15. Chapter Fifteen

The sunny rays peeking through the window filled the day with promise, and the wind blowing the curtain about infused Kat with vigor. Careful not to wake Beth, she wriggled into her stays. The loose bindings would have to do. She donned her favorite summer day dress, tied her hair back with a lavender ribbon that matched the lilacs in her frock, slid into gloves, and then chose a delicate pair of slippers and a silk bonnet resplendent with purple flowers. She slipped from her chamber, gently pulling the door closed behind her.

When she entered the breakfast parlor, a half-dozen early-rising guests dined on sausage and egg pie, fresh berries, and coffee. From her seat in front of the bay window, she watched the seagulls swooping and rising, drawing erratic patterns in the breeze as she picked at the food on her plate. Although it was delicious, she was much too excited to eat. Mostly because she meant to seek out Evan and explore this potent chemistry between them. It should be easy enough to find him. She'd simply arrive on her brother's doorstep. He'd still be in bed with Anna. Stars, the two of them spent a lot of time kissing.

She'd tell the butler she left something in the library, and she needed to retrieve it, and then take a wrong turn—one that would take her directly past Evan's room. Never mind that she'd grown up visiting Yardley Manor. She would feign being a silly, forgetful miss.

"Oops. I seem to be lost," she'd say in case anyone bore witness. "Maybe someone could help me." She'd lightly tap on his door. When he answered, she'd feign confusion. And once she ensured no one was watching, and he invited her in, she'd tell him she planned to break off her courtship with Alexander. Poor, sweet Alexander. The kindest man of her acquaintance, with his compassionate eyes, genuine smile, and gentle nature. She was a fool to pass up such a grand husband. But she could not ask Evan to kiss her until she was honest with Alexander. And she needed Evan to kiss her, preferably with his delicious tongue.

She sipped at her coffee, then smiled. Yes, just this once—make that her sixth or seventh time since arriving in Brighton—she would behave like Elizabeth Fletcher.

Kat entered her brother's home, her shoulders pulled back confidently. However, the moment the butler greeted her, her excitement from earlier morphed into trepidation. She smiled at the head housekeeper and a chambermaid.

"I will be but a moment in the library. I forgot something there," she called over her shoulder as she ascended the grand staircase.

She snorted as she climbed. Oh, how her opinion had changed. Just a few days ago, she'd disliked Evan with every ounce of her being. Unless he'd been addling and confusing her forever, and she'd fancied him since they were children? The more time she spent with him, the more likely this notion seemed.

Once she reached the second floor, she peered about the hallway to ensure no one watched. Thank the heavens above. She was alone.

She raced to Evan's room. Ignoring her original plan, she forwent knocking, opened the door, barged in, and gasped.

A maid, her long, unbound hair the color of fire, was sprawled across his mattress. She abruptly sat, dangled her feet over the side of the bed, then gaped at Kat. "My, lady?" she muttered, her cheeks the same color as her hair.

So much for pursuing Evan Eaton since the fool had been engaged in amorous congress with one of Ethan's staff. Kat should run from the room, but her legs refused to move.

The maid folded her hands into a prayer position. "Please don't tell anyone. Lord and Lady Harrington have been so good to me. And please don't tell Master Evan. I just wanted to look at these." She held up a book.

Don't tell Master Evan?Did that mean he did not know this beautiful woman was in his chamber, on his bed, rummaging through his things?

"He's so talented. My lady, he has perfectly created your likeness." The woman opened the book to display a black-and-white sketch.

Kat stepped closer. Her image stared back at her. The pearls around her neck and the intricate braids and loops of her hair had been captured in stunning detail.

"Lord Wellspring is painting my portrait," Kat said, although it was not any of this woman's concern. Still, she blurted, "He is quite talented. I believe that is one of his drawings."

"But this is by Master Evan. See." Still sitting on the edge of the bed, the woman pointed to a fancy double E in the corner of the paper.

Kat grasped the book and held it closer to her eyes. It was definitely an EE, but it made no sense. Was there someone else with the same initials staying in Evan's room? "Bah."

The maid sniffled as she swiped at her tears. "I just fancy him so much. But I think he fancies you. Probably because you are a real lady and so beautiful."

This impertinent maid needed to be put in her place. However, Kat was too confused to reprimand her.

"Who fancies me?" Please let her say Evan Eaton.

The maid gawked at Kat as if she belonged in Bedlam. "Master Evan. He drew a million pictures of you. And it isn't fair because you are courting Lord Wellspring."

