Chapter 14

Vanessa awoke the next morning and decided that she had passed one of the most unusual nights of her life. When had everything become so complicated so suddenly? One moment she had left Nottingham, determined to forget about the dreadful mistake she'd made in marrying Frank. Although she had been of an age to make her own decisions, she hadn't had much choice in the matter because she hadn't wanted to be a larger disappointment to her father than she already had been.

She'd wed Frank in the hopes that it wouldn't be as terrible as she feared. By the time the truth was revealed, it was too late.

Determined to find a way out, she was astonished when her plan had worked and she'd made a successful attempt to get away from Frank. Burnham-On-Sea had been her refuge for several months. She had been reluctant to become too close to anyone when she'd arrived, but over time, she had developed a companionship with Miss Stratford and Miss Grantham that she hadn't known she needed. She had finally been able to paint and live the dream she'd always wanted. She might have kept to herself for the most part, but she had known she was safe. She had started to believe that she was Miss Carter, rather than Mrs. McGavin.

Now, the illusion was truly shattered. She would soon be reunited with Frank. Not only that, but she had met a man who she could actually imagine staying with for the rest of her days and he was lost to her. Once this mess with Theroux was cleared up, he would certainly be on his way back to Ireland and try to repair his life, which most likely consisted of putting Burnham-On-Sea far behind him. While this quaint seaside town had started out as Vanessa's salvation, Lord Fane likely had a rather different view. He was probably eager to retreat and put this entire sordid holiday behind him. At least he was painting again, so she could take heart that his journey here hadn't been entirely in vain. Not that she had assisted him very much. He already had the talent inside of him; he had just needed someone to bring it back to the surface.

She dressed and performed her morning toilette. As she opened her door to head downstairs for breakfast, the door right across from her opened. Surprised that she would have left her chamber at the same time as Lord Fane, she noted that he paused as well.

Her heart ached because he looked entirely too handsome for words. He was attired in a pair of buff trousers and a navy superfine jacket. Combined with the crisp white shirt and cravat, he made her breath catch and her pulse race. Even though his wounds from his personal battle with the thieftaker were still evident, she decided that they gave him a slightly dangerous air, one that she actually found appealing.

His eyes were riveted on her as he said softly, "Vanessa."

It was not lost on her that he used her given name, as opposed to her married one. And it would be awkward to continue calling her Miss Carter now that he knew the truth. "Lord Fane," she murmured.

The seconds ticked by, and then he dared to cross the corridor. He held out his arm to her. "Might I escort you downstairs?"

"Thank you, that would be very—"

Another door opened a short distance away, and they turned to see Mr. Porter exiting his rooms. He appeared rather similar to the viscount, in that he walked a bit stiffly, but the change was his attire. Lady Beauvais must have found a way to convince him to wear more fashionable clothes because he wore black trousers and a bottle-green jacket. He also wore a bright white cambric, but he had forgone the cravat. However, the familiar cap was still firmly in place and pulled down low over his brow. It was as if he couldn't give up the truly rakish air that he wanted to portray. Or he was that rebellious. Vanessa decided he was a particularly handsome man, similar in age to Easton if she had to hazard a guess, but his hard, silver eyes ruined any hope of being mistaken for a gentleman.

His steps faltered when he noticed them. He frowned, as if not sure what to say, but then he offered a muttered stammer. "Er… Good morning."

Vanessa decided to take pity on him. Although she was still not particularly fond of him, nor did she trust him as far as she could throw him, she had never been in the habit of being rude to those less fortunate. And considering his line of work, and his common attire, she had the feeling he'd lived a particularly hard life until that point. "Good morning, Mr. Porter. Would you care to escort me downstairs?"

He blinked as if confused. "It appears you already have an escort." He glanced at the viscount.

"Indeed," she concurred with a raised brow. "But only for my right arm." She extended her left one to him and hoped it would be the olive branch that would turn this manor into one of harmony, rather than strife. She could feel Lord Fane stiffen at her side, but she squeezed his arm gently with her hand and he seemed to calm somewhat.

Mr. Porter grinned as he walked forward and accepted her. "I can't possibly refuse such a tempting lady as yourself," he said in a smooth tone. He slid his triumphant glance at the viscount, and Vanessa decided she couldn't let that slight stand.

"If we are to get past this recent discord, you are going to have to be on your best behavior, Mr. Porter." She looked at him pointedly. "Lady Beauvais is a kind woman, and I would not have her disrespected if you and Lord Fane cannot find some sort of common ground. I have decided to move past my annoyance and make the best of the current situation. Surely you can both do the same."

Mr. Porter tipped his hat to her. "I daresay you are a worthy adversary, Mrs. McGavin. You certainly have an eloquent way with words to coerce others to do your bidding. I shall agree if the viscount does."

She turned to Easton. "My lord?"

He had a mutinous set to his mouth, but he eventually gave in. "Very well."

"Good." She smiled broadly. "Then let's eat."

As a united trio, they walked into the dining room where the countess was already in attendance. She had her wine glass halfway to her mouth, but when she spied Vanessa led by two men of completely opposing natures, her hand paused in midair. She set her wine down and exclaimed, "I daresay you are able to work miracles!"

