14. Chapter Fourteen

Damn etiquette to hell. If Evan couldn't sleep, neither would anyone else. It was well after midnight when he pounded on Charles Taylor's door. Actually, the cottage belonged to Taylor's ancient father, and also currently housed Greyson. More than likely, the houseguest had invited himself, for who would want the shite-sack sleeping beneath their roof?

Something felt off and quite suspicious. Evan didn't know Charles Taylor well, but his favorable reputation did not quite fit with his despicable associates. However, he'd ponder that enigma another time.

A droopy-lidded butler answered the door, claiming everyone was asleep. "I suggest you call tomorrow afternoon," he added.

"This is an urgent matter, so I insist you wake Greyson up," Evan said.

The butler frowned. "Sir, I beg of you, please return in the morning."

Knowing Greyson, he was probably tormenting some poor maid in a dark corner. Evan pushed aside the butler and entered the foyer.

"You do not mean to protect that piece of shite, do you? He is probably harassing someone on your staff at this very minute."

Looking as if he might burst into tears, the butler exhaled. "Please wait here while I see if I can locate Lord Greyson."

"There is no need for that, Carter." Reeking of whiskey, Mephistopheles incarnate stepped into the foyer, a flickering candle in one bandaged hand, a half-empty glass in the other, the beginnings of a wicked bruise beneath his eye. His silk banyan hung open, and his hair was mussed, creating a slovenly appearance.

"Sir." Carter, the butler, bowed in Greyson's direction. "I tried to explain to our visitor that everyone was in bed for the evening."

And yet, Greyson was awake and drinking.

Carson swallowed. "My lord, have you seen Caroline?"

Greyson huffed. "'Tis not my job to keep track of Taylor's bloody maid."

"Of course not, sir." Carter again swallowed. "I thought she might be with you. I apologize for my presumption and my error."

Needing to get on with his visit, Evan stepped into Greyson's space and met his haughty gaze. "We need to talk."

"Indeed," Greyson said, his affected sigh needling Evan's last nerve. "I suppose we can talk in the library." He motioned for Evan to follow him.

Just as Greyson reached for the door, it flew open, and a young woman in a black dress, arms wrapped around her torso, flew past them. Chuckling, Greyson eyed her lecherously.

"Miss, are you well?" Evan called to her.

She halted and slowly faced him. Quivering, she swiped at tears. "I am fine, sir." Before Evan could offer assistance, she dashed away.

The agitated woman was far from fine. And somehow, Evan knew that she had fallen victim to Greyson's perversions.

"Damn nervous chit." Greyson pushed on the door. "Always boohooing about something."

The crying woman was probably Caroline, the maid. Greyson was a shite-fuck.

"Tell me, what in God's name has you banging on Taylor's door in the middle of the night demanding to see me?" Greyson asked as he strode into the library.

Since the unfortunate woman had fled, slamming a door behind her, Evan followed Greyson and took the seat across from him. In the shadowy room, lit only by a few candles, the pale man could have been mistaken for a ghostly corpse.

"We need to discuss something man to man."

Referring to Greyson as a man was stretching it. He was more putrid than termite dung. But slinging insults would not garner the results Evan needed.

"I suppose this urgent discussion involves Lady Katrina," Greyson said in his nasally affected drawl.

How was Evan to keep his temper in check with this reprehensible beast?

He sat forward and met Greyson's gaze. "Leave her alone. Your attempts to court her are pointless. Her brothers will not allow it. The Duke of Astleyshire would ride into town and cut off your bollocks if you came within a foot of her. And Ethan Harrington's fist—believe me when I say it is lethal—will knock that smug smirk off your face.

Greyson's chuckle morphed into a full-body guffaw.

No need to wait for Harrington to knock the marquess's teeth down his throat. Evan would do it here and now.

Greyson stopped laughing to snort. "I will take my chances, Eaton. The real question is, what do you think William and Ethan will do to you when they find out you defiled their sister?"

He'd hardly defiled her. Still, he might find himself ball-less and toothless, but at least Katrina would be safe. Safe from Greyson. And safe from Evan, rake that he was. Married to a good man. A good earl who would not, and could not, love her. But that hardly mattered. Katrina Harrington would be safe.

"I want nothing more than one evening of Lady Katrina's time. That is all I am asking to keep your indiscretion a secret," Greyson declared.

Evan winced the second his newest revelation hit him. Now that he wanted to protect Katrina, Greyson had the power to blackmail him. "What is to keep you from demanding more than one evening from her?"

Greyson swirled his drink and sighed. "I'm a man of my word."

Shite! Rubbish! Balderdash! Evan should wipe that arrogant smile off the liar's face.

"Why are you so intent on spending time with a woman who despises you?" Evan asked.

"I hear she also despises you, and yet…" Greyson shrugged. "I simply want the same thing from Lady Katrina that you have already had." He smirked as he leaned close to Evan and whispered, "I'd like to shove my prick in her sweet cunny."

But Evan's prick had not been anywhere near her cunny. At least not his naked prick.

Evan leaped from his seat and stalked toward Greyson. "Say that again, and I will knock your bloody teeth down your fucking throat."

Greyson tsked. "Temper, temper, mate. "

"I am not your bloody mate," Evan said through clenched teeth.

"Who would have guessed that the Romeo of Trent village, after all of his conquests, would come to a woman's rescue?"

Evan leaned over Greyson and shoved his finger into his chest. "Not only are you a poor excuse for a gentleman and a blemish on the aristocracy, but you abuse your power with women."

For a moment, they simply stared at each other. Then, Greyson stood and growled. His glass smashed against the wall as he shoved Evan backward.

By the time Evan steadied himself, Greyson pointed a pistol at him.

Evan should have known the shite-sack carried a weapon. And he should have been more like his siblings, who kept weapons about as if they were spare coins. Not that he couldn't disarm Greyson in five seconds flat, then shoot him between his eyes.

"What in the devil is going on?" A tousled-looking Taylor entered the room.

"Our guest was just leaving," Greyson said. For a man who had over-imbibed, the marquess held the gun steady.

Evan would have insisted they meet at dawn and settle this with dueling pistols, but that would only bring attention to Katrina. He had no choice but to leave and devise a new strategy. Thinking he could reason with Greyson had been a fool's solution. However, since the marquess's jaw clenched and lips turned downward, it was evident Evan had at least rattled him and knocked the sneer from his lips.

He shot Greyson his best smart-arse grin. The same one that made Katrina Harrington glower. "Be a decent human for once in your life, Greyson. Leave Katrina alone."

"You and what army will make me?"

An army of Eatons and Harringtons, by God!

"You might want to align yourself with new acquaintances," Evan said as he passed by Taylor. "Oh, and you also require a new maid. And keep her away from that." He thumbed toward Greyson. "On second thought, wait until he leaves before you bring any women into this house."

"What the devil?" Taylor said again.

Thereupon, Evan charged down the hall in search of the crying Caroline. Anna Harrington would surely take the girl in until Greyson was locked in a cell—or fed to a school of hungry sharks.