Chapter 20

That night, Vanessa was the one who knocked on the viscount's door. She hardly had enough time to lower her hand before the door was wrenched open and she was in his arms.

Their lovemaking was slow and unhurried, as if they both wanted to allow the night to linger as long as possible. When they finally came together in an earth-shattering release that had them both clinging to each other in damp perspiration, Vanessa closed her eyes in bliss. Not just because of the joy she'd experienced in Easton's arms again, but because everything finally seemed right in the world.

For years she'd lived on a razor's edge, fearing her father's wrath, and then that of Frank. She had never been able to fully express herself for fear of the backlash that would follow. But that wasn't true for Easton. He urged her to exhibit her passions, and he never denied her pleasure of any sort, whether it was physical or emotional.

Afterward, as they lay naked in each other's arms, Vanessa laid her head on his chest and ran her fingers lightly over the light sprinkling of hair while Easton had his arm wrapped around her and rubbed a gentle hand down her hair. Vanessa had never felt more content or safe—or dare she hope to say loved—as she did in that moment.

She wondered if she shouldn't just make the leap and tell him how she felt about him, but when she opened her mouth to do just that, he spoke at the same time.

Following a shared chuckle, she set her chin on her hand and looked at him with a teasing smile. "Go ahead."

"Ladies, first," he countered.

She lifted a brow. "I insist."

He released a breathy grumble, and she smiled. She adored these uninhibited times like this, where he could express his frustration at her stubbornness. Here, there were no prying eyes watching to see if they made a misstep in propriety. They could simply be two people who conversed on an even level.

"Very well." He sat up, and she drew the sheet with her as she did the same. Something in his expression made her concerned because he seemed so serious. He reached out and grasped her hand. "I don't know what's going to happen at court tomorrow."

She nodded because she had the feeling some sort of reply was needed.

"I'm not sure what sort of disparaging remarks they have planned, but I wanted to warn you, in case you didn't want to attend—"

"I'm going." She made sure her voice was firm. "You should know by now that words don't have the ability to wound me. They might hurt for a while, but I will not let anyone tear me down when I know what the truth is."

He regarded her steadily. "That's just it. I don't want to see you hurt at all. You mean too much to me to allow my transgressions to tear you down."

She frowned at that. "You haven't done anything wrong."

"That doesn't mean the defensive argument won't be against me every step of the way."

She squeezed his hand. "I don't care. We will face this together, just as we have done thus far." She paused. "Unless you have changed your mind about joining me for—"

He bent down and kissed her into silence. When he pulled back, he said, "No. I haven't changed my mind. But that's what I'm trying to say. You have Mr. McGavin's funeral to contend with. I don't need to be adding to your turmoil."

"You have added to my happiness," she whispered. "The people who have added to our turmoil will soon be set to rights. I have no doubt that Lady Beauvais has enlisted the help of an honorable barrister, a man who is fair and just."

He set his forehead against hers and exhaled slowly. "How did I get so fortunate to have found you?"

When he pulled back, she offered him a broad smile. "Don't you remember? It was divine providence. I am still your muse, am I not?"

He reached up and touched his thumb to her bottom lip. Immediately, the air changed, charging with awareness. "You are so much more than that."

* * *

Easton's cock hardened at the desire he saw in Vanessa's blue eyes. He wondered if this insatiable hunger for her would ever dissipate. He prayed it did not and was rather confident that it wouldn't.

Bending down to capture her lips, his chest swelled with a mixture of pride and heart stopping devotion. When the sheet slipped from her grasp and bared her upper body, he reached out and brushed his thumbs along the hardened peaks of her glorious breasts.

As he laid her back on the bed and covered her body with kisses, licking and sucking a path to her core, Easton realized that as much as painting had always been a part of his life, there was nothing to compare to Vanessa's blank canvas. She was perfection, and as she climaxed beneath his tongue, the tremors of her release taunted him. His cock was eager to join with her, and as he slid into her for the second time that night, it seemed different from before. He wasn't sure how to explain it, but there was a definite change as he thrust in and out of her.

