30. Chapter Thirty

Evan's foot tapped incessantly as the damnable carriage inched along. If only they'd taken the time to saddle three horses, they'd be there by now. Hell and damnation, even turtles could travel faster than the loaded-down coach.

The tension between the three of them layered mental discomfort on top of the sweltering heat. If Harrington didn't soon take a breath, he'd pass out, and every few minutes, Taylor swiped tears from his cheeks.

It wasn't that Evan didn't feel sympathy for the solicitor's loss, but to stop Greyson once and for all, they needed Taylor's assistance. Even though Evan could care less about a man's emotions, Taylor's sniffles tugged at his heart.

Egad, the amount of sentimental rubbish Evan had dealt with the last couple of weeks would fill an immense crater. He simply wasn't cut out for such things.

Still, he placed a hand on Taylor's shoulder. "Sorry, old chap. Your father was a good man."

A faint smile tugged at Taylor's lips. "Thank you."

Evan should say something else comforting—not easy to do when you were shite at such things. "I know your father would be proud of you for rescuing Lady Katrina. After all, he did everything in his power to protect Lady Greyson from her shite-sack of a husband."

Greyson nodded. "He looked out for women, children, and animals."

You are dragging him off while he is brokenhearted, so be reassuring, you arse, Evan's conscience nagged, but all he could think to do was repeat himself. "He would be proud of you for protecting Katrina."

"I believe that to be true. 'Tis why I intervened." Taylor blew his nose into a wadded-up handkerchief. "Weeks ago, my father confided in me. His greatest regret was that he allowed his flesh and blood to be raised by a man as cruel as the late Lord Greyson."

"There was nothing he could have done," Evan said. "Greyson's father was a powerful man. He would have destroyed your father, and he had you and your siblings to think about."

Taylor sighed.

Harrington came out of his stupor to exhale a sharp breath. "Good God. What if Greyson… What if he…?" He dropped his forehead into his hands. "Oh, poor Katrina. The last time I spoke to her, I was so cruel. I dismissed her feelings and spoke to her as if she was a child. And now… I will never forgive myself if something happens to her. I've been such a fool."

Harrington had been a bloody arse, but this was not the time to remind him of it.

"We will reach her in time," Evan said, as he shoved his own nightmarish fears deep.

At long last, the carriage halted in front of the manor. The massive stone structure was rather lovely. Too bad Greyson was about to lose Limestone Manor. Nay, make that all of his estates as well as his title. Well, not too bad at all. One reaped what one sowed.

Evan exited the vehicle and sprinted across the front lawn, Taylor and Harrington at his heels.

Without waiting for someone to answer the door, they barged into Limestone Manor. Their footfalls echoed in the spacious foyer, mingling with the heavy panting from their mad dash. They halted to study the numerous paths branching from the entranceway.

"Where in the hell is she?" Harrington asked.

"We should split up," Evan suggested. "I'll go this way." He pointed up a stairwell lined with gilded portraits.

His companions nodded, then broached opposite hallways.

Evan took the stairs two at a time to the landing where a man in livery, sweat dripping from his brow, stood sentry.

"Where is Greyson?" Evan asked.

"Are you here for the lady?"

Evan stepped into the man's space. "I'm not in the bloody mood. Tell me where he is, and do not try to stop me."

The footman held up his hands in surrender. "I will not stop you. I do not want harm to come to the lady." He pointed down a hall. At the end stood two men in livery.

"Please help her. She is in the Crimson Chamber, and her ladyship and Lord Greyson are with her."

The Crimson Chamber stoked horrifying images of blood-caked instruments of torture and human sacrifices.

A door opened, and a pink-clad shoulder appeared. "You will not get away with this."

Katrina's voice! Thank heavens.

"And who is to stop us?" Greyson asked as he tugged her back into the chamber. The door slammed closed.

The deafening roar of Evan's blood pumping hammered in his ears as he raced toward Katrina.

"My lord," the footman guarding the stairwell called to his back.

Although the address was incorrect, Evan slowed slightly and peered over his shoulder.

"The lady is quite brave. She even stood up to the marchioness."

Evan mumbled, "Yes. Yes, she is," as he bore down on the pair of footmen. With outstretched arms, they half-heartedly attempted to bar his entrance. He plowed through them and entered the room.

