Chapter 18

"Back to the matter at hand—"

Vanessa heard Mr. Chapman speak, but her gaze was riveted on Easton and the hooded look he set upon her. It made her feel all warm and flushed.

With her pulse fluttering, she had to pinch the inside of her arm to bring her back to the present so that she could concentrate on what the solicitor was saying.

Opening his satchel, Mr. Chapman withdrew a paper and handed it to the viscount. "Lord Fane, I must say the accusations against you are quite serious. Mr. James Theroux claims that you have been copying his works and profiting off them while he is near destitution."

"It sounds to me as if he is seeking money he did not earn at all," was the scornful reply. As he read the document in his grasp, he soon gave a derisive snort. "This is absolutely ludicrous. I painted Well of Spring almost three years before Mr. James Theroux's work was ever shown to the public, and yet, he dares to say he was the creator?"

"Do you know who holds the painting in question, Lord Fane? A study of age by an expert could surely clear up this matter."

"I can't readily recall, but I shouldn't think it would matter." He paused. "I have ensured that all my work is secured where there is no doubt that I am the original artist."

Mr. Chapman nodded. "Very good. That will make things infinitely easier for the barrister to plead your case in front of the courts." He shuffled a few papers around as he spoke. "There is a court date set for the end of the week in London—"

Vanessa glanced at Easton, who interrupted the solicitor in midsentence. "I am to travel to London?"

Mr. Chapman paused to look at him. "If you do not wish for the charges to drag on any longer, it is the best course of action. One of the top barristers has agreed to handle your case. I would suggest not keeping him waiting."

Easton scrubbed a hand down his face. "Very well."

"Might I also suggest invoking the privilege of peers?" Mr. Chapman continued. "You might not wish to use the power of your title to gain special consideration, but I think, in this instance, it would be wise. If found guilty, there would be no punishment since it's your first offense."

The viscount inclined his head before his focus shifted to Vanessa. "I will do whatever is necessary to protect Vanessa's reputation."

Not his. Hers.

She was touched by his thoughtfulness. "Thank you." She decided this was the appropriate time to tell him her plans as well. "I shall be going with you as far as London but then traveling on to Nottingham to put Frank at rest."

Lord Fane turned to the solicitor. "Might you give us a moment, Mr. Chapman?"

As he returned his focus to her, their eyes held, the tension beginning to swirl in the air, an awareness that only grew each time they were together. The solicitor got to his feet and said, "Of course. I shall escort you back to the Society, Mrs. McGavin, and we shall all head out in the morning if that is amenable to you, Lord Fane?"

"That will be ideal," he agreed.

Mr. Chapman turned to her. "I shall await you in the carriage."

The instant he departed, Vanessa and Easton crossed the expanse until they were in each other's arms. His mouth swooped down on hers, and they clung to each other tightly, as if fearing one would vanish should they not take this moment and embrace it with everything that they had.

When they finally parted, he cupped her face in his hands. "Why don't you wait until the trial is over and I can go with you? I thought we agreed I would join you for the funeral."

"I need to do this on my own, or I shall never be free of him."

He closed his eyes and set his forehead against hers. "I cannot wait for the day we can look forward to a future that is free of tribulation."

He moved away, and she wanted to reach out and bring him back to her, but there was too much standing in the way right now. At times, she wondered if they would actually be free of any impediments. She felt as though the odds continued to stack against them.

"You should go, or I might be incapable of letting you leave at all."

Vanessa could appreciate the torment in his voice because the same emotion ran through her lungs and nearly suffocated her. Not only was she anxious about the days to come, but she had to wonder what else would find a way to keep them apart.

She shuddered to imagine.

* * *

Easton knew it was going to be hard to go to sleep that night. It wasn't that he was that concerned about what might happen in London. He knew he had nothing to hide, and the letter asking for the name of the buyer of his painting was already on its way to Ireland. Either way, he knew he was innocent and it would be difficult to prove otherwise. It did bother him that, for some reason, Mr. Theroux wanted to destroy his reputation and put him in a bad light.

No, he was more concerned about Vanessa and what memories might resurface when she returned home for Mr. McGavin's funeral. Although Mr. McGavin and Vanessa were married, he found it impossible to refer to him in a more intimate manner. He was a scoundrel and a libertine, and he didn't take kindly to men who didn't take their responsibilities seriously. And the fact he'd hurt Vanessa almost beyond repair, to the point she'd run away rather than remain and suffer any further abuse, did not raise his esteem. In truth, if the man hadn't allowed his own foolishness to gain his death, then Easton wasn't certain he wouldn't have done the job himself.