When he spilled himself inside of her, his eyes rolled back in his head and he gritted his teeth as the ecstasy rolled over his body. He could see spots dancing behind his closed lids, and he feared he might actually black out from the force of his release.

He fell to the bed beside Vanessa, and he could tell by the glazed expression on her face that she had felt the impact of their lovemaking as well. He wanted to say it was the connection of their souls uniting, but with the uncertainty of tomorrow hanging over his head, he didn't want to assume anything more permanent.

He yearned to bring her back against his chest and spend the night wrapped together, but he heard her sigh right before she got up and shoved her arms back in her robe. Before she left, she turned back to him. "All will be well tomorrow. I promise."

Easton wished he had her confidence. He wouldn't rest easy until it was all behind him. He said nothing but took her hand and kissed the knuckles. "Sleep well."

"I shall," she replied with a smile.

When she departed, Easton lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. Not because he was weary, but because he wanted the time he'd spent with Vanessa to linger. He could still smell the faint fragrance of her bathwater on the pillow next to him, could still see the image of her long, fiery hair spread out over the linen.

He clenched his fists and prayed that good news would prevail the following day.

At some point, he must have slept because he awoke to the servants stirring about. Thank goodness he had the sheet draped over his naked midsection, or the maid who entered to tend to the fire would have glimpsed more than she bargained for.

When she left, he got up and bathed. He removed the razor from his effects and carefully slid the blade along his jaw. He had long eschewed the assistance of a valet and had accustomed himself to taking care of shaving on his own. His clothes had been pressed, and he was able to dress in buff trousers, blue-and-gold threaded waistcoat, and tie a crisp, neat cravat over his cambric shirt. The last things he donned were his boots and superfine jacket.

Ensuring that he looked his best, that he embodied a peer of the realm, he headed downstairs to break his fast.

Lady Beauvais was already there, and with her dark hair threaded with silver and attired in a dark plum gown, she looked pristine.

He had just greeted her and made his way to the sideboard when Vanessa entered the room. Although she was dressed in black, her hair was quite fetching in an elegant chignon and pearls graced her neck and ears.

"You are resplendent, my dear," the countess noted, and Easton would have to agree. She looked positively radiant. He dared to hope that he might be part of the cause.

She walked over to him and gave him a shy sort of smile. "Good morning, Lord Fane."

"Vanessa." He kept his tone low and intimate, and he saw her lips part as if in invitation. He couldn't help but grin. He shouldn't like to discomfit her as he did, but he rather enjoyed it.

They sat down together, and by the time they finished, the butler announced the arrival of Mr. Chapman and Mr. Jeremiah Hargrove. They retreated to the parlor where Lady Beauvais greeted the solicitor but offered a decidedly more intimate greeting to the barrister.

"How lovely to see you again, my lady," the middle-aged man said with a grin. He wore a white wig that was slightly out of fashion and round spectacles. He was of average height and size, but Easton took note of the way his eyes twinkled as they lit upon the countess. It appeared they had met before, explaining why he was so considerate as to arrive in person before the trial.

"I'm pleased you are the man defending Lord Fane," she stated. "I have no doubt that this matter shall be settled promptly."

"We shall hope," he returned with a polite incline of his head. At this point, he turned his attention to Easton. "I trust you don't mind if I confirm a few things, my lord?"

"Not at all," Easton said evenly. "As I've said all along, I have nothing to hide."

The two men settled themselves on the settee while Mr. Chapman, Lady Beauvais, and Vanessa took chairs nearby.

* * *

As the inquisition began, Vanessa listened intently. She waited for her name to be mentioned, but thus far, any questions that Mr. Hargrove had for Easton were strictly related to his work as a painter.

"Are there any identifying marks on your painting that might set it apart from another?"

"Yes, actually." Easton nodded. "I sign all my prints and note the date on the inside of the frame before it is sold. Unless it was tampered with, there should be no question that the original Well of Spring is mine and Mr. Theroux's holds the copy."

