Chapter 22

Dawn had come and promised a bright, sunny day by the time Easton made his way to McGavin's estate. He decided, upon first glance, that it was a decent house, but whenever he thought of the torment that Vanessa had been forced to endure here, he found his fists clenching. He wanted nothing more than to bring Mr. McGavin back to life, just so he could snuff it out again.

However, since he was no longer an impediment in her life, he had to be grateful for that small courtesy.

As he rode up the drive, a groom rushed out to take care of his horse. He was grateful for the initial loan from Mr. Chapman. He'd paid him a visit the evening before, and after setting out shortly before dark, he had ridden hard and fast to join Vanessa. He had so much that he wanted to tell her, the least of which was what had happened in the courtroom. The main reason for his hurry, of course, was because he wanted to see her.

He was finding it nearly impossible to think of anything else as he'd made his way to Nottingham.

He had to force himself to stop the horse and dismount properly, rather than vault off the top of its back. He made his way up the steps, where the door was promptly opened. Easton removed his gloves and held them in his grasp as he said, "I am Easton Alden, Viscount Fane, here to see Mrs. McGavin."

"Of course." The man moved to the side to allow him to enter. "Might you wait in the parlor? I will have a footman fetch her promptly."

As Easton followed him to the room in question, he asked, "Would you care for some refreshment while you wait?"

He was going to deny the offer, but then he decided that it wouldn't be amiss. "Tea, if you please. And perhaps some cucumber sandwiches."

As the man departed, Easton waited anxiously for Vanessa to join him. He turned when he heard a noise behind him, but it was a maid wheeling in the cart. Forcing himself to sit down and be patient, he poured himself some tea and popped a sandwich into his mouth. He hadn't realized how much he'd needed sustenance until he started to eat and regain some of the strength he hadn't realized he'd been missing.

By the time Vanessa appeared, he was feeling refreshed and ready to profess more than just his love.

However, one look at her red, puffy face had him bringing all his carefully laid plans to a screeching halt.

"Vanessa?" He took one step toward her, and then she was rushing into his embrace. She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest, where she promptly began to sob harder.

Once the initial shock of her reaction had passed, he held her close to him, running a hand down her back and murmuring words of comfort in her ear. After a time, she seemed to calm down. With a few sniffles, she slowly pulled back from him.

He spoke softly, not wishing to cause her any more distress. He set his hand under her chin and urged her eyes to meet his. "Better?"

She gave a light nod, and so he took her hand and led her over to the settee where he poured her a cup of steaming tea. He wasn't sure if she would be in the mood to eat, so he didn't attempt to offer her anything. "Cream or sugar?"

She shook her head. "Neither."

He had to smile because that is how he preferred it, too. But he was careful not to let too much of his amusement show.

She took a couple of bracing sips and gave a relieved sigh. "Thank you."

He inclined his head.

"I'm glad you're here." He took that as a positive sign that her upset wasn't to do with him.

Either way, she was definitely distressed. Perhaps she was merely thinking of the responsibility to come. She might have despised Mr. McGavin, but he had still been her husband. As much as Easton might not like it, there could be some emotions there that she hadn't yet faced. It was why he was here. To help her through the worst.

He had to stop himself from reaching out and touching her, even if it was just her hand. "It went exactly the way I anticipated it would go. At least, from my standpoint." He explained the chaos that had ensued after the verdict was given. "Needless to say, your reputation is safe and neither of us will have to worry about Mrs. Broadtree, Lord Devonshire, nor Mr. Theroux for a long time."

She closed her eyes in obvious relief. "I'm grateful to hear it."

After a moment, she opened her gaze and took a few more bracing sips of her tea.

"I would like to know what overset you."

Easton waited while she slowly set down her cup. When she regarded him, there was a distance in her focus that did not set well with him. "When I arrived, I was surprised to find that my chamber had not been disturbed in all the time I had been gone. It was as if the door shut behind me and was never opened again until yesterday."