If he had offered Mr. Porter enough money, there was no doubt the thieftaker would have done it without a second thought.

He sighed, but when there was the sound of urgent footsteps, followed by the knock at his door, he got up and threw a robe over his nakedness before admitting the late-night visitor.

Lady Beauvais was standing there, looking particularly harried. It wasn't often that he saw her looking so frazzled. Whatever her reasons for interrupting him were likely of the highest importance. He instantly feared that something had befallen Vanessa, but when the lady mentioned the Crown, he had the sinking feeling that it might be far worse than he'd initially imagined.

"Lord Fane! I am sorry to wake you—" He didn't correct her assumption that he'd been asleep. "But I have just returned from London with the most shocking news! It is quite dreadful to the point that the Crown has been forced into action."

He opened the door for her to enter. She walked into the middle of the room and wrung her hands, truly distraught. He did his best to retain his calm, but he was starting to find it difficult to retain his composure. He waited for her to continue speaking.

"As you know, Lord Devonshire was originally working with the gentleman who accused you, but he has found himself in dire straits lately after he engaged in a duel that killed Mr. McGavin. For all his faults, he was a prominent magistrate, which has made this a rather delicate situation for the baron."

She paused to glance at him, as if to gauge his reaction, but this was all information he already knew. "Go on."

The lady nodded. "Of course, the entire sordid event was spurned by a woman, Mr. McGavin's mistress." She paused. "Were you ever apprised of the lady's identity?"

Easton's brow furrowed as he searched his memory for the last bit of information that he'd received from his investigator—before he'd been arrested and no longer needed his services. "Mrs. Broadtree, I believe. Does it somehow signify?"

"Very much so," Lady Beauvais nodded emphatically. "Her late husband was William Broadtree, a shipping magnate with a fortune if not a title. But it's her relation that has given me cause for concern. Lady Ashefeld is the woman's very sister! Since you were instrumental in sending the lady to the gaol for her role as ‘Mike' in that illicit gaming hell, she is looking for revenge. She was already engaged in an affair with Mr. McGavin, so no doubt he was instrumental in assisting her, but it was the additional backing of the baron that has caused the additional recourse. The duel is the only drawback to their plans and what might be the solution to gaining your freedom."

Easton considered this information, but then he shook his head. "It shouldn't matter who she has to fight for her, the truth will be in the painting. When the buyer comes forward—"

"But that's just it!" Lady Beauvais wailed in alarm. "Mr. Broadtree, her late husband, was the one who purchased the piece. Along with Lord Devonshire, they have put together the most sordid scenario. When it was discovered that you were in Burnham-On-Sea alongside Mrs. McGavin, they are trying to claim that, not only are you a charlatan who is attempting to present yourself as an honest man, but you were also consorting with a married woman." She clucked her tongue. "I fear the accusations are piling up against you. We shall need several witnesses of our own to come forward and vouch for your character if you are to survive this with your honor intact. Fortunately, I have enlisted the assistance of the finest barrister in London to represent you. I'm sure you were told this earlier today by your solicitor."

In light of this new evidence, it was true that he not only had to prove that his painting was the genuine one, but he also had to find a way to keep his reputation from being dragged through the mire—as well as that of Vanessa's. "What of Lady Ashefeld and her transgressions? Will that count for nothing in my defense?"

Lady Beauvais looked grim. "Mrs. Broadtree's argument is that you seduced her sister, just as you did Mrs. McGavin, and that you were the true villain of the gaming hell. She claims her sister is innocent of any crimes."

Blowing out a heavy breath, Easton shoved a hand through his hair and decided that he needed to sit down. He needed to think of the best way to approach this mess without it ruining what future Vanessa might retain for herself.

"I have begged Prinny for help on this matter, but his opinion is inclined toward Lord Devonshire, as he has recently been a particular ear for the Crown in recent weeks. No doubt it has all been a ploy to gain the Crown's assistance." She sniffed her obvious displeasure. "I thought of sending a missive to you, but not only was I uncertain that you would believe such a tale, but I also heard that Mr. McGavin's solicitor had left for the coast. I knew that you might be returning with him, so I returned as quickly as I could."