"Very good." The barrister made a few notes in a journal. "I thought you were intelligent enough to safeguard yourself in this manner, but either way, I have secured an expert's advice to ascertain the authenticity of both pieces." He paused, and that's when he asked the question Vanessa had been wondering about. "Is there anything that might draw your character into question?"

Easton denied any claim, but Vanessa couldn't allow him to remain silent and threaten his chance at freedom just to safeguard her reputation. "I would have to interject, Mr. Hargrove."

Easton's gaze shot to her, but she ignored him as she continued speaking, "Lord Fane and I spent quite a bit of time together in Burnham-On-Sea. As a fellow artist myself, I was assisting him with his painting. I have no doubt that Lady Ashefeld will use whatever necessary to draw the viscount into a poor light, so I think it's imperative to say that Frank McGavin was also my late husband."

After her revelation, she noticed that Easton seemed to breathe a bit easier. As if she would readily admit that they were lovers. She wasn't that eager to ruin her own character, although the information she provided might lead everyone to that conclusion as it is.

"Indeed, that might be very pertinent information," Mr. Hargrove noted in a somber tone. "We must inspect each avenue, as that is what will surely happen in that courtroom today. I have requested we invoke the privilege of peerage, so you will be judged with those of a similar mind, Lord Fane. Your title alone should ease some of the accusations, and we might consider the possibility of adding charges regarding slander. With the written testimonies we have against Lady Ashefeld, it certainly doesn't look very good for the accusers at the moment."

Vanessa frowned. "What letters?"

The countess was the one who responded. "Why, Miss Grantham and Miss Stratford, of course. They were quite overset when they discovered that she was the owner of Mike's, that infamous gaming hell that became a threat to the entire town. I have also pleaded with the Crown to take her past crimes into consideration. There is no reason not to believe that Mrs. Broadtree and the rest of her companions aren't just as tainted."

For a moment, Vanessa couldn't speak. She was impressed by the level of support that she and Lord Fane were gaining. It certainly gave her faith that everything would turn out as it should.

"When are we due to meet at the courthouse?" Easton asked.

Mr. Hargrove consulted with his pocket watch. "At two, nearly four hours from now."

"Good." The countess nodded. "That should give us plenty of time to prepare." As she stood, Vanessa and the rest of the occupants did the same. "I shall make my way to Carlton House and plead my case once more to the Crown. I will return shortly." Her parting words weren't phrased as a question, but rather a noted departure.

Mr. Hargrove nodded to Mr. Chapman. "It's time we were on our way as well. I would like to go over everything one last time to make sure there aren't any errors in our argument." He looked at Lord Fane. "My lord, if you wouldn't mind joining us? We might speak more openly in my office." He slid a glance at Vanessa that might have been coy, but she saw it for what it was—a suggestion that they didn't involve a woman in their business dealings, and most especially a widow. His next words confirmed her suspicions. "Mrs. McGavin, we will, of course, apprise you of the court's decision—"

The viscount walked over and put his arm around her waist in a manner that could only be interpreted in one way. "I was expecting her to be there."

Mr. Hargrove's brow deepened as he glanced pointedly at the show of possessiveness. "I'm not sure that's a wise decision, Lord Fane. If we are to keep you—and Mrs. McGavin—free from any sort of smear upon your characters, I strongly suggest that she remain here." He softened his tone slightly as he regarded her. "No offense, ma'am, but we shouldn't want anyone to get the wrong impression about your… relationship. At least until all this is settled."

Vanessa could feel Easton's grip tighten slightly about her waist, but before he could reply to the barrister and make things even worse on himself, she intervened. "Gentlemen, do you mind if I have a word with Lord Fane in private for a moment?"

Mr. Hargrove inclined his head. "Of course." He glanced at Mr. Chapman who moved to her. "Good luck, Mrs. McGavin." She murmured a reply and then, after a slight smile and a nod to the viscount, he followed the barrister out of the parlor.

Once they were gone, Easton moved around to face her. He set his hands on her shoulders and said, "Why did you give in like that? I have the courage to fight for you. For us."

She exhaled in a heavy sigh. "Surely you can see that Mr. Hargrove is correct in this instance. We must be discreet. If we go into that courtroom together, it will reflect poorly upon both of us. I should have thought of that before, but you have a way of convincing me to do things against my better judgment."

