Chapter 13

Easton lay in bed that night, his arms folded behind his head as he stared at the canopy above him. He heard the case clock in the hall chime the hour. At last glance it was nearly two in the morning. Yet another hour had passed while he waited for sleep to claim him. Unfortunately, when he was consumed with thoughts of Vanessa, he found it difficult to relax. He kept thinking of earlier in the day when she'd asked him to lay with her and how foolish he'd been to refuse. There were times that his honor was a bit too annoying for his tastes.

Unfortunately, he also wasn't in the habit of bedding women who were promised to another. Although McGavin didn't deserve either of their loyalty, Easton was more concerned with how he might react if McGavin came to collect his errant wife. In the eyes of the law, McGavin had every right to intervene. Other than murdering the man to free her and sending himself to a life of imprisonment for killing a prominent magistrate in cold blood, there was little else that Easton could do to protect her. Neither scenario ended very happily.

Restless, he decided that was enough pretense in trying to get some sleep. It was time to turn his thoughts to the other problem at hand—his accuser, Lord Devonshire. He had to find out more, but the only person who might offer that information was Mr. Porter. And after the way he'd talked to Vanessa earlier in the day, his fist was itching to teach the man a lesson in proper comportment.

Slipping on his trousers, boots, and a shirt, Easton decided that he would make his way to some of the local haunts in Burnham-On-Sea in an effort to draw the rat out of his hole. He had no doubt that he was still staying close by. He would want to ensure that he was paid the money due to him for alerting his employer to Easton's whereabouts.

Shrugging on a jacket, but eschewing a waistcoat and cravat, Easton lit a lantern and then headed downstairs and made his way out the front door. He headed to the stable to retrieve his horse, but the moment he grabbed a saddle, a voice spoke up from the darkness. "Going somewhere?"

He spun around to see a cheroot glowing from a hay bale. The figure reclining there was wearing a hat pulled down low. Easton snorted as he set the saddle back down. He dusted off his hands. "I didn't realize you were so devoted to your work to lurk about in a stable yard."

"I'm devoted to money. There is a difference."

Easton crossed his arms. "What a lonely life you must lead."

"I'm content as I am." The cheroot glowed once more, and a soft cloud of white smoke erupted between them.

Easton tilted his head to the side. "This is actually quite fortuitous because I was hoping to find you."

"Congratulations. Mission accomplished," came the dry rejoinder.

"Tell me about Lord Devonshire."

Mr. Porter sighed heavily. "I thought this was going to be an interesting conversation."

Easton frowned. "It could be very interesting if I were to learn why he wishes to arrest me. I don't even know the man."

"The feeling doesn't appear to be mutual."

Easton ground his teeth. Talking to the man was like running about in circles. "What do you know?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"You said you are devoted to money. I can pay for information."

"So, you can seduce another man's wife?" he shot back boldly.

Easton's fists clenched at his sides. "This has nothing to do with Vanessa, but since you brought it up, I would ask what sort of worthless scoundrel speaks to a woman who has suffered at the hands of McGavin. She was fortunate to escape with her life intact."

Mr. Porter snorted. "Women have a tendency to stretch the truth for pity."

"Not this woman," Easton returned firmly. He took a step toward the man, but the cock of a pistol made him hesitate.

When his adversary moved slightly, the flame from the lantern cast an eerie shadow on the metal. "Not so fast, Lord Fane." He exhaled heavily. "You won't catch me off guard a second time, but I daresay you do have me intrigued. I can't speak for McGavin, but if what you say is true about his wife, then I can understand why you are so determined to rise up in defense of her honor. Then again, you might just be concerned because your cock demands it."

"I know that I will have the pleasure of challenging you to a duel someday soon," Easton gritted through his teeth. "Until that time, perhaps you might take a look at your own conscience. You already know that McGavin is a libertine. What other proof do you need of his foul deeds?"

"Unless there is money involved, I don't generally care about the habits of others. The only reason I find myself involved now is that you are so blinded by the lady that you refuse to see any other possibilities."

Easton shook his head. "You are so blinded by your own prejudices that you can't see the truth when it is presented before you." He narrowed his eyes. "The woman who tormented you left some nasty scars to cause such resentment."

Mr. Porter stood. "You know nothing about me," he snapped.