As the two men released her and grumbled as they made their way to the sideboard, Vanessa joined the countess and whispered, "Nothing that a little charm couldn't overcome."

The lady pointed at her. "You, my dear, have just earned my everlasting gratitude." She glanced at the two men and added, "There may be hope that my house might just survive this encounter after all."

* * *

Later that morning, Vanessa was in the studio working on her secret portrait. She wasn't sure where Lord Fane nor Mr. Porter were hiding, but something told her they were doing their best to plot against each other in private.

Nevertheless, when she was told she had a visitor, Vanessa feared it might be Frank, but when she was told it was Lady Leia Harpin from the boarding house, she quickly wiped off her hands and draped the linen over her canvas as she headed to the parlor.

Lady Leia was sitting on the settee, as prim as ever. Her curly blonde hair was pulled up into a neat chignon, her blue eyes as full of delightful expression as ever. She was the one lady at the Society who Vanessa had considered befriending after Tassy had married and left to sail the world, should she have been given more time. Lady Leia was the daughter of a duke, but she had left high society behind to pursue her own dreams. She wanted to open a ladies' sparring center so that women who were accosted by the unwanted attention of a gentleman might be able to defend themselves accordingly.

Vanessa walked over, and they embraced each other in a fond, friendly fashion. "It's good to see a familiar face," she said with a warm greeting.

"I regret I haven't come sooner." Lady Leia gave a slight pout. "Miss Grantham and Miss Stratford thought it best to allow you your privacy, but you should know that I have never been very fond of taking orders from anyone, even from ladies as lovely as our patronesses."

"I had the idea that you wouldn't be easily dissuaded. You did join the Society when you could have used your dowry to purchase a duke of your own."

Lady Leia waved a dismissive hand and gave a moue of distaste. "I have no desire to bow down to any man, no matter his title." She paused and Vanessa could tell she was weighing her words. "With all due respect, after I heard of your situation, I am more determined than ever to remain alone."

Vanessa swallowed hard as she thought of Frank and those dreadful years at his side. But then she imagined Lord Fane in the same role and she realized that it would have been bliss rather than horror. "Please don't let my failed union dissuade you from finding someone you love. Marriage doesn't have to be distasteful or cruel. If you find someone who can make you happy, then don't hesitate."

Lady Leia tilted her head to the side and studied her thoughtfully. "You speak as if you have changed your mind about your husband."

"No, not about Frank," Vanessa returned. Eager to change the subject before she gave too much away, she patted the girl's hand and asked, "How is your sparring center coming along?"

She acted as though she wanted to learn more about Vanessa's statement, but since Vanessa assumed she had been raised not to pry into the affairs of others, Lady Leia gave a sigh and allowed the change in topic. "Not very well, I'm afraid. I have found a building that would suit my needs perfectly, but finding an instructor and ladies who might be willing to walk away with a broken nose is something else entirely."

Vanessa nodded. "I'm sure that's true. Don't lose heart. I'm sure it will work out in the end."

"Perhaps. I suppose time will tell."

"It is a loathsome creature at times, is it not?" Vanessa chimed in.

"Indeed." Lady Leia laughed. "Very much so."

The front door opened and closed, and then the sound of determined footfalls could be heard in the foyer. Moments later, Lord Fane and Mr. Porter entered the parlor. Vanessa lifted a brow, noting that their boots were covered with mud and their clothes hadn't fared very well either. "What on earth happened?" She groaned. "Don't tell me you were fighting again?"

She could hear the slight gasp from Lady Leia, but more than that, she noted the slight blush that stained her cheeks when she spied Mr. Porter. However, he didn't seem nearly as inclined to pay her any heed. In truth, he dismissed her completely as he gave a grunt and removed himself from the room.

The viscount made his way inside and made himself comfortable across from them. He glanced at Lady Leia, so Vanessa made the proper introductions.

"A pleasure, Lady Leia," he said smoothly, and then his focus was entirely on Vanessa. She was thrilled much more than she should have been by that action. As he explained his desire to take a walk that morning, he explained how he'd found himself with a shadow. Mr. Porter had insisted on joining him, to keep track of his "investment."

"We had gone near the edge of the property when we spied a tenant's wagon had partially fallen into a dry creek bed. Although there was no water to be had, there was some particularly thick mud, which made moving rather difficult for him. It took Mr. Porter and I, as well as the exhausted efforts of the tenant and his pair of chestnuts to finally get the blasted thing free." He blinked, as if suddenly realizing that they weren't alone in the room. He put a hand over his heart and glanced at Lady Leia. "Pardon me."

"There's no harm done, Lord Fane. Trust me, I have two older brothers that had no problems cursing in front of me and my younger sister."

He smiled. "That's a relief for me, then." He got to his feet and said, "If you will pardon me, I should clean up before I soil any more of the countess's fine furnishings."

The instant he was gone, Lady Leia turned to Vanessa with a brilliant smile. "I think I understand what you were speaking about earlier. Lord Fane is quite a handsome man, and he seems smitten with you."