He sat back in the chair and regarded her solemnly. "I don't know how I shall ever repay your kindness, Lady Beauvais," he said in all sincerity. Putting a hand over his heart he added, "Allow me to set your mind at ease about any doubts that might be lingering. I will find a way to turn the tide and prove my innocence."

"I know you will," she said directly, sounding more like the woman he'd come to know. "If I didn't think you were a good man, I would not have allowed you anywhere near Vanessa." Her lips curved upward. "The only thing I want from you is your paintings, so I can display them in my new gallery, alongside Vanessa's art."

He lifted a brow. "Are you sure you will still want them if they are tainted by accusation?"

She laughed this time. "Lord Fane, to me, that is what makes them even more valuable."

* * *

The next morning, Vanessa bid a fond farewell to Miss Stratford and Miss Grantham, as the countess's coach carrying her, Lady Beauvais, Lord Fane, and Mr. Chapman headed for London. While they were all heading toward a similar destination, the silence inside the interior was almost deafening. Lady Beauvais had kindly offered to go with Vanessa to Nottingham, and she was grateful for the support.

At the moment, Vanessa couldn't help but glance out the window at the passing scenery, thinking of the day she'd ridden down this same road under very different circumstances. Then, she'd been a woman fearing for her life, on the run from her husband. This time, the mood was just as solemn, but the fear that touched her heart had nothing to do with Frank, but the anticipation she felt for Easton.

After the countess had apprised all the occupants of what she'd learned in London, Vanessa had immediately glanced at the viscount. He had attempted to appear brave and unfazed in light of it all, but she could see the toll it was starting to take. The lines that bracketed his mouth were more pronounced and there were shadows beneath his eyes that weren't there before. In truth, he looked as despondent as when they'd first met, before he'd rediscovered his muse in her. However, at least there had been hope then. At the moment, she had yet to figure out where salvation might come from. She had no doubt about Lord Fane's innocence, and she couldn't imagine why anyone would want to villainize such a wonderful and caring man, but she supposed there were plenty of evil people in the world. Frank had been a prime example.

She slid her glance at Easton now and saw he was looking out the same window that she was. Mr. Chapman had decided to read on the journey, and Lady Beauvais was dozing softly beside her. It gave Vanessa an uninhibited moment to observe her lover.

She yearned for the moment they could be joined together again. In spite of everything that was happening, Vanessa had to admit that he was still devastatingly handsome. She still adored his brown hair and those neatly trimmed sideburns, and his amber eyes were as mesmerizing as the first time she'd beheld them.

She recalled a conversation she'd had with him about fearing she would never know what it was like to truly love someone. She no longer had to worry about missing out on such a raw, vulnerable emotion because there was no mistaking her attraction to Easton as anything other than absolute love. The thought of living the rest of her life without him struck panic into the center of her chest, although the prospect of marrying again did the same.

Whatever might occur in London, she was determined to be by his side. She wasn't the sort of woman who couldn't handle any sort of adversity. She had stayed under her father's roof for many years when she could have dared to do anything else but suffer the brunt of his hatred. The same held true for Frank. She had endured three years of continual hardship before she took matters into her own hands.

She would endure this, too.

Theywould endure.

As if reading her thoughts, he slid his focus to her. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest, and when he offered her a slightly crooked smile, she could feel the urgency for his kiss rising within her. It was so strong that she nearly vaulted across the carriage. In an effort to hold back her need, she took a deep breath and dared to return the warm recognition with a brief smile of her own.

He looked over at the solicitor, who was slumped to the side, his book laid against his chest as he slept. The countess appeared to be the same.

When he seemed certain that they wouldn't be overheard, he returned his focus to her and whispered, "I hope you don't believe the accusations laid against me."

Vanessa shook her head. "Of course not. They are as ridiculous now as when they were first brought about. It's obvious that Lady Ashefeld is grasping at any attempt to free herself from the gallows, no matter if she brings anyone down with her."

She could see the tension ease about his mouth. "I was more concerned you might not believe my word."

Vanessa frowned. "Why would you think that? I have never doubted your innocence."

He swallowed visibly. "Thank you. That means a lot to me. Perhaps when all this is over, you might like to return to Ireland with me."