She paused, as if allowing her words to register, and then she continued, "When I was in my chamber, it struck me that if Frank wanted to truly hurt me, the way he could do that wasn't to discard all my dresses. I'd never cared about fashion the way he thought I should—the way his mistress did." Her mouth twisted, but then she took a deep breath. "I thought of my paintings. He didn't approve of my art, although he'd allowed everything I'd ever done to be stored in the attic. Some of which I'd done as a child. I went there and—"

Easton couldn't hold back anymore. When her breath caught, he reached out and grasped her hand in his. Giving it a gentle squeeze, he said, "You don't have to tell me if it bothers you that much."

She shook her head. "No. I… need to do this." She paused as if to mentally brace herself. "When I walked into the attic, I saw my easel had been splintered, parts of it charred by fire. All my paints had been disrupted, spots of color all across the floor as if he'd kicked them in a rage." She curled her other hand into a fist and pressed it over her heart. "What really caused me the worst pain was the remains of my canvas prints that I found tossed into the fire. The sole thing that gave me any sort of happiness for all those years is just… destroyed. There's nothing left but a pile of ash."

He clenched his jaw to keep from uttering a string of curses at the dead bastard.

"It isn't so much the fact he was that cruel, to do something so malicious as a way of getting back at me that bothered me the most. It was that I am actually glad that he is dead." She shook her head. "What sort of person does that make me? I feel just like Frank to harbor such hatred for him, to allow my heart to grow so cold." When she looked at him this time, he saw the turmoil rushing through her blue gaze.

Easton abruptly froze. There was something in her tone that he didn't like at all. "I feel like I'm missing something."

* * *

Vanessa had been dreading this conversation since she'd gone to the attic and spent most of the night in her sitting room, staring blindly into the waning embers of the fire. When the maid had arrived with a breakfast tray, it had been ignored. It was when she had been told that Lord Fane had arrived and was asking for her, had the announcement penetrated her consciousness. How could she tell him that she wasn't sure if she was capable of the all-abiding love that he deserved? She believed that she loved him, but after feeling such horrible feelings pour through her toward Frank, she had to wonder. "If I can turn myself so hard against Frank, and my father before him, to such a degree—to be so uncaring toward someone who has lost their life—it makes me wonder if I'm truly capable of softer emotions."

Again, she felt as though fate was trying to conspire against them. Why was it so wrong to want to be happy with the one you love?

She feared what Easton might say to her, but he only kept eye contact as he replied, "That bastard got what he deserved. I feel the same as you do right now, and I didn't know the man. But I understand enough that it makes my blood boil to think of how you must have suffered here. Don't let guilt or doubt enter your mind because you are a strong woman who has a fiery passion inside of her that he could not extinguish."

Her eyes filled with fresh tears. "Passion is connected to the body. I would spend every night by your side if I could, but that doesn't mean my soul or my heart isn't damaged by all this." She released a slow exhale. "Until I can clear my mind from all the chaos that has taken root in my thoughts—" She took a shuddering breath. "—it might be best if you left."

Vanessa saw the surprise flash through his gaze. It was obvious he hadn't expected her to suggest that he leave, but until she could say without a doubt that what she wanted was to spend the rest of her life with Easton, she didn't want to hold him back any longer.

"You aren't thinking clearly, Vanessa." A muscle clenched in his jaw. "You're confused—"

"That's what I'm saying." Frustrated, both with herself and the situation she'd found herself in after all these years. She was at a crossroads. She got to her feet and paced over to the mantel before she turned back to him. Crossing her arms in front of her, she said, "Believe me, I haven't come by this decision lightly."

The viscount got to his feet, but he didn't approach her. He seemed to accept that she needed her space. "Don't do this, Vanessa. Don't let Mr. McGavin tear us apart from beyond the grave."

She wanted to say that he didn't have anything to do with her decision, but it would be a lie. But it wasn't just Frank. It was her father, too. She hadn't been able to trust any of the men in her life, and while she knew that Easton wasn't the same sort of man, the problem was that she didn't know the sort of woman she was. She had been held under an oppressive thumb for so many years that she didn't want to be the one who ruined the love between her and Easton.

