22. Chapter Twenty-two

Evan spent the morning finishing Anna's portrait and the afternoon showing it off. Like the woman herself, the painting was quite lovely. If Alistair ever tossed him out the front door, he could probably make a living through his art. 'Twas fortunate, since it was high time he discussed his future with his siblings and Grandmother Louisa. He couldn't just loiter around Trent Castle forever, could he?

But he loved living there with Alistair, Evangeline, baby Ali, Jimmy, and Grandmother. Hell, Grandmother enjoyed Trent Castle so much she'd turned a Christmastide visit into a permanent stay. Come to think of it, what was he to do without Mrs. Clayton's biscuits?

Perchance this third son rubbish wasn't all it was cracked up to be. And mayhap, he should have paid attention when Alistair discussed their inheritances and property. His brother, the earl—Evan sniggered—may have mentioned an inheritance. And there might have been a mention of a carriage. Or had his brother, the earl—hysterical—said marriage?

Could he turn the old stone chapel beside the castle into a painting studio? If so, he could walk next door and eat as many biscuits as he wanted. And fence with Alistair—and Jimmy when the lad had semester breaks. Someone had to teach Ali to jump his horse over the lower gate. And who would Grandmother feign annoyance with, and swat at, if Evan wasn't there?

Or mayhap he should grow up and figure out how to make himself worthy of Katrina Harrington.

Justine clasped his arm. "The portrait is divine. You are so talented. I would love to commission some paintings for the inn."

Too perfect.

"I would be delighted to paint whatever you would like," Evan said. "Seascapes would look lovely in the morning room, and perhaps some portraits in the drawing room." Please let Katrina hear her aunt's praise and offer.

"We should toss that one in the rubbish bin." Justine winced at the rumpled vellum in the corner of the room.

Even the trash heap might be too good for Wellspring's abstract depiction of Katrina.

Everyone oohed and awed over Anna's portrait. Unfortunately, they gasped in horror—or laughed—at Katrina's portrait. Buttons and Anna assisted the staff, serving the guests cucumber sandwiches, fresh berries, and lemon tarts. Although guests might not be the correct term. Perhaps army was a better word. Nay. Suicide Squad. Yes.

The seven of them planned social hari kari on a sunny afternoon while partaking of a light luncheon in the Yardley Manor drawing room.

"Thank you for standing by me. I have been blessed with the very best mates in the world," Wellspring said.

"Of course, Springy. We will always stand together," Harrington declared.

"Brothers before chits." Well, that saying didn't quite fit; however, the sentiment did. "To the bloody end," Evan declared with a raised fist.

"I hope my actions did not do anything that might harm your reputations," Wellspring said.

"I'm well past anyone damaging my reputation," Evan said.

Harrington huffed. "Mine went to hell the day Mother gave birth to me."

Emitting a delighted "Yes!" Elizabeth clasped her hands together. "Oh, how I do love a good scheme. Let us finish Greyson off."

Apparently, the lot of them didn't give a shite about their reputations. Which meant Greyson no longer had leverage.

Yesterday, they had left the man lying in the middle of a secluded patch of trees, his nose bleeding, tears dripping from his eyes. If only a ravenous wolf had come upon him and snacked hardily. Because if not, he'd eventually seek revenge and come for them. But until then, Evan would revel in his victory.

This morning, the missing groundskeepers had appeared, claiming they'd been attacked and tied up by three masked men in a dark alley. They'd punched and scratched their assaulters to no avail. They suspected one of the men was Lord Greyson, and from the way he'd ordered the other two around, they may have been servants.

Without proof, the constable had simply shrugged and declared, "You seem to be unharmed other than a few bruises, and if you think I am hauling in an aristocrat without proof, you are insane."

Once again, Greyson had perpetrated a crime and gotten away with it. And for what purpose? To show off playing cricket for Katrina? To best Evan? He'd failed on both accounts. Although he had solidified his position as Biggest Arse of the Ton?

