oh, Rubio,” she breathed. “We must find him! We must do something ! But how do we reach him?”
    Her brother stroked her hand between his. Never had she seen him look sadder as he gazed at her, as though she wore mourning rather than bridal white. “The pieces will fall into place, Maria—if we believe they will. You must keep your faith and hope strong and send them out to Jason in your prayers. Right now, it’s all he has to hang on to.”
     
    “Please, Mrs. Booth! I assure you this plate of bread and cheese is all I want, along with a pot of tea,” Maria insisted. The nosy old cook and Quentin had been hovering since Rubio left an hour ago, and she was reaching her wit’s end. Why was it more work to live with servants than to do without such insistent assistance ? “My concern is for Jason’s well-being. The fact that he didn’t show up at the church—nor has he come here —tells me something is gravely amiss.”
    “We’re concerned for your well-being, as well, Miss Palladino,” Quentin remarked with a worried scowl. “The last thing we expected was to see you coming back here with your brother! You must be devastated, now that the biggest day of your life has turned into such a fiasco!”
    “And what of Lord and Lady Darington?” Mrs. Booth queried in a rising voice. “One might suppose they would come here to discuss plans for your future—”
    “Or for locating their son,” the butler cut in.
    Maria gasped, exasperated. “I suspect the Daringtons are indeed discussing their plans, and they won’t inform me until they’ve made their decisions. I’m only the bride, after all!” The words tumbled out before she could catch them: while she’d been