Although the chamber boasted a variety of red shades, there were no corpses or blood. Katrina stood in the middle of the clashing red decorating disaster, hands on hips, her hair in complete disarray. She boldly met Greyson's gaze.

An older woman in a white wig and big-skirted gown turned to glare at Evan. "What are you doing in my home? I shall call the constabulary and have you escorted to the local gaol."

Evan ignored the enraged woman. "Are you injured, Katrina?" he asked, shocked that he could be so angry and still maintain a gentle quality in his voice.

"Evan!"

Katrina attempted to run to him. Greyson grasped her arm and held her in place.

"Evan Eaton?" The absurd-wigged, huge-skirted female, who had to be Greyson's mother, held a lorgnette to her eye, looked him over, and hummed. "It has been years since I have seen you."

Evan had no recollection of her. The society functions Grandmother Louisa had forced him to attend blurred together in one long, endless string of distorted smiles. But then, when he was a young lad of fourteen, or thereabouts, his boredom turned to hedonistic adventures as he immersed himself in cards and drink and found his way up skirts.

"I am afraid your betrothed engaged in indecent relations with my son," the marchioness said, a haughty lilt to her jagged-edged voice.

"You lying witch," Katrina said as she fought to wriggle free from Greyson's grasp. "Do not believe a word she says. They plan to ruin my reputation."

"I would not believe her ladyship if she told me the sky was blue," Evan said. "Because that would surely be a day it was a brilliant purple."

The marchioness's chuckle was void of humor, and despite her lovely eyes, her smile was as unpleasant as her son's twisted grin. "It only matters what others believe."

Evan formed a fist and edged forward. "Unless you want to lose a few teeth, you'd better let go of her, Greyson."

The marquess—make that cruel as hell by-blow—might lose a few teeth even after freeing her.

Panting, Taylor entered the room. He bent forward and fought to catch his breath. Sweat dripped down his nose to plink onto the burgundy carpet.

"What in the deuces are you doing here?" Greyson asked.

Taylor took his time straightening only to bow again. "Lady Greyson." He faced his half-brother. "Harrington and Eaton know the truth about our father."

"No!" the marchioness cried out.

Greyson's shoulders sagged, and he let go of Katrina. She leaped into Evan's arms. Clasping her to his chest, he absorbed her warmth and inhaled her scent. Even after everything she'd been through, she smelled of fragrant summer roses.

Harrington's large body entered the room, bringing with it an angry energy and additional heat. "You bloody fuckwit." He stalked toward Greyson.

"Wait." Taylor stepped between the two men. "I am sure we can work something out so that nobody is ruined, maimed, or murdered."

"Doubtful," Harrington grumbled through clenched teeth.

Meanwhile, the marchioness sobbed—quite loudly—as Taylor cooed calming words to Harrington and Greyson.

How satisfying it would be to watch Harrington ground Greyson's face into the carpet. It would be even more gratifying to be the one to do it, but then Evan would have to let go of Katrina, and he wasn't quite ready to release her. Still, he needed to do something because chaos erupted around him.

But what?

Too bad he didn't have Stephen's diplomacy, Alistair's leadership, or Georgiana's bold daring, for his siblings would have had a solution to this debacle. As it was, Evan was at a loss, and a quivering solicitor was the only thing keeping Harrington from killing a fellow lord.

Wait a minute. A solicitor? The brother of a duke? A man and a woman with a secret they'd do anything to keep? Evan could work with this. In fact, he had one deuce of a good plan.

Evan let go of Katrina, placing her behind him and taking a protective stance in case Greyson pulled a bacon-headed stunt. He whistled, garnering everyone's attention. Once all eyes were on him, he took control of the situation.

"Greyson, in return for our silence, you will cease with your threats and blackmailing. You will never come near Katrina again. If you see her at a social function, you will leave at once. There are no exceptions. Not only that, but you will never darken Yardley Manor and show up uninvited at the Harrington estate again."

Greyson rolled his eyes. Apparently, he had not yet realized his dire situation—a grievous error on his part because Evan was deadly serious.

"You will stop mistreating women and servants. You will set up a milliner shop for Caroline, the poor maid you harassed. I believe she has a particular interest in fine ladies' hats."