A million pictures? Surely, the maid was mistaken.

"I do not understand."

"I wish he would sketch me." The scarlet-haired siren wrung her hands together and wailed as if mourning a deceased mate. "What if he draws her?"

This blasted woman was the worst communicator—and maid—in all of England.

"Who are you talking about?"

"The new maid he brought home last night."

"Who brought a maid home last night?" And what blasted maid?

"Master Evan. He came home late and had another maid with him. What if they replace me with her? I'm not a very good maid. Her ladyship saw me on the street, took pity on me, and brought me home. I can't tell you about my previous job. It isn't fit for a lady's ears. And I keep making a muddle of everything. What if he fancies her? What if she replaces me? I will be sent back into the streets. And some of those men are horrible. They don't even got teeth." She wrapped her arms around Kat's waist and clung to her.

The woman seemed an abominable maid, and she was smearing tears and mucus on Kat's skirt. Although she'd prefer to throttle her out of frustration—and perhaps jealousy over finding her in Evan's bed—Kat patted her on the back. "There. There. I'm sure it will all be fine. Why don't you run along?"

Eyes glazed over with tears peered up at Kat. "You ain't gonna tell on me?"

Kat didn't want to make a promise she couldn't keep, but she had no desire to send the lovestruck fool back into the streets, for it seemed they suffered from the same affliction— Evaneaton-itis. "I will not tell my brother you were here."

Confronting Evan was an entirely different story. To the devil with him for flirting with the maid—former prostitute?—and leading her on. For surely, he had, incurable rake that he was.

"Thank you, my lady. You are so kind. Lord Wellspring is lucky to have you."

Lucky?Not in the least. For she had lost all of her luck, found it, and lost it again. Besides, she was not being truthful with Alexander. Although that was about to change. Even though she would not pursue a relationship with the third son of an earl who seduced women lacking the power to defend themselves against lecherous aristocrats, she would no longer lead Alexander on.

Kat lifted the maid's chin so they gazed into each other's eyes. "What is your name?"

"Fanny."

"Run along, Fanny," Kat said again. "Dry your eyes and find another man to adore. Evan Eaton will bring you nothing but pain."

"Thank you, my lady." Fanny blotted at her drenched face with the sleeve of her dress. Her shoulders sagging in defeat, she shuffled from the room.

Once the broken-hearted Fanny was gone, Kat swallowed her own tears. Thereupon, she perched on Evan's bed and scanned the book.

The first few pages were simple sketches of her sister-in-law. Anna had told her that one of Ethan's friends was painting her portrait. At first, Kat hadn't given it a thought. Upon discovering Alexander was a talented artist, she'd assumed he was that friend.

The third page was the photo Fanny had shown her. Kat looked like a fairytale princess in the image. He'd even colored a light peach glow about her. Was that how he saw her?

Next came a picture of the ocean. The child who had drawn it had also scribbled a big W in the bottom right-hand corner. Kat did not recall meeting a child the last few days, but that didn't mean Evan hadn't.

There was also a colorful watercolor of Kat in her lavender sea bathing dress. Three other women in pastel-colored gowns, one carrying a green parasol, stood behind her.

A million pictureswas an exaggeration. However, there were a shocking number. And when had he had time to create the series of black and white sketches of Kat in her theater ensemble, her expression ranging from haughty indifference to delight? He could not have spent the evening bedding some mystery maid and still created so many pictures of Kat. Could he?

She flipped the page and gasped. A lone picture torn from the book had been crumpled, then flattened as if someone had tried to destroy it and changed his mind. Her mask lay beside her in the grass; her lips parted sensually, the swell of her bosom rising indecently high above her neckline.

Scandalous indeed. Her neckline had not plunged that much. Evan Eaton was so…

Deliciously wanton? Infatuated with her? Thought her as lovely and sensual as his artwork depicted?

One thing was certain—he was talented, and his attention to detail was commendable.

She flipped through the pages again, stopping to study the child's artwork with its corner-consuming W.

Could W stand for Wellspring? Did the man not have a single artistic inclination? Interestingly, she had yet to see her portrait, but Buttons had declared it wonderful. Had she been duped? Were they all in on it? Even Ethan and Anna? Since Beth could not keep a secret to save her life, her involvement seemed suspect.

There was only one way to discover the truth, and she was much too angry to give a brass farthing about who witnessed her march to the library.