Blythe's face was an odd shade between green and blue, with splotches of red burning on her cheeks. She looked ready to faint or vomit. Turning her head, her eyes met Calliope's; the latter stood arms folded, clearly amused.

"Silas..." Blythe's voice trembled as she glanced at him, her eyes pleading for help. She was losing control, desperately hoping for his rescue.

"Let's go grab something to eat," Silas said, strolling past her as if she were invisible. He offered Calliope his arm, and they walked away.

Calliope glanced back with a mischievous smile. "Mrs. White must really like the bunnies Silas gave you, huh? You're so kind and pretty. I'm sure you'll take great care of them, right?"

Blythe mentally pictured those rabbits roasted with rosemary and garlic.

Silas, noticing Calliope's glance, briefly turned to Blythe. "The rabbits are your responsibility now," he said coolly, nodding curtly.

Blythe managed a strained, "Sure, Silas. I'll look after them!"

Calliope chimed in, utterly serious, "And you can't eat them! Bunnies are so cute. How could anyone eat a bunny?"

Blythe felt herself reaching her limit. Those little furballs had soiled her suitcase, but with Silas's words, she couldn't risk appearing incompetent. What if neglecting the rabbits diminished him?

Fuming, she called a maid.

"Miss, what should we do with the rabbits?"

"Toss—" Blythe began, then remembered Silas's chilling gaze. Dumping them would enrage him.

She bit her tongue. "Just... set up a pen for them over there. Give them something to eat. Don't let them die," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"Yes, ma'am."

"And get rid of that suitcase and my clothes. Burn them if you have to."

Once that was done, Blythe requested a room next door. No way was she spending the night amidst rabbit droppings. This way, when Silas checked on the bunnies, it would seem she was tending to them properly.

Meanwhile, Calliope and Silas headed to the dining room. Mavis and Norton soon joined them, sliding into seats across the table. Uriah followed, glaring as if owed a fortune.

Calliope and her companions occupied a four-top; there was no extra chair. Uriah fixed Silas with a baleful stare.

Silas shrugged, "You wanna sit on my lap or something?"

"Find another table; there's no room here," Uriah grumbled.

Silas looked at Calliope. "My wife picked this table. I'm not moving."

Uriah stared in disbelief. Was this really the same Silas he'd shared a foxhole with? He was utterly smitten.

Traitor!

Uriah shot a pleading look at Mavis, his protégé. Shouldn't she support him?

Mavis didn't look up. "You didn't make plans with us."

Uriah felt utterly alone.