His eyes softened slightly, although she could see a muscle tick in his jaw. "I want to disagree with you, but I know that you're right." He shoved a hand through his hair and pivoted away from her. When he turned back to face her, her heart fluttered at the torment shining in his gaze. "I pray that this nightmare will be over today, so that we can move on with our lives. Once Mr. McGavin is at rest, perhaps we might have the chance."

She lifted up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, but just when things were starting to get interesting, she knew she had to release him. Pulling back, she adopted a somber mien. "I think I should go ahead and head for Nottingham." She paused and then added, "Today."

He frowned at her. "You won't wait to see what the verdict is?"

She walked toward him and laid a gentle hand on his smooth cheek, free of the slight abrasion of his bristles. "I have no doubt that you will be successful. I would have loved nothing more than to be with you, but since that isn't an option any longer, I feel this is the best time to go to Frank's estate. I know that I won't have to worry about Mrs. Broadtree making an unwanted appearance and making trouble for me."

She could feel the flex of his jaw beneath her hand and her heart ached for him. "I don't want to say you're right, but I know you are." He set his forehead against hers. "I'll join you as soon as I am able."

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "You need to go."

"I know." He stepped back, and with one last glance at her, he walked out the door.

Vanessa sank onto the settee and closed her eyes as the front door shut, leaving her in strained silence.

She got up and began to pace the parlor. She wasn't entirely sure what to expect when she arrived at Nottingham. Would Frank's heir already be there to claim the property? The idea was particularly unsettling. It wasn't as if she planned to ask for anything in the house. It was just a shell that had kept her free of the elements when she'd been there and nothing more. It certainly hadn't been a home.

Of course, there was still the matter of the burial. Once it was complete, she could leave without a backward glance.

Moving to the nearby desk, she sat down and removed a sheet of paper. Dipping the quill into the inkwell, she set the pen to the vellum. After writing a short missive to be delivered to notify Frank's staff of her impending arrival, she rang for a servant to deliver it.

She continued to bide her time in the parlor until she heard the front door shut. She made her way into the foyer where Lady Beauvais had just arrived.

The lady glanced curiously at Vanessa. "What are you doing here? I thought you might have joined Lord Fane."

"Mr. Hargrove thought it was best if I remained behind. He said it might be easier to attack Easton should I be there."

The countess considered that and then gave a reluctant nod. "I suppose he is right. And there is no need to give the gossips any more fodder."

As the lady started to head upstairs, Vanessa spoke up. "I told Lord Fane that I planned to go to Nottingham before he returned."

With a pause, the countess looked at her curiously. "You don't want to stay and discover the court's decision?"

A sensation of extreme weariness passed over her. "I just want it to be over."

Lady Beauvais nodded. "Very well. I will be ready to depart within the hour."

Vanessa inclined her head. "Thank you."

* * *

Once Easton left the townhouse, he had a sinking feeling in the center of his stomach. He didn't like leaving Vanessa when he hadn't had a chance to tell her how he'd felt. He had been close to spilling his innermost thoughts in the parlor just now, but he'd refrained, because it wasn't the most romantic time. And he didn't want to have the threat of impending doom hanging over his head. He intended to hold her in his arms and make a grand gesture, the sort that she had been denied all these years.

He wasn't going to rush things because she was worth waiting for.

Easton moved around restlessly until Mr. Hargrove shot him a stern glance. He immediately stilled, as if he was still a child and properly chastised.

Unfortunately, the unease that had plagued him all morning refused to abate. It didn't matter when his accusers entered the courtroom full of his glowering peers. They likely didn't take too kindly to being disturbed, most still enjoying the comfort of their country estates to avoid the heat of the summer. Easton wanted to snort. He'd never been able to abide English aristocrats who preferred to spend their time in the staid company of other men when they had a family at home. Easton had spent most of his life yearning for the close connections he'd been denied. He knew that he'd had to take on the role of master of the estate when he'd been young, and he'd always resented the fact because it had ripped him of the freedoms that most boys his age in the village had enjoyed. He'd vowed that his children would know that they were loved. He intended to find a woman who would be kind and gentle, who shared the same sentiments as he did.