"I can see I hit a nerve," Easton said smoothly. "Perhaps you should seek a physician for your bruised heart—"

The barrel of the pistol was pressed directly against the center of Easton's chest. "I would learn how to silence that errant mouth of yours if I were you."

Easton laughed. "Why? Because you can't handle the truth? You are so quick to judge others and their behavior, but you can't face your own past—"

"That's enough!" Mr. Porter raised his arm to deliver a punishing blow.

Easton found his opening.

While he was distracted, Easton allowed the full weight of his body to fall into Mr. Porter. The gun fell out of his hand and hit the packed-dirt floor with a thud. Easton didn't hesitate. He brought back his fist and set it directly into Mr. Porter's face. Pain shot through his hand at the impact, but he ignored it. He was about to make a second impact, but Mr. Porter came back with a punch to Easton's midsection, temporarily causing the breath to rush out of his lungs.

The thieftaker started to crawl toward the gun, but Easton pounced on him. Their combined momentum caused them to roll about the floor in a tangle of limbs that would result in a battle of fisticuffs when one of them was able to take a shot. Easton could feel the moment when his lip was cut open by Mr. Porter's knuckles, and he saw the other man's eye start to swell after a well-placed fist of his own.

They rolled around on the ground some more until Easton was able to cause Mr. Porter's nose to bleed while Easton suffered a possible broken rib.

A gunshot broke through the air. Immediately, both men broke apart and scrambled to a sitting position as they stared at the lone figure in a white nightdress and robes.

"That's quite enough foul play, gentlemen. Why don't we reconvene to the house and confer like ladies do—over a glass of spirits?"

* * *

Vanessa was furious. She had been up most of the night, pacing her chamber, wondering if Easton might come to her. She nearly considered going to his rooms, but she wasn't about to act as though she was that desperate for his attention.

Refusing to spend the rest of the night cursing his name, she headed downstairs to the kitchens to heat up some milk. That's when she happened to glance outside and notice the brawl transpiring by the flickering lamplight.

She stomped out to the stable, intent on putting an end to this errant nonsense. When she saw them completely engrossed in their hatred, she spied the pistol and decided to take matters into her own hands. The groom at her father's estate had been the one to show her how to handle the weapon, and if she had the time, she could reload it and use it again. Thankfully, that hadn't been necessary, as the first shot gained their full attention.

She would never understand a man's need to prove his importance by acting in such a manner, but she supposed it would serve them right, for they would no doubt be feeling the effects of their ridiculous actions once the adrenaline had worn off.

Heading in the front door of the manor, she didn't wait to see if they followed her. Instead, she went into the front parlor and headed straight for the sideboard. Taking the top off the crystal decanter, she poured herself half a glass and downed the vile brandy before she cast up her accounts at the thought of imbibing a single drop. Considering her entire future had been bartered on this very drink, she had never particularly cared for it. Tonight, however, she didn't really care. She just wanted something to calm her nerves, or she was bound to murder both Easton and Mr. Porter with her bare hands.

She spun around when she heard the shuffle of feet coming into the room. She stalked over and glared at each of them in turn. "How dare you disrespect Lady Beauvais's hospitality in such a manner? She did not offer you sanctuary so that you could ruin her settee with your dirty clothes and your idiocy. And you—" She pointed directly at Mr. Porter. "I can't say how much I revile you at the moment. You should be ashamed of yourself for acting as if you are as intelligent as you believe. You dare to impugn my history with Frank, when the truth is, after the whole debacle with Mike's gaming hell, I would be reluctant to show my face around here any longer. There are still definitive rumors that you were involved, and I'm sure it wouldn't take much to convince the local courts that you should be found guilty of such crimes."

"I have an alibi that would prove I wasn't connected to Lady Ashefeld."

"And yet…" She put her face directly into his line of vision. She used to fear this man, but standing there and watching him bleed now, she realized that he wasn't anything more than a simple commoner who used his persona to strike fear into the hearts of others. He was a bully, no different from Frank, and it was time she started to take a stand against men like him. "There are several witnesses who would suggest otherwise. I would certainly be glad to testify against you."

He went silent after that, but she could tell by the tightness of his stubborn jaw that he wasn't the sort who would easily accept defeat. That was fine because Vanessa recently discovered that she would not either. She downed the second glass and set the tumbler aside.