"I know I have no right to ask this of you, but please, just… give me a little time. I know you are eager to return to Ireland. I will join you there."

He snorted. "Don't lie to me, Vanessa, because you're only lying to yourself."

She shut her eyes. "Easton—"

His clothes rustled as he stood. She returned her gaze to him, and she could see the struggle going on inside of him. It caused his expression to change from firm resilience to stony acceptance. "I am afraid of what it might mean for us should I leave, but I told you before that I can't deny you anything, so I will respect your wishes." Vanessa saw the hope on his face, the anticipation that she might speak out and change her mind, but as the resignation lit his face, she knew that he was going to go.

He turned on his heel and strode for the door, and she had a moment of uncertainty. "Wait." He turned back expectantly, his face a neutral mask. Her heart warred with her brain. While she wanted to rush back into his arms and beg him to stay, saying she didn't want him to leave, the single thing she could manage was a whispered apology. "I…" Say it, you coward. Tell him you love him and end this foolishness. "I'm sorry."

His mouth kicked up in the corner, although it was free of amusement. "Me too."

He continued on his way, and it wasn't until the door shut upon his departure did Vanessa sink back down onto the settee. Her whole body was trembling, but what had she expected? She'd made the choice and now she must suffer the consequences.

Lady Beauvais entered the room a few moments later, a confused expression on her brow. "Was that Lord Fane I saw leaving the house just now?"

She glanced up in misery. "Yes. It was."

The countess blinked. "Where is he going?"

Vanessa exhaled heavily. "I asked him to go."

Lady Beauvais blinked, her mouth falling open slightly. "You did what?"

With another sigh, she allowed the agony she was feeling inside to burst forth. As the countess sat down next to her, she told her what she'd found in the attic the night before. "I couldn't let him stay here and be subjected to my despair. Once I have laid Frank to rest, I will decide what to do, but right now, I'm not sure of anything."

"I know that you love the viscount. You confessed as much to me."

Vanessa closed her eyes. "With all my heart."

"Then what is the problem?"

"Me." Vanessa opened her eyes and could feel fresh tears stinging her eyes. "I'm terrified that he might confess the same emotions to me and then ask me to marry him! What if I don't know how to be a good wife to him? What if I can't? I already have one failed union at my feet. I'm not sure I could endure another."

Lady Beauvais shook her head adamantly. "Lord Fane is not Mr. Frank McGavin."

"No, but I am the same woman. What if he—" She swallowed hard. "What if I do something wrong or he grows tired of me?"

Finally, the countess understood. "Oh, my dear girl. You have suffered greatly and all that doubt has muddled your thinking. When it comes to the viscount, you don't have anything to worry about at all. The man is terribly besotted with you and would offer you everything short of the moon. I'm sure if he was capable of giving you that he would."

"I want to believe that so much," Vanessa uttered. "I know he cares for me—"

Lady Beauvais frowned as she held up a hand. "He hasn't already told you he loves you?"

Vanessa could feel something crush inside of her chest. "No."

"And you haven't told him you love him?"

"No."

The lady shook her head. "Sometimes love can be so horribly blind. After Mr. McGavin's funeral, my suggestion is to go to Lord Fane and confess everything to him. Don't shut him out or push him away. Tell him your fears and your reservations. I guarantee that he will put them all to rest and your love will be reciprocated."

"What if I've already ruined it all?"

"That isn't possible. As I said, the man would give you the world if you asked." She tilted her head to the side. "Does the viscount make you happy?"

Vanessa nodded.

"Then as I see it, that is all you need to begin."

Vanessa considered her advice, and then she realized that she had nothing more to lose, and so much more to gain. "Thank you, my lady."

She smiled. "I adore couples in love, but sometimes they can be entirely frustrating."

* * *

Two days later, Vanessa and Lady Beauvais headed back to Burnham-On-Sea.