"Missish chit, she was. I did not even touch her. Well, barely touched her. Still, she boohoo-ed like a child."

"Wrong answer," Evan said. "You will hand over the lease to her and never bother her again. And it is my understanding that there was a young shopgirl in town that you impregnated. You will ensure she receives an annual sum of seventy pounds a year to raise her child."

"Seventy?" Greyson sputtered. "Highway robbery. I will do no such thing."

"Seventy-two," Evan said. "Any more objections?"

Greyson growled.

Evan clucked his tongue. "Seventy-five."

"Fine," Greyson mumbled.

"But you will not approach her. Taylor's office will handle the payments." Evan slid his gaze from Greyson to his mother. "Both of you will cease with blackmailing. If I hear one word that you are attempting to extort anything from anyone, from chambermaid to duchess, the truth of Francis's dubious parentage will be made public. If you think I am bluffing, start one little rumor and see what happens."

Using the sleeve of her garish gold gown as a handkerchief, the marchioness swiped at her tears.

"Taylor will draw up an agreement stating all of this, and Harrington and I will approve it," Evan said.

Harrington swathed Greyson in a shite-eating grin.

"I believe that is quite fair," Taylor said. "Think of it, Francis. You will keep your title and lands and make recompense to those you have harmed. Truly, 'tis a good deal. I'd take it."

Greyson groaned. "How do I know you all will keep your word?"

"It will be a legal document," Taylor said, "and I will oversee it."

Evan nodded. "One copy will be placed with the Duke of Astleyshire for safekeeping, and the other will be with my brother, Alistair, the Earl of Trent."

"I think Kitty should have her own chamber. Could you add that to the contract?" Katrina asked.

Who in the dickens was Kitty?

"Done." Taylor drew an imaginary check mark in the air. "Does anyone have anything else to add?"

There were two more people that Greyson had the power to ruin.

"As far Lord Wellspring—"

"Bloody molly," Greyson mumbled under his breath.

The marchioness brought a hand to her mouth. "The Earl of Wellspring beds men?"

Taylor gagged. "A butler, no less."

Evan fought to keep his fist by his side. "Greyson, you will make it your life's work to stop the raids on molly houses." Evan might also take on the project. Surely, a man with his connections could do something persuasive.

"I will do no such thing. I'd stab my eyes out first," Greyson said.

Katrina lunged in Greyson's direction. "I will stab them out for you."

Evan's uptight princess had become a brave warrior. Together, they would change the old-school prejudices of their class.

"And shove them down your bloody throat," Evan added.

The marchioness's hysterics having tired her out, and her skin now a pale shade that almost matched her wig, she collapsed onto the bed.

A profusely sweating, red-cheeked Greyson fought back one last time. "You will never get away with this. You will be arrested for conspiracy against the Crown for knowing about my decepti…" His words trailed off as he realized he'd been beaten. He crumpled to his knees and dropped his forehead into his hands.

"Stand up, brother." Taylor pulled Greyson onto his feet. "Face this like a man. It is what our father would have wanted. And look at it this way. You get to keep your title, and you can become a better man and do something for the greater good."

Greyson was only on his feet for a moment when Katrina stomped toward him, hiked her skirt to her knees, and kicked him in the bollocks. He groaned as he crumpled onto the carpeting.

Katrina swiped her hands back and forth. "Remember, Kitty gets a private chamber. May we please go now?" She sashayed to the door, her hips swaying in the most delicious taunt.

Looking thoughtful, Harrington hooked his thumb beneath his chin and tilted his head. "When did my sister become so brave?"

Katrina peeked back into the room. "The second I saw Evan Eaton in a mask." She winked at Evan and curled her finger, calling him to her.

"Hmm," Harrington murmured.

After that declaration, how could her brother deny that Katrina and Evan belonged together? Evan couldn't help his grin. Surely it was toothy, big, and absurd. Most importantly, it was genuine, for this might be the greatest moment of his life. He, Evan Eaton, the youngest of The Troublesome Eatons of Trent, an irresponsible rake with a love for cards and quim, and the attention span of a gnat, now had an important purpose.

Evan scampered after Lady Katrina Harrington, the bravest woman of his acquaintance.

Together, they would paint the world in vibrant rainbow colors as they made love a million times a day.