Vanessa opened her mouth to say she would like that very much, but for some reason her throat closed up and she couldn't seem to allow the words to come forth. Confused by her reaction after she'd admitted to herself that she loved him, she forced a smile and said, "I shall certainly consider such a generous offer, my lord."

* * *

Easton yearned to know what Vanessa was thinking. Although he wanted to tell her how he truly felt about her, he knew that sitting in a crowded carriage wasn't the right time. In truth, until his name was cleared and Mr. McGavin was no longer a ghostly reminder, could he feel as though all the impediments had been removed from their path.

Her sudden hesitation just now had given him pause. Could it be that she was thinking of remaining at the Society and focusing on her art, rather than continuing their association? He would have to return to his estate at some point, and it wasn't as if he could force her to go with him, although it would rip his heart to leave her behind in England.

He supposed time would tell.

Vanessa had turned her attention back outside, so Easton decided it would be best to get some rest. He had a lot to contend with when he reached London, but he hoped that it wouldn't take him long to clear up this matter. It just depended on what sort of proof of his wrongdoings that they thought they had. He was starting to believe that the actual accuser, Mr. James Theroux, wasn't the devoted painter as he'd made it seem previously, but the only real charlatan in this masquerade.

He dozed off for a time before a rough rut in the road caused his attention to return to the interior of the carriage. His focus immediately went to Vanessa. She had decided to rest as well. It gave him the opportunity to observe her without restraint. He loved the way her strawberry-blonde hair brushed her cheek, and the smooth even breaths she took through her slightly parted lips. He yearned to move to the other side of the coach and kiss her awake.

His focus continued along the gentle curve of her neck and across her bodice. He imagined the pert breasts beneath and how he wanted to lick their taut peaks. Moving downward, he thought of running his hands down the indentation of her waist and along the feminine flare of her hips. When he reached those creamy thighs, he would spread her legs apart and bend his head and lick the center of her desire, bringing her to a breathless release that would have him thrusting his hard cock into her wet heat—

He blinked, realizing that he was growing hard just thinking of such a welcome scenario. He was sure that Lady Beauvais would not allow them to share a room, but she couldn't keep him from dreaming of the moment that they were together again. It was all he'd thought of since she had returned to the boarding house.

Determined to steer his thoughts in a safer direction, Easton focused his mind on the unfinished portrait of Vanessa instead. As soon as he was a free man once more, he intended to return to Burnham-On-Sea and finish the painting. It would be the last thing he could do for Vanessa, to show her what she looked like through his eyes. Perhaps then she might understand his devotion to her. She had started out as his muse, but she had become so much more. He knew words could ring hollow, so he was hoping his adoration could be shown by his work.

With a snort that brought him into wakefulness, Mr. Chapman stirred beside him and began to resume reading his book. Shortly thereafter, Lady Beauvais yawned and erupted in polite conversation, mostly about the weather. It was as if she didn't want to ruin their journey by talking of politics and intrigue.

Vanessa was the last one to stir. When she opened her eyes, Easton was glad to know that he was the first person that she focused on. However, it wasn't long before Lady Beauvais turned her attention to her. Easton observed their exchange about the new ladies who had made their way to the Society, but it soon grew tedious because the only woman he cared about there was with him.

When they finally stopped for a late luncheon, Easton was relieved to stretch some of the kinks out of his back and limbs. The countess's coach was well sprung, but it didn't matter when the road was uneven.

He followed Lady Beauvais, Mr. Chapman, and Vanessa into a private dining room. As they settled themselves, their food was prepared and brought out. They all ate in companionable silence, but when they were finished and the countess excused herself, either to use the necessary or to give them a bit of time to converse, Easton was grateful for the moment alone with Vanessa.

"How are you doing?" he asked gently.

She gave a light shrug. "I'm just ready for it all to be over."

Although he didn't want to bring up a subject that might cause her further discomfort, he said, "I hope you know I meant what I said earlier about Ireland."

"I understand your eagerness. I want nothing more than to go with you." she said quietly. When she lifted her blue eyes to his, he could see the hesitation there.

"But?" he prompted when she faltered.

She sighed heavily. "I'm not sure I'm ready to fall back into another commitment like that. I was just granted my freedom, and although I care for you a great deal—"

He held up a hand. He couldn't hear anymore. His heart was already bleeding inside of his chest. "It's quite all right. I understand. Just know the offer stands if you change your mind." He shoved back his chair. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll take a walk before we are shoved back inside that coach."