Chapter 8

Vanessa appreciated the viscount's loyalty. She wasn't quite sure of the reasons for which she'd earned it, but she knew she couldn't let him take the blame for her. She couldn't allow him to get involved with a battle that didn't concern him. But his kindness warmed her heart like nothing else had. She reached out and touched his cheek, enjoying the slightly rough bristles beneath her palm. "You are a good man, Lord Fane. Because of this, you will understand why I can't be seen with you any longer. It's much too dangerous. If you were to be around me when I'm found, you would be guilty by association. I wouldn't put it past Frank to accuse you of being my lover."

"You think I care about idle gossip?" he demanded. "McGavin may have power as a magistrate, but he cannot compete with me. I might not have the full authority of the Church of England behind me as an Irish Catholic, but I have my cousin, the Earl of Stanton, and I am still a peer. That will account for more when it comes to gaining what I want, I can assure you." He got to his feet. "I will make preparations for us to leave immediately."

He started to head for the door, but Vanessa rushed after him. "Are you mad? It is still going to be impossible to take on a man like Frank. You don't know what he is capable of—"

This time he reached out and put his hand on her cheek. "But you don't know what I am capable of either. I am not afraid of someone like McGavin. He is a bully, and I have never taken too kindly to his sort. I will free you from this farce of a marriage. Trust me." He hesitated, his gaze dropping to her lips. He bent down and kissed her swiftly, and then he left the room.

While Vanessa was still trying to get over his abrupt departure, she was reeling from the fact that the viscount had kissed her. It might have been brief, but it was enough to make her curious for more. She touched her fingers to her lips, but then she shook her head, breaking the trance he'd placed over her.

She had never imagined that there was a remote possibility where she could be free of Frank, but what if Lord Fane was right? What if he had the power to make it happen?

She began to pace the floor.

Vanessa had heard of only a handful of successful divorces, and they generally took years to accomplish. She supposed, if she could convince Frank to embark on a separation, that would be something. At least she wouldn't have to remain in hiding and still be out from under his thumb. The problem was that she didn't think he would agree to either circumstance, and she couldn't force his hand. If Lord Fane pressured him to do anything, her husband's wrath would eventually fall on the viscount. He wouldn't have to worry about retaining his new creativity because no one in England, or as far as the continent, would dare to show any of his paintings if they were thus tainted by his damaged reputation.

She shook her head. She couldn't allow Lord Fane to give up everything for her. She wasn't worth such a drastic error. He might be grateful to her, and considering the kiss he'd given her, be slightly besotted with her, but she couldn't allow him to lose everything on her behalf.

Vanessa knew it was time to leave. She headed downstairs, grateful that she didn't run into the viscount on her way out. When the front door opened, she froze, but when she spied Clavely entering with their bags of art supplies, she moved forward. "Thank you for your kind assistance," she noted. "I'll take my things, as I should be returning to the boarding house."

He inclined his head, and she quickly made her way outside.

She held her breath all the way to the Society, glancing back over her shoulder more than once, fearing that Lord Fane would be running after her and begging her to return.

When she walked inside, she spied Miss Stratford and relief flooded her face. "Miss Stratford!" She rushed over and grasped the woman's arm with her free hand. "If Lord Fane should come calling, please tell him I'm out."

The woman's green eyes widened in alarm. "Has something happened?"

Vanessa fought the bile that rose in the back of her throat. "More than you know, but do not blame the viscount. He is without blame. I am the miserable liar you've welcomed into your home."

As tears stung her eyes, Miss Stratford's face gentled. "Oh, my dear, you could never be so terrible—"

Vanessa shook her head. "That's because you don't know everything."

The lady regarded her for a moment more and then nodded. "It seems that we need to have a talk." There was a brisk knock at the front door, and Vanessa's heart leapt into her throat. Miss Stratford waved her upstairs. "Go to your chamber. I will deal with the viscount."

Vanessa rushed upstairs and shut and locked her door. She wrapped her arms around her waist and paced for what might have been minutes, or perhaps hours, before there was a light knock. "It's Josephine and Alexandria," Miss Stratford said from the other side.

She blew out a breath and then walked over and unlocked the door before admitting the two proprietresses inside. They took a seat on her cot and exchanged a worried glance before Miss Grantham patted her neatly pinned, graying brown hair and looked at her with empathetic brown eyes. "Lord Fane seemed terribly overset that you had left his residence so abruptly. Is there something amiss between the two of you? I thought you were getting on so well."

"We are—we were," Vanessa quickly corrected. "He is a good man, and I had a pleasant time joining him to paint every day, but—" How did she say it? Closing her eyes, she pushed the words forth. "I will need to find new lodgings as soon as possible."

Miss Stratford looked almost overset. "Are you not happy here?"

"I am very fortunate to have had the opportunity to come to the Society, but I joined under a pretense. I am not Miss Carter." She swallowed hard and dared to add, "My name is Mrs. Vanessa McGavin."