Vanessa's face burned in embarrassment. She hadn't realized the girl was so astute, or perhaps it was obvious that her heart was on her sleeve. She prayed it was the former. "Don't be nonsensical. I'm a married woman, whether I like it or not."

"Perhaps," Lady Leia said as she got to her feet. Vanessa did the same. "But I am not blind to affection. I was taught how to flirt and recognize it in return." She pointed toward the door where the viscount had departed. "If you wanted him, it would be no trouble to secure his regard."

Vanessa stood speechless as the girl departed. She slowly sank back down onto the settee, her mind awhirl, although it shouldn't actually come as much of a surprise. Easton had given her pleasure, and the kisses they had shared made her yearn for so much more. It made her yearn for all of him.

Regrettably, more was quite impossible.

She might have asked him for more during a moment of weakness, but now she was glad that he'd turned her away, because whatever Frank might do, she wasn't the type of woman who broke the vows she'd made before God.

Closing her eyes, she held back the tears of frustration that threatened to fall and returned to her studio.

* * *

Once Easton had cleaned up, he decided to head to the studio to find Vanessa. He hadn't seen her much that morning, except when he'd relayed his tale with the stuck wagon, and he found that he was missing her lovely face. He enjoyed the confidence that was blooming around her with each passing day, and he prayed that once Mr. McGavin returned for his errant wife, that she would keep that same resilience.

He walked into the art room and didn't see her at the easel. Disappointed, he was about to turn around and look for her in the library, or perhaps return to the parlor where she'd been visiting with her friend, but then he saw movement over by the window.

He made his way to her side. "Vanessa?"

She jumped slightly and turned to face him. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear you come in."

"You must have been in deep thought."

"Yes, well…" She trailed off, and he wondered if Mr. McGavin's impending return was bothering her, or if it was something else.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he offered.

She shook her head. "I'm fine. Shall we paint?"

He wanted to take her into his arms and comfort her, perhaps offer her a kiss—perhaps a bit more—but he wasn't sure if that would be welcome or not, so he remained silent and took his place beside her at their prospective easels.

For a time, they worked in silence by each other's side. Easton tried to act nonchalant, as though her presence there wasn't driving him completely insane.

"Have you ever been in love?"

Easton nearly dropped his brush at the abrupt query. He looked at her and saw that she was still diligently working on her next project. Her face focused, as if she hadn't spoken. He wondered if he hadn't dreamed her question until she finally glanced at him with a curious expression.

He cleared his throat and took his time searching for the next color to mix on his palette. "I can't say that I have."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "I never found the right woman, I suppose. My sister didn't have trouble finding someone to share her life with, but I was never so fortunate." He clenched his jaw as the addition to that statement he didn't say was, Until now. Sadly, any attempt at gaining her hand was a lost cause.

"Did you come close to being engaged?"

Easton set down his brush and gave up any pretense of trying to concentrate. He looked pointedly at her. "Where is all this coming from?"

She sighed and slowly set down her things. "I suppose I have been wondering about what it's like to truly care about someone. I told you that my relationship with my father was strained and that my marriage to Frank wasn't a happy one. I respected my father because of who he was, but as much as I hate to say it, I'm not sure I ever truly loved him, not the way I should have, at least. I was just curious what it is like to truly love."

Easton considered his words before he spoke. He thought of his sister, with whom he had started to build a tentative relationship in recent years. All he could recall of his father was his role as the domineering head of the family until he'd died, and his mother who had enforced the same when Easton had taken over the title and the responsibilities as a boy. "I'm not sure I am the best person to ask that question. I love my sister, but it isn't the all-abiding affection that I could have for her. I would be devastated if something happened to her, but not destroyed." He gave a rueful smile. "I'm sure that doesn't sound any better."

"Don't you think it's rather sad that neither of us have experienced such an overwhelming emotion? Poets are continually speaking of it, and yet, it seems to be elusive for some."

"I'm not sure the poets believe all the drivel they spout," Easton drawled. "They have to make it sound eloquent if they want to be remembered for their verses."

"I suppose that's true," she agreed. "I have always wondered if they were sincere or not."

"Indeed. When it comes to love being like a red, red rose, I have to wonder if Robert Burns was speaking of an emotion or simply a color."

Her lips twitched. "In ancient Egypt, red was the color of Seth, the god of evil and chaos. In Christianity, it is most often associated with the devil."

Easton snorted. "It stands to reason that love and evil are closely related."

She glanced down at her hands. "When it comes to matters of the heart, I daresay you are right. Passion and animosity can be very closely related."

Easton stilled. He wasn't sure what she was trying to tell him, but he had the feeling there was a point to this conversation.

She lifted her blue gaze. "Can I tell you something without sounding completely mad?"

"Of course. I would like to think that we are friends." He swallowed down the bitter taste of regret regarding that word. He wanted there to be much more between them, but he knew it was a lost cause.

She glanced back at him, and her eyes filled with unshed tears, turning her blue eyes into a turbulent ocean. "I fear I shall never know what true love is like."