Chapter 17

Seeing Vanessa again, after just a brief absence, was the soothing balm to Easton's soul that he'd been needing. He couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from her, and he could tell it was the same for her. It had taken Mr. Porter to cease the hold that had taken over both of them.

Easton attempted to concentrate on the blank canvas before him and start to draw something astonishing, but all he could see was Vanessa. Her presence was everywhere. She was the breeze that surrounded him and each beat of his heart.

He clutched the brush in his grasp and dared to risk a glance over at her easel. He found that she was mirroring his pose, down to the white knuckled grip on the instrument in her hand.

Easton sighed and told himself that this moment would have to be enough to sustain him through the coming days, but the urgency to take her into his arms and kiss her was almost too overwhelming to deny. He closed his eyes in an attempt to gain control over himself and the unruly cock in his trousers that was starting to become insistent. It took everything he had to fight back the urges threatening to consume him.

For nearly a quarter hour, Easton noticed that neither of them gained a single stroke on the canvas. Finally, Mr. Porter mumbled, "I think I'll take a walk."

Easton looked up and saw Mr. Porter glance toward Vanessa, before he disappeared around the corner.

The moment he was out of sight, Easton tossed down his brush and rushed over to Vanessa who had done the same. Their arms were around each other, the kiss melding their mouths together in nearly the same breath.

"God, I missed you," he breathed against her lips.

"And I, you," she returned in the same manner.

He set his forehead on hers. "I pray this misery we've been forced to endure doesn't linger. I'm not sure how long I can withstand the thought of not being inside of you again."

He saw her swallow, and there was a momentary flicker of panic in his chest that made him wonder if she felt the same. Her next words eased his mind. "I want that, too."

Glancing around them, Easton saw that their stretch of sand was nearly deserted. There were a few stragglers about, but they weren't paying them any mind. Not only that, but with the large boulders creating a more intimate setting, they could easily hide from view from prying eyes.

"Let's not wait any longer."

She looked at him with those expressive blue eyes, that reddish-blonde hair shining in the sunlight, and uttered the most glorious word he could ever recall hearing. "Yes."

Ensuring that they were as concealed as they could be, he started to lift her skirts. He couldn't wait to touch her, to see color bloom on her cheeks as pleasure crossed her lovely features.

He nearly fell to his knees when he slid a finger across her wet core. "My God, Vanessa." He started a rhythm that had them both panting with desire. She clutched his shoulders and kissed him with almost wild abandon. The pride that expanded his chest, knowing that he was responsible for bringing out this new, uninhibited side of her was almost more than he could withstand. He wanted nothing more than to divest them of their clothes and lay her down on the soft, warm sand and sink into her welcoming heat.

If all he could do was bring her to release now and relieve his pulsing cock later, then he would be grateful for the chance. It caused him no end of confidence to know that where Mr. McGavin had failed, he succeeded fully.

"Easton…"

He held his breath as she tensed beneath his hand, and then she closed her eyes in ecstasy as her body shuddered. Her lips parted, and he couldn't resist kissing her tempting mouth. She eagerly returned the embrace, and when she became lax in his arms, he removed his hand from beneath her skirts.

The grin he bestowed on her was one of pure male satisfaction. "That was magnificent."

She looked at him through hooded eyes, the blue hue beneath swirling with contented fulfillment. "Shouldn't I be saying that to you?"

He chuckled, but then he sobered. "Vanessa—" He reached out and cupped her cheek. Looking deeply into her eyes, he yearned to pour out his heart and soul to her, but he didn't want to send her running away from him. In the end, he released her and stepped back. "I suppose we should be heading back."

There was a flash of something in her gaze, and he prayed that it wasn't hurt. But then she gave a nod and offered him a brief smile. "I suppose you're right," she murmured.

They each gathered their prospective items and after a lingering glance at her, Easton turned around and started to depart.

"Same time tomorrow?"

He paused. There was such a hopeful tone to her voice that he found he couldn't deny her. Whatever she wanted, or needed, he was hers to command. He looked back at her. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Offering that as the only indication to his true heart's desire, he continued on his way.

* * *

Vanessa returned to the boarding house. Once she had returned to her rooms and put her things away, she couldn't shake the feeling that Easton had been on the verge of telling her something important. Her heart skipped a beat when she considered what he might have been about to reveal. If he had actually spoken those three little words that carried such a large meaning, she realized she wasn't sure she would be able to utter them in return. Every fiber of her being screamed at her that the feeling was mutual, but with Frank's burial still pending, she didn't want anything to overshadow their newfound happiness. She wanted to express her adoration when her conscience could be free and clear of her past.

A soft knock at the door had her crossing the room and opening her door to reveal the Society maid on the other side. By the look on her face, Vanessa knew that the time of retribution was at hand. More than that, her heart sank because she knew she wouldn't be able to join Easton tomorrow.