At the sound of her marital status, Miss Grantham's brows rose. "I see."

"I never meant to mislead you—" Vanessa stopped herself. "I never meant to cause any harm, but I was desperate. My husband, Frank, is the magistrate in Nottingham, but he's a cruel man. Our union was not a happy one."

"That is unfortunate," Miss Stratford murmured. "I wish I could say you were alone in marriages that end poorly, but you would not be the first to suffer from a man's strict hand."

"Undoubtedly not," Vanessa agreed. "I understand that my situation does not condone my actions, and because the Seaside Society is a safe haven for spinsters, women who are hoping to live independently, I don't wish to cast a stain upon the front door should word get out that I am a married woman who left her husband. The gossip would assume that you were harboring me. It wouldn't look good for the future of the establishment. Recently, I have been noticing a man lurking about. Although I haven't seen him for a few days, something tells me he hasn't gone away."

The two women exchanged another speaking look. Miss Grantham sighed heavily. "I would like to disagree with you, but I am afraid you are right." She held up a hand. "But since I don't want you to be forced into another unsavory position, I think I can find a solution that would work for all of us. At least, until we can think of something else."

Vanessa walked over and knelt in front of both of them. "I'm so very sorry for doing this to you both since you have been so kind."

Miss Stratford's green eyes shone with determination. "The Society isn't just a haven for spinsters, but for all women who have suffered the brunt of defeat. We will figure something out." She patted Vanessa's hand, and although she was grateful for their support, mostly Vanessa was thankful that they weren't angry with her.

Nevertheless, she had to wonder if anything could save her now.

* * *

Easton went to the boarding house the next day and decided that he wouldn't leave until Vanessa listened to what he had to say. He'd left her alone just long enough to pen a letter to his contact in London to return to find the room empty.

He'd immediately set out for the boarding house but was told that she hadn't yet returned. While he hadn't believed that for a moment, he wasn't the type to call a woman a liar when he knew she was only doing it on the behest of Miss Carter—Mrs. McGavin.

It still hadn't fully sunk into his brain that Vanessa was a married woman. When she'd told him, he hadn't wanted to allow it to penetrate his consciousness. After all these years, he'd finally found a woman he could actually consider taking back to Ireland, where they would spend their days side by side, painting in harmony. It had been the perfect scenario.

He should have known it was too good to be true.

Nevertheless, he counted Vanessa as a friend, if nothing more, and he wanted to help her in any way possible. He certainly couldn't abide the thought of her returning to a man who beat her into submission. He would abscond with her before that occurred, suffering whatever consequences God and the law decided to condemn him with. It would be worth it to know that she was safe from such an evil monster.

He had already made it his personal mission to destroy the man. McGavin would understand that the respect he'd denied his wife would be visited upon him with all the wrath that Easton could muster.

But first, he had to convince Vanessa to trust in him, to dare to give him the chance to go to war on her behalf. He knew she was too proud to accept it, but he wouldn't stop doing whatever it took to save her.

"Lord Fane."

He glanced up to see Miss Stratford walking toward him. She was still a handsome woman with her faded red hair and green eyes that bespoke of a youth that was still evident although the years had started to make their mark. "Good day." He bowed his head. Seeing that the niceties were taken care of, he asked, "I'm here to see Vanessa." He wasn't sure if she had told the patronesses about her true identity, so he didn't want to be the one who mentioned her secret first.

She folded her hands in front of her. "She isn't here."

Easton told himself not to lose patience. "I realize that she might not want to see me, but I can assure you, it is only with the intent to help that I am so determined to speak to her."

She offered a slight smile. "I am not telling you a mistruth, my lord. Yesterday, perhaps I did speak a small white lie until I gained the understanding of the situation. Now that Miss Grantham and I are aware of Vanessa's… situation, she decided it would be best if she didn't remain at the Society."

Easton was starting to panic now. "Where did she go?"

Rather than reply immediately, she pursed her lips together. "If I tell you, you must promise me that you won't make yourself a nuisance. Vanessa is very vulnerable right now, and she is doing what she believes to be the best for all involved."

He put a hand over his heart. "You have my word. I just want to know that she's safe."

Miss Stratford regarded him steadily for a moment, and then she must have come to some sort of decision, because she inclined her head. "She is staying with Eloise Fontaine, Countess Beauvais. It was the best outcome for all involved. At least, for now. I cannot tell what the future might hold for her."

"If I have my way of it, much better than her previous existence."

She tilted her head to the side. "I am glad that she has such a champion in you. No doubt she will be able to make a fresh start once this business has reached its conclusion, but it might be a difficult road to traverse until then. For both of you."

"I didn't expect it to be easy, but I'm willing to do what it takes." He inclined his head. "Thank you for your candor, Miss Stratford."