For years, he'd looked for someone with no luck, thinking that perhaps he wasn't meant to procreate and keep the line going at all.

And then a miracle had occurred.

He had been as low as he could possibly imagine, the one bright light of hope in his world had been ripped away. His muse had decided to pack her bags and leave him with no inspiration. He'd been lost, desperate to find some sort of salvation. Little had he known that he would find everything he'd ever wanted in Burnham-On-Sea. He was grateful that his sister had suggested he make the journey. Aline had mentioned how despondent he was becoming, so visiting his cousin, the Earl of Stanton, had seemed like the perfect solution.

In the end, it was Vanessa that had changed him for the better.

"Lord Fane?"

He snapped to attention when the barrister addressed him. He motioned toward the entrance where a royal messenger had entered the room. He made his way over to them and handed an envelope to Mr. Hargrove. Easton noted that it had the Royal Seal pressed upon it.

"In case things don't go as they should," the barrister noted. "Lady Beauvais told me that she convinced the Prince Regent to give us an extension. But it is a last resort."

As the judge presiding over the case rose slightly to gain everyone's attention, he glanced at the accusers. "Shall we present the evidence against Lord Fane?"

As a brightly colored dandy got to his feet and brought forth a framed painting, he announced his name as Mr. James Theroux. Easton tried to imagine him as the same man he'd tutored for a brief time all those years ago, but there was nothing familiar about him at all. In truth, he wondered if this man wasn't an actor hired by Mrs. Broadtree on behalf of her sister to see Easton swing instead of Lady Ashefeld.

As another print was brought forth out of the frame and unrolled before the jury of English peerage, there was a hushed murmur that went about the room. There was no doubt that the two paintings had a remarkable resemblance to one another.

The judge made a call for order, and then he looked to Mr. Hargrove. "What can you bring forth as a defense?"

The barrister rose and presented a reasonable defensive argument. He explained everything that Easton had told him, and although he was convincing to most of the occupants in the room, the opposing side was offering no quarter. Lord Devonshire was asked to take to the stand, and when he started to tear down Easton's character, he could feel his fists start to clench beneath the table. Who was this man to speak so crassly of him when they had never met before?

And yet, when he glanced at Mrs. Broadtree, he couldn't help but understand why. He had to admit that the woman was handsome, with her light-blonde hair and green eyes, but it was the malicious glint that appeared when their eyes met that made it all perfectly clear.

As her lover criticized Easton, the slightly paunchy, bewigged baron turned his focus upon him. "It would seem to me that the only criminal present today is Lord Fane. He is guilty of more offenses that I can count. We aren't here just because of a fraudulent painting, but his arrival in Burnham-On-Sea coincidentally ended with Lady Ashefeld's senseless imprisonment, the beloved sister of Mrs. Broadtree." He lifted a brow, and Easton held his breath. "And let's not forget the rumors that he has been consorting with a respected magistrate's widow long before his death!"

This time, the ripple that passed through the crowd was almost deafening. Easton could see the smug satisfaction on the baron's face as he joined his lover.

Of all the hypocrites…

"Let me take the stand," he snapped to Mr. Hargrove.

The barrister glanced at him, folding his hands on the desk in front of him. "Are you sure that's wise? If you allow your emotions to gain the better of you, it doesn't matter what you might present as evidence. Your name still has the possibility of being besmirched."

"I will not accept any sort of slander against Vanessa," he noted firmly. "I will protect her at all costs, should it mean that I am judged for it."

Mr. Hargrove hesitated a moment more, and then he released a heavy breath. "As you would have it, Lord Fane. We still have Lady Beauvais's letter should things take a decidedly dark turn." He eyed him steadily. "And I cannot promise that it won't."

"I can handle myself," Easton returned. "I am not a simpleton. I have ensured that my work has been protected." He glared at Lord Devonshire. "By the time this day is over, they will be the ones looking like fools."