"What on earth is going on—?"

All three pairs of eyes turned to the countess as she entered the room. Vanessa blinked because it was the first time she'd ever seen the lady without any of her finery, and her hair hanging down her back in a long, dark plait. She looked decidedly less intimidating as well, although her voice was still formidable as she snapped, "I am quite put out that I wasn't invited to a party in my house." She glared at the newcomer. "Mr. Porter, I daresay this is a surprise, although it doesn't appear to be a welcome one."

He sat back against the settee and removed his cap, placing it on the seat beside him, revealing dark hair that was shorn about his neck but remained long in the front and fell over his forehead. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, one of which was nearly already shut from its encounter with Lord Fane. "I was promised a drink."

Vanessa would have rolled her eyes if it would have done any good. She walked over to the sideboard and poured two glasses. She handed one to the viscount, pretending not to allow the sight of his bruised face to injure her too deeply, shoved the glass into Mr. Porter's hand, and then took a seat next to the countess.

"I think it's time you told us everything you know, Mr. Porter," Lady Beauvais said evenly.

He said nothing at first, just steadily drained the brandy from his glass until it was gone. When it was, he calmly opened his eyes and looked at each of the occupants in the room, before settling on Vanessa. "I apologize for speaking so bluntly regarding McGavin and his mistress. The truth is, your husband is quite known to me after all."

Vanessa braced herself for what he might reveal next. "Is he behind Lord Fane's arrest?"

"No. But there has been a development for which I think you should be aware." He slid his focus to the viscount. "I lied when I said that I had only been watching you. I was under orders to find Mrs. McGavin as well. With you both at this estate, it has made it infinitely easier for me to report on your movements, especially if there is anything unusual transpiring."

"Such as?" Lord Fane prompted.

Vanessa held her breath as Mr. Porter continued. "Let me begin with your crimes, Lord Fane. I was told, by Lord Devonshire, that you had copied the style of James Theroux, a close personal friend. I saw one of your paintings along with his in a side by side comparison, and I must admit there is a definite connection, right down to the brush strokes."

"James Theroux." Vanessa saw Easton run the name through his mind as if searching his memory. Finally, the puzzle piece clicked into place. "My God."

"I assume that name is more familiar to you," Mr. Porter noted dryly.

"Indeed," The viscount confirmed. "But I can assure you that he is the one stealing from me." He took a deep breath and then explained, "The last time I was in London, my painting was flowing smoothly. I was reluctant to leave my estate and travel to London, but my cousin, Lord Stanton, wanted me to speak with a local painter who was in need of assistance. Since I was never one to deny anyone the chance to paint, I made the journey. That is when I first met James Theroux. I tutored him for about a month, showing him everything that I had learned. I never imagined that he looked at me with anything other than grateful assurance. I took my leave and did not give him much thought for the next several years. In truth, I had forgotten him entirely until just this moment."

"Do you know any reason he might hold a grudge against you now? Or why he might have wanted to assume your work as his?" the countess asked curiously.

"Not at all." Easton shrugged. "All I can imagine is that he might have been jealous of my success."

"But that isn't true, is it?" Mr. Porter returned with a tight smile. "You have been in Ireland, so you aren't aware that he is quite well-known in London for his works. He is invited to all the society parties and has a faithful following. It is how he was able to convince Lord Devonshire to arrest you after all these years."

Vanessa saw Easton sit back, stunned at this turn of events. He took a moment to allow this information to sink in, and then he turned to her. As their eyes met, he asked, "What is McGavin's role in all this?"

"Haven't you figured that out already?" Mr. Porter snorted. "He is the magistrate assigned to the case. He is the one who contacted the local authorities."

"Which means he will also be coming to Burnham-On-Sea," Vanessa noted woodenly. At this point, she wasn't sure what to feel anymore. She was almost numb to the fact she would see her husband again. All she knew was that it wouldn't be a blissful homecoming. At least she knew what to expect. She clasped her hands together calmly. "I'm not running anymore. I will face him when he arrives."

"Vanessa—" Easton said her name, but she interrupted him with a soft smile.

"It's what I must do."

Lady Beauvais patted her hand. "I will be beside you the entire way."