"There's a gentleman downstairs—"

Vanessa held up a hand. "You don't need to say anything further. Let Mr. Chapman know that I'll be right down."

The girl bobbed a curtsy and took her leave.

Vanessa slowly braced her hand along the frame and tried to gather her courage before slowly descending the stairs. When she entered the parlor where all guests were taken, she spied the familiar stature of her husband's solicitor. She had met him many times before when he'd come to the estate, and while she wanted to say he was a weasel like Frank, the truth was, he had always been rather empathetic toward her situation. However, after she'd finally taken the leap to leave Nottingham behind, she had to wonder if he would look at her with such kindness as before.

"Hello, Mr. Chapman."

At the sound of his name, the balding, middle-aged man rose to his feet. A pair of spectacles were perched on his nose, and he held a valise in his grasp. She knew that he intended to discuss her husband's estate, or more likely, his debts. Thankfully, his heir, whoever that would be, would have to concern themselves with the future of the manor and grounds, but whether she was left with any sort of stipend was another matter entirely.

He bowed respectfully and said, "Mrs. McGavin." He waved a hand to the seat opposite him. "Please, sit. I'm sure you know why I'm here."

"Indeed, I do," she returned politely, as she settled herself. She forced herself to clasp her hands in her lap rather than worry the folds of her black widow's weeds.

The solicitor took a deep breath and gathered a leather ledger from his bag, and then he forged ahead. "I'm sure you know that the outcome is not favorable," he noted. "While your late husband left a settlement for…" He cleared his throat. "Mrs. Katharine Broadtree, I fear there is a very minimal income left for you."

Vanessa smiled tightly. Hearing Frank's mistress named aloud somehow made her more… real. There had been a time when she had been with Frank that she could almost pretend that his "mistress" was nothing more than a fantastical creature. But hearing her name called made her realize what a fool she'd been to remain as long as she had. She had known Frank wouldn't change, and yet, she had felt as though she had to offer some sort of penance to her father after his death, as if she somehow had to suffer because she'd caused her mother's demise.

She lifted her chin slightly. "I expected nothing less, but I can assure you the money doesn't matter to me. I never wanted anything from Frank but my freedom, and now that I have it, I am prepared to move on with the rest of my life."

Mr. Chapman closed his ledger and removed his spectacles. "Might I speak frankly?" When she nodded, he frowned slightly as he continued. "Your husband was not a favorite of mine, but I'm sure you might have already ascertained that." Vanessa said nothing because he spoke the truth. "I always regretted your circumstances, but it was not my place to interfere." He glanced down at his lap and then returned his focus to her. "Forgive me if I speak out of turn, but I wanted you to know that if you have found yourself in… difficult circumstances, I would be willing to offer you my hand in marriage."

Vanessa's brows rose in surprise. She knew that the gentleman was caring, but she didn't imagine that his devotion extended so far.

"I know I might not be the sort of man you might wish to wed," he added. "And I'm sure it's the last thing you want to do after being joined with such a scoundrel, but I should not like to see you suffer further. I would offer you a good home and—"

She reached out and laid a hand over his. She couldn't allow him to continue when it was obvious that he was soon going to ramble. She wanted to spare him the embarrassment. "Mr. Chapman. I appreciate your generous offer, but I can assure you that I am doing quite well at the Society. I have started to paint again and my work is highly sought after. I don't say that to boast but to ease your conscience. I value your honesty and your willingness to rescue me from a dark fate, but I am actually rather settled and happy." She paused, wondering if she ought to mention Lord Fane, but she decided that she would let the matter rest, so as not to add insult to injury in case Mr. Chapman was offering for her out of some deeper emotion.

When his face flooded with relief, some of her anxiety melted away. "I am very glad to hear it, Mrs. McGavin. When you left the manor so abruptly, I was concerned for your future."

She leaned back. "As you can see, all is well."

He smiled broadly. "Indeed, I can." After a moment, his expression sobered again, but it was as if a weight had been removed from the room. "As to your husband's affairs…"

Vanessa listened as he told her what she'd already known, that the manor had a sizable number of debts to be passed on to the next heir. When he asked when she would like to return to Nottingham to take care of the funeral, she said, "I should think as soon as possible if that is acceptable?"

He inclined his head. "That should work very well. I still have time to clear up some other matters while I'm here. Perhaps we might even travel back together on the public coach." He got to his feet as he prepared to depart, and although Vanessa did the same, she wondered why something in his statement gave her pause. As she thought of Easton, who was never far from her thoughts, she froze.

"Mr. Chapman, are you by chance the solicitor for Lord Devonshire?"

He looked at her askance for a moment, and then he nodded. "I am."

She thought she might be sick. "I believe you are also here to clear up the matter of James Theroux and Lord Fane, is that correct?"

This time, the man blinked in obvious surprise. "Indeed. But… how did you know?"