Justine gazed at Katrina, sighed, and then turned her attention to her nephew. "I understand your enthusiasm to hold Lord Greyson accountable for his actions, but you must protect the girls' reputations."

It probably wouldn't do to snort at the plural girls. Despite their initial encounter, Elizabeth Fletcher had grown on Evan. He admired her free spirit. But the girl's repute was as damaged as his. Fortunately, despite the disasters—and blissful encounters—of the last few days, Katrina's reputation remained intact.

Justine arranged her skirts and sat. "And I must take care. I do not want my guests to hear about any of these scandals."

Understandable. Justine's inn was one of the finest on the coast. People of ways and means flocked to it. But their plan was utter rubbish. Dressing like a female and allowing Greyson to paw at him did not appeal to Evan—not even the part of him that loved Falstaffian pranks. This one bloody well made him cringe. And what if he went through with it, and the constable could not be bothered to lock Greyson up? The marquess had just attacked two innocent groundskeepers and gotten away with it. Did anyone care if an aristocratic man mistreated females? Probably not. Evan rubbed at the pang in his chest.

No wonder his sister had devoted her life to both women's and workers' rights. Damn, he was proud of Georgie. Brilliant and innovative, the duchess was unstoppable.

Evan paced, eventually halting in front of Harrington. "Perhaps we should think up an alternate plan."

"I think it is a bloody good idea," his host declared.

Only because he wasn't the one who had to don a wig and a frock.

"I agree with Eaton. We should probably keep thinking," Wellspring said. "I think Operation Fake Lass is quite risky."

Thereupon came a collective sigh, then silence. Evan retraced his trek from the door to the bay window at least a half-dozen times.

"I believe we are finished with this farce," Justine said again. "Please, all of you, let it die. I think Greyson has been humiliated and threatened sufficiently."

"And I believe Evan has already put a stop to his nonsense," Katrina said.

Although Evan wanted to believe this, trusting the shite-fuck might be an error indeed.

Poor Katrina. If the girl didn't stop gnawing on her bottom lip, there would be nothing left for him to kiss. That simply wouldn't do. He halted his frantic movement to comfort her. Before Evan could lower himself to sit beside her, Harrington dashed across the room, knocked him to the side, and stole his seat.

Unbelievable. These monumental problems and Harrington still saw Evan's attraction to Katrina as the problem.

Katrina, oh Katrina. How brave she had been standing up to Greyson. And how mistaken Evan had been to ever think she was a self-centered brat. She was hell-on-carriage-wheels feisty. A force to be reckoned with. A champion for those she cared about. The woman was exceedingly intrepid. And, damn, if that wasn't an aphrodisiac. As if Evan needed any more reasons to find her desirable. He should and would do whatever it took to protect her, including shoving his ego into his boots. This all needed to stop.

"I agree with Justine," Evan said. "I believe Greyson has been thwarted." Please let it be so, he prayed in silence.

"I agree, and I would like to see my new nephew," Katrina announced. "Do you think I might visit Hockley Castle soon?"

What a pleasant change of topic.

"I am sure William will be delighted to have family surrounding him. I shall go with you," Harrington said. "Although they are at Trent Castle. According to yesterday's missive, Georgiana wanted to have the baby there."

Of course, she did. Although she loved her new life, like Evan, her roots grew deep within the grounds of their childhood home. Besides, Grandmother probably insisted.

"Rosebud, would you care to travel to Trent with me?" Harrington asked his wife.

Her gaze slid to Buttons. "But I have company."

"I shall be heading to my London home in two days," Wellspring said. "I have asked Robert to travel with me. I have offered him a job as my valet. That is if you can spare him."

Valet, Evan's big toe. He schooled his chuckle.

"Is that what you would like, Buttons?" Harrington asked.

"Yes, my lord. If you feel that you can do without me at Rosa House?"