"Thank you, my lady," Vanessa said sincerely. "I appreciate your unfailing support."

"Of course." She turned her wizened eyes to Mr. Porter. "Since it won't do to have you sneaking about my property, I will have a room prepared for you. We shall all be one big reluctant family for a few days until all this reaches a final conclusion, whatever that may be." She got to her feet. "I trust that will work for you, Mr. Porter?"

He leaned back against the settee. "I'm content to stay in Burnham-On-Sea for however long it takes to earn my trouble by bringing in both Lord Fane and Mrs. McGavin. I daresay I could use an extended holiday."

The countess nodded her head. "Very well. Now that's all settled, I am going to try to get some rest and face a new day. I suggest that you all do the same."

* * *

Easton got to his feet. He wanted to speak with Vanessa, but she departed with Lady Beauvais, so he had no choice but to wait for another opportunity. He supposed he could go to her chamber, but he was filthy and bloody, in no shape to attempt to comfort her about the coming confrontation with McGavin.

"There's always tomorrow."

He turned to glare at Mr. Porter, who had slowly risen. If anything, it gave him a small amount of satisfaction to see the man was just as miserable as he currently was. "What are you talking about?"

He received an eye roll. "You were right. There was a woman who left me to die. Quite literally, in fact. As you might have guessed, I've made some enemies along the way in my line of work, and some of my side ventures, like Mike's." He grinned and then winced when it pulled the skin around his eye. "I vowed I would never let another female take advantage of me like that. It's why I'm not very trusting of those serpentine creatures. But I admit I may have been wrong about Mrs. McGavin. She seems much more honorable than her counterpart. I would do whatever is necessary to free her from him."

Easton narrowed his eyes. "I fully intend to do just that."

As Mr. Porter hobbled his way out of the room, Easton walked over to the window and glanced out over the still dark night. He glimpsed his reflection in the windowpane and grimaced at what he saw. It was no wonder that Vanessa had been so furious with him. He was a sight to behold. His clothes were torn and ground with dirt from the stable. At least, he prayed it was just dirt.

With a sigh, he made his way up the stairs, holding his side as he went. He didn't think that anything was broken because he could still take a deep breath without wincing in pain, but he would be sore for a few days while he recovered.

At least he wouldn't have to worry about being tempted to visit Vanessa. He was much too uncomfortable to do anything more than lie down.

When he went to his chamber, two footmen had just exited with two buckets in their grasp. He saw that the bath had been pulled out for his use and was filled with steaming water. He might have kissed Lady Beauvais for her consideration if she had been nearby.

He removed his soiled clothing and sank into the welcome heat. He laid his head against the edge of the copper tub and sighed in contentment. He closed his eyes and soon his mind started to drift somewhere between consciousness and dreams.

He saw Vanessa, in her white, flowing nightdress coming toward him out of the dark. Her reddish-blonde hair was flowing around her shoulder, long and free. As she made her way toward him, she slowly started to untie the laces of her clothing. By the time she reached him, he could clearly see the delicate swells of her breasts. He yearned to reach out and cup their fullness, but she danced out of his reach.

When the material slid off her shoulders and pooled at her feet, leaving her gloriously naked in front of him, his heart started to pound. He wanted nothing more than to sink his cock into her wet heat, to lose himself in her welcome embrace.

Easton's eyes popped open. As the water slid around his erect pulsing cock, he realized that he wasn't quite as sore as he'd imagined if he could still think about Vanessa and get this hard. He reached out and grasped his member. He started a slow rhythm that soon had him panting with desire. His movements increased as the water splashed vigorously around his midsection. He hissed through his teeth as his body coiled, readying himself for release.

The muscles in his neck contracted, and his arms tightened as he neared the precipice. He gave a groan, his toes curling as spurts of white-hot ejaculation erupted from him. The orgasm seemed endless, but finally, his movements ceased and his head fell back against the tub. He was truly replete, and exhaustion had started to seep into his bones.

He stepped out of the tub and dried himself off, before walking over to the bed and tumbling into it, fully naked.

He started to dream of Vanessa but realized it was a mistake when he started to stir with new arousal. Instead, he imagined himself standing on the beach with a brush in his hand, the sun beating down on him as he slowly allowed himself to drift off.