Frank had been laid to rest, and her work was done. There was a finality to the funeral that felt as though a heavy cloak had been lifted from her shoulders.

Feeling as though she didn't need to wear black any longer for a man whom she owed no more loyalty, she donned a lavender gown, going into half mourning earlier than society might have approved. However, she wasn't in the mood to please anyone but herself any longer.

These past few days had also shown her what her life might be like without Lord Fane, and she realized that it was a rather bleak future indeed. She had been foolish to ask him to leave, but at the same time, it was probably for the best that he had. Absence had certainly made her heart grow fonder, and she didn't intend to waste any time lamenting what she had lost. Once she was face-to-face with Easton again, she was going to tell him how much she loved him.

As the countess's coach rolled into the seaside village the afternoon of the third day, it stopped in front of the Society. When Vanessa stepped to the ground, the door burst open and Miss Grantham and Miss Stratford came rushing out. They embraced her fondly and spoke of how thankful they were that everything had been settled.

"Lord Fane came by and told us everything." Miss Grantham gushed and Vanessa's heart leapt at the thought he had been there.

"Is he still here?" Vanessa asked hopefully. "Or did he already leave for Ireland?"

"I can't say if he sailed across the Channel or not," Miss Stratford said.

Miss Grantham blinked, looking confused. "But I was under the impression that—"

Her companion nudged her in the side not so subtly and immediately her mouth shut.

Vanessa found their actions rather odd, but then Miss Stratford spoke again. "We are glad to have you back with us, Mrs. McGavin." Miss Grantham said. "My, how strange that sounds to say. I daresay I enjoyed calling you Miss Carter much more."

Vanessa felt the same. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had arrived on this very step, so unsure of her reception and her very future. Rather ironic that she was feeling some of the same reservations as she had then. But with any luck, things would be much different this time.

"I miss it as well," she returned. "I am here to gather my things and bid you both farewell. For good this time, I'm afraid. I'm going to stay with the countess for a few days, and then I plan on securing passage to Ireland. I've heard it's lovely this time of year."

"I knew it!" Miss Grantham crowed proudly, as she shot Miss Stratford a glare of victory. "Another successful union is in the works, just as I predicted."

For the first time since she'd walked into that attic in Nottingham, her heart didn't stutter in her chest. In truth, the same eagerness flowed through her.

Once Vanessa had gathered her things and returned to the countess's residence, she parted ways with the lady, who headed upstairs to take a nap after the journey.

Vanessa found her way upstairs, intending to do the same, but instead, she found her steps taking her toward the art studio. She slowly moved around the room and inspected each of the pieces that she and Lord Fane had drawn together. From the first time they had painted together at the shore until the last day they had stood side by side in this room, each landscape had a certain appeal that she thought offered a detailed walk through their journey. Each piece reflected the current upheaval they had endured at the time, but most of them were bright and full of life.

She returned to the center of the room where both easels were still standing together. Vanessa's breath caught because the loss of Easton was hitting her particularly hard right then. She was surprised that he dared to leave all his work behind, but perhaps he was just eager to return home.

She found herself particularly disheartened that Lady Beauvais wouldn't have the opportunity to display their art in her gallery for the grand opening she'd planned. It was the one thing she'd hoped to achieve, and after all she'd done for Lord Fane, and herself, Vanessa regretted that they couldn't repay the favor somehow.

As she stood in front of the easel that held her painting, she considered lifting a corner of the linen and taking another peek to see if he'd finished it. But in the end, she refrained. She had felt guilty enough for looking the first time. She wanted to wait until she knew it was complete before she saw it. Looking at it now seemed like another betrayal of his trust. She had been wrong to doubt his loyalty—and his devotion.

She wouldn't do it again.

"Do you want to see it?"

Vanessa froze because she'd surely heard wrong. Her heart immediately began to pound in her ears.

Easton wasn't here. He was in Ireland.

Wasn't he?

She slowly turned around.