"We shall miss you. You have been an exemplary employee, but you have my permission and blessings," Harrington said. "Eaton, I assume you would like to travel with us?"

Evan nodded his agreement.

"'Tis settled," Harrington declared. "The Greyson debacle is behind us. After Springy and Buttons head to London, the four of us shall travel to Trent Castle."

Despite wanting to see his family and new nephew, Evan hated to leave Brighton and Katrina. But since he'd be traveling with her, he could show her his lovely home—the extensive gardens, his special spot by the lake, and the quaint town. Every minute with her was precious.

Harrington's butler, his proper butler, Lester—not Robert Dickens, who was currently offering Evan a scrumptious-looking pastry—entered the room and approached Harrington. "Sir, you have a visitor. A gentleman by the name of Charles Taylor. I believe he is a solicitor."

"Lord Greyson is not with him?"

"Nay, my lord. He is alone."

Thank Christ.

"Good. Show him in," Harrington said.

Moments later, Taylor entered the room. Although he wore an elegant Schweitzer Davidson waistcoat, dark circles rimmed his eyes, and his shoes remained scuffed.

He removed his hat and bowed. "Please excuse my interruption. Lord Ethan, Lord Wellspring, Mr. Eaton, may I have a private word with you?"

This could not be good. Dread crawled up Evan's spine as the four of them headed to Ethan's study.

Once seated, Taylor scraped his fingers through his hair, leaving his curls unruly and disheveled. Then he cast his gaze about the room, studying the corners. He wrinkled his nose. Open, close, open, close—his lips didn't seem to know what they wanted to do. Perhaps he was about to confess what nefarious secret Greyson held over him.

"After being knocked out the other day, Lord Greyson wishes to call a truce."

Mayhap the feud truly had ended. Evan tried to school his smart-arse grin.

"Lord Wellspring, he does not plan to disclose what he knows about you and the gentleman servant." He slid his gaze to Evan. "Or what he discovered about you and Lady Katrina."

Harrington growled. "What did he discover about you and my sister, Eaton?"

Evan closed his eyes and exhaled what might be his last breath. Any second now, Harrington would grab him, wrap his hands around his neck, and squeeze.

Big ol'chicken-shite that he was when it came to his feelings for the lady, Evan ignored the question and posed one of his own. "What does he want from you, Taylor? Money? Caroline's return so that he can mistreat her?"

"My loyalty," Taylor said.

"I see," Harrington said, his angry gaze still fixed on Evan.

Shoulders hanging, Taylor stood and plodded to the door.

Evan posed his question differently. "What does he have on you? Is it that he discovered you have feelings for Caroline?"

Taylor faced them, his movements so slow it was as if he was navigating his way through thick honey. "Caroline has been good to my father. She is a virtuous woman, but I harbor no romantic inclinations toward her. For now, Lord Greyson is under control."

Interesting. Taylor had not denied he was being blackmailed.

"For the best," Harrington said. "I have promised my aunt that this feud is behind us. I cannot continue to have him harass my family, friends, and servants. Besides, we are leaving for Trent in a few days' time."

Evan nodded his agreement.

"Hopefully, the worst is behind us. Good day, gentleman." Taylor closed the door behind him.

Harrington cleared his throat. "What in the hell does Greyson have on you? And you better pray it isn't what I am thinking."

Well, if he was thinking that Evan had done unseemly things to his sister in a public place where anyone could see, he'd be correct. Evan would soon be toothless, for he'd have to stand there and take the beating he deserved.

Damn. He liked his teeth. His smile was one of his best features. Especially when it came to charming the opposite sex, but it was time to unburden himself and tell the truth.

Evan blew out a long breath as he steadied himself. Standing, he met Harrington's intense gaze and held up his hand. "Now, mate, please try to stay calm. You wouldn't want to kill your nephew's other uncle."

Harrington leaped from his chair. Before Evan had time to brace himself, his best mate's fist smashed his chin.