As Easton left the Society, he realized that he would have to do some serious pondering in the days to come. He would either have to renew the lease on the townhouse and remain for the autumn months, or he would have to return to Ireland. At the moment, the latter wasn't an option. He would feel as if he was abandoning Vanessa to her fate when he had vowed to do what was necessary to keep her out of McGavin's reach. He fully intended to do just that, but he wasn't ignorant of the time and money it would take to obtain a divorce, and that was if they had the approval of the husband, and something told Easton that wouldn't be easy to acquire.

He shoved a hand through his hair and set out for the strand, taking a long walk in order to think of his next move. He'd already requested more information on Mr. McGavin, but he was trying to ferret out the best way to protect Vanessa.

He happened to glance up, and he abruptly froze when he saw the mysterious figure who had been giving him cause for concern. "Hey! You there!" He shouted at the man and started to increase his pace. He bolted when he saw the stranger turn around and mix in with the rest of the crowd out for a morning promenade.

Easton took off running. If anyone could give him any answers, he had no doubt this man possessed what he required.

* * *

"Are you quite well?" Lady Beauvais's kind query broke through Vanessa's current reverie where they sat together in the lavish parlor. "You've hardly touched your tea."

"I'm as well as can be expected, I suppose," she noted truthfully. She took an obedient sip and was grateful for the soothing relief it provided. This was her first morning with the countess and she was still feeling a bit at odds. "Thank you for taking me in after learning the truth."

The lady waved a dismissive hand. "Think nothing of the matter. I am willing to help any woman in need, married or not. Sometimes they are the ones who require the most assistance in an unforgiving man's world."

Vanessa's mouth twisted ruefully. "You make a fair point."

"Indeed, I do." She sniffed determinedly. Vanessa had to smile because the Society's benefactor was perfectly French at times. Her accent certainly got thicker when she needed it to do so. It was both eloquent and firm at the same time. It was no wonder she was a particular favorite of the Prince Regent. She'd made her way to Burnham-On-Sea, a widow of a French comte who had been an English sympathizer, after his heir had cast her out of her home in Paris. But their loss was England's gain, as she had been instrumental in helping to grow the seaside town into what it was today, and she'd brought her French influences with her. More than that, was that she was a strong advocate for more rights for women.

Vanessa just knew her as a friend, and one of her largest clients. The lady had purchased at least five of her paintings, and she had no doubt that the upcoming art gallery was to showcase her work even further. Unfortunately, that would have to wait.

As if able to read Vanessa's thoughts, Lady Beauvais said, "My biggest regret in all this is that your fine pieces will not be shown as soon as I'd hoped. The gallery is nearing completion. It was to be one of the last big reveals of the summer." She released a heavy sigh. "I shall have to think of something else to end the season in style." She tapped a nail against her red lips. "Perhaps a hot-air balloon?"

"That sounds wonderful," Vanessa agreed. "Certainly, something unique."

"But has Brighton done it before? Or Bath? That is our major competition, you know."

"I'm sure if they have, it won't be nearly so grand as what Burnham-On-Sea can provide with your direct supervision."

The lady pointed at her. "You are quite right. I must begin the preparations. Summer is nearly at a close. We must do something to be remembered to bring even more visitors to our shores next season." She got to her feet and presumably headed for her personal quarters, where she would begin drafting letters to prospective entertainers. Vanessa had no doubt her extravaganza would be nothing short of Vauxhall in London.

When her hostess left, Vanessa abandoned her tea and walked over to the window overlooking the expansive gardens. Outside, the sun was shining brightly, and the neatly manicured lawn was green and healthy from the latest rain.

Although she admired the scenery, it was Lord Fane who was uppermost in her mind. She wondered if he was terribly upset with her for leaving so abruptly. Not only was she concerned that he might embroil himself in a disaster that was not of his making, but she had also run from her growing feelings toward him. He was starting to become much more than a simple acquaintance. His likeness in more than one of her paintings was evidence enough of that.

Once all her pieces had been moved to the countess' quarters and a makeshift art room had been set up with Vanessa in mind, she told herself that she needed to get to work. But between the thought of Frank showing up at any time, or the mystery man she believed he'd hired to find her, swirling through her mind, she wasn't sure she could find the appropriate inspiration to create anything on canvas that wouldn't be dark or melancholy.

Then again, perhaps that was what she needed to do to get back on the right track.

She headed up the stairs to the second floor, gathered her supplies, and set a blank canvas on the easel. Lady Beauvais always ensured that she was never without the proper materials. It had been one of the things she'd insisted upon once she'd learned of her talent.

Starting with white and a touch of gray, she mixed the watercolors on her wooden palette until she'd created the mixture she'd wanted—it wasn't black, but more of a smoky ash, like heavy clouds on a stormy day.

She poised her brush in the air, but before she touched the canvas, she thought of Lord Fane and how her heart ached to see him. She dreamed of how nice it would have been to run away to Ireland, pretend that she truly was simply Miss Carter. She yearned for it with all her being, and when she finally allowed her brush to create the deepest desires of her heart, it was as if her movements created their own harmony.