She sighed, knowing that she couldn't hide her knowledge from him, not when it was this important and involved Easton. "Have a seat. I think we need to have a longer talk."

He must have caught the seriousness in her tone because he obediently went back and sat down.

* * *

Easton was standing at the parlor window with arms crossed when he noticed a carriage coming up the drive. He had just decided that he did a lot of pondering in front of glass panes lately, but when he noticed the vehicle's arrival, he thought perhaps Lady Beauvais had returned from London already.

However, as the carriage came into clearer view, he realized that it wasn't the countess but some unknown visitor. A cold chill ran up his spine because some foreboding told him that he knew who was here.

He stood, unmoving, at the window, where he had a good perspective of the occupants when they might have descended. As the vehicle rolled to a stop, he was surprised to see that Vanessa was the first one to alight. But it was the balding, middle-aged gentleman who followed that caused the frown to crease his brows.

He remained there, wondering about this odd turn of events, when the butler came in and announced the arrival of a Mr. Chapman from Nottingham, as well as Mrs. McGavin. Although Easton wanted to know what this man had to say to him before alerting Mr. Porter, he knew that the man would be even more of an annoyance if he wasn't told of the visitors immediately.

"Show them in," Easton murmured while the servant bowed and left. Remaining where he was, he had to clench his jaw to keep from rushing across the room and drawing Vanessa into his arms when she appeared. She was still dressed as she was when they had parted, in that dreadful black. She would look remarkable in anything she wore, but it was a sore reminder of her current status.

"Mrs. McGavin," he greeted evenly as he slowly strode over to her.

"Lord Fane." He dared to hope her slightly breathless greeting was because she was just as affected by him, but he had to wonder if it had something to do with the gentleman at her side. She quickly made the introductions. "Might I introduce Mr. George Chapman? He is a solicitor from Nottingham. He arrived to discuss the matter about Frank's estate, but he is also here on behalf of Lord Devonshire."

A definite turn of events.

"I see," he murmured. He waved a hand. "Shall we all get comfortable?" They had just settled themselves when Mr. Porter entered the room. He spied the newcomer and once the introductions were made, the solicitor said, "Ah. I believe some funds are owed to you, Mr. Porter." He reached into his valise and withdrew a note that he presented to the thieftaker.

When Mr. Porter looked at it, his expression darkened. "This wasn't the agreed-upon amount."

Mr. Chapman shifted in his chair. "I was told that the funds decreased because you were supposed to deliver Lord Fane in a timely manner—"

"Was I supposed to drag him to London and toss him at the man's bloody doorstep?" Mr. Porter snapped. "Because when we spoke, he told me that holding him under my supervision would be sufficient and I would receive the full payment."

Again, Mr. Chapman looked uncomfortable. "I apologize for the error, Mr. Porter, but it is not up to me to question the baron's motives."

"No." Mr. Porter shoved the bank note into his vest pocket, and then he inclined his capped head curtly. With his jaw clenched tightly, his lips curved in a ruthless smile. "I shall have the honor of that conversation myself." He glanced about the room and said, "I know you will all be glad to be rid of me. Please give Lady Beauvais my kind regards when she returns from London. Or perhaps I shall see her on my way there."

He quit the room, and Easton saw the solicitor shake his head. "This is dreadful. That man is a brute. I shudder to think what he might do to the baron."

Easton didn't say what he wanted to—that if the man had cheated Mr. Porter out of his rightful funds, then he had a reason to be nervous. Instead, Vanessa soothed over the upset. "Mr. Porter seems very intimidating, but I don't know him to be a violent man."

She glanced at Easton with a question on her face, but he gave a slight shrug. In his experience, Mr. Porter was exactly that and more. He'd fought without hesitation when he'd been undercover at Mike's gaming establishment, and again when he was attempting to subdue him. If Easton had to guess, Mr. Porter had lived a life that most of them had only heard about whispered in dark corners. He had endured it all and survived, but not without learning the hard way to do it.

He wanted to say that was the last he would see of Mr. Porter, but he had the sensation that he would make a resurgence. By then, Easton hoped that he was well on his way back to Ireland and living the quiet artist's life he'd always enjoyed.

If he was lucky, Vanessa would be there, right by his side.

Seeing her immediately made his fingers itch to pick up the paintbrush and finish her portrait. It was to be his masterpiece. Of that, he was confident. She had a more sensual smile than the famed Mona Lisa, and yet, there was the same air of mystery beneath.

His gaze traveled down her widow's weeds, and he realized how much he despised black. He had never been that averse to it before, but the color did not suit her. She should be attired in deep reds, purples, and blues. She shouldn't be forced to hide her passions, her vitality. She ought to be free to express herself. Easton was eager for the moment where he might encourage her brazen responses once again.

He had to glance away in order to retain control over his raging emotions, or he feared they would carry him away, and he would be forced to whisk Vanessa out of the room right in front of the solicitor.