4. Chapter Four

Damn, Evan disliked Katrina Harrington. So why did he spend most of the night fantasizing about burying his face between her thighs?

Despite his restless sleep, he awoke early. He downed three cups of tea and ate a plate of sausages. Then, he met his lovely subject in the drawing room and concentrated on his task. Let everyone mock his short attention span; he focused like a monk when interested in something.

Two hours later, he compared the blonde curl hanging over Anna Harrington's shoulder to the one he'd painted on the canvas. Perfection. In a few more days, he'd be ready to present the piece to her besotted husband. He'd pat his own shoulder once he was alone.

"Are we finished for the day?" Anna asked.

Evan nodded. "Can you sit tomorrow at the same time?"

"Yes. You are joining us for the seaside picnic tomorrow, are you not?"

"Indeed I am. I'm looking forward to it," Evan said.

There was something about the waves pounding against his skin and the salt air that made him feel alive. Doctor Russell's popular cure that included drinking sea water seemed suspect, but splashing in the ocean usually cured Evan's ails, which currently included anxiety over seducing his friend's sister.

His friend's beautiful, delectable sister, whom he might seek out and kiss again. Bloody hell! What kind of fool sought attention from a troublesome brat? He needed to kick this attraction to Katrina all the way to hell.

As he cleaned up his work area, Anna came up behind him to peer at her portrait.

"Oh, my. 'Tis as if I am staring into a mirror, but you have made me quite handsome."

"You are always beautiful. I have simply captured it," Evan said with complete sincerity.

"Eh, hm." Harrington filled the drawing room doorway. "May I come in?"

The smiling Wellspring peered over their host's shoulder.

Anna giggled as she glided to her husband. He clasped her in his arms, and she bonked his nose with her index finger.

"You are not permitted to look until it is finished." She clasped his hand and tugged him into the room.

Grumbling, Harrington stared at the back of the easel since the canvas faced the wall. "When will it be finished, Eaton?"

"When it's finished," Evan declared, with a not-so-subtle wink to Anna.

"I believe everything is arranged for our picnic tomorrow," Anna said.

"Splendid," Harrington said. "Did you invite my Aunt Justine and Elizabeth?"

"Yes," Anna said. "And, of course, your sister."

Hell, no. Katrina Harrington may smell and taste heavenly, but she was impossible. Holding a ten-year grudge over a tiny frog, always acting holier than thou, and blaming Evan for the entirety of last night's kisses were just a few of his complaints about the chit. How apropos that he'd called her Princess. It was the perfect nickname for her spoiled, uptight highness. Besides, he'd rid himself of her memory just moments ago.

And Harrington's cousin? The woman was trouble. Evan tried to school his cringe. Elizabeth had whispered such indecent things in his ear. It was no wonder he'd thought she might be inviting him to a ménage a? trois when the wrong woman temporarily appeared in her place. Elizabeth was even more dangerous than… Evan moaned. He'd often behaved in the same manner. Perhaps his siblings and grandmother were correct the numerous times they told him to grow up.

"The more the merrier, Rosebud." Harrington kissed his wife on the lips.

"May Buttons join us?" Anna folded her hands in a prayer position and batted her lashes at her husband. "Please. He stayed in his room during the masquerade last night. And he does so love the seaside."

Harrington rolled his eyes. "I suppose so."

"Oh, thank you." Anna bounced on her toes and clapped. "You do so indulge me."

"Because you are the sweetest, most beautiful woman in the world, and I am an absolute fool in your presence."

Lord Ethan Harrington, the second son of the late Duke of Astleyshire and Evan's one-time libidinous partner in crime had been reduced to sickeningly sweet sentiment at the hands of a pretty chambermaid. It would be ridiculous if it weren't so bloody charming.

Harrington motioned for Evan and Wellspring to follow him. "Let us head to my study for a drink."

"Buttons?" Wellspring asked as they strolled down the corridor. "Does Anna have a pet?"

Harrington's moan morphed into a chuckle. "Nay. He is the butler at my family"s London House and Anna considers him her best friend. He is visiting her for the fortnight."

Wellspring rested a finger on his chin. Neither he nor Evan addressed their friend's unorthodox choice of bride or the fact the additional houseguest was a butler.

As they strolled, Wellspring and Harrington turned the conversation to the masquerade. Once they entered the study, Harrington clapped Evan on the back.

"Eaton, you are quiet today. I dare say, you must have been out late with one of our female guests?"

Evan's stomach soured. He'd never cared who he'd seduced or tupped. But he'd never before kissed his best mate's sister. And it had been one hell of a kiss. His cock twitched at the mere memory.

Willing his prick to behave, he plopped onto one of the wingbacks. "I don't want to talk about it. Just pour me a whiskey."

Someone passed him a drink.

He still held the last swig in his mouth when Wellspring said, "Harrington, I believe it is time for me to choose a wife. I find Lady Katrina to be a superior woman. May I have your permission to court your sister?"

Evan choked, spraying whiskey across Harrington and his desk.

"Bloody hell, Eaton!" Harrington swiped the offending liquid from his face.

"Sorry." Evan tapped his throat. "That sip burned."

Harrington glared at him before turning his focus to Wellspring. "I dare say, you have read my mind. William and I have already talked of this and think you would make a splendid brother-in-law." His gaze intense, their host leaned across the desk. "However, you must have thick skin because she is a bit spoiled."

What an understatement. Evan harrumphed.

Harrington scowled as he drummed his fingers on his desk. "You are sucking on the inside of your jaw, Eaton. Do you have something you want to say about my sister?"

"Nay. Not a thing." Except perhaps she was a huge pain in the arse. "But she is blonde and you and the duke are dark."

Where in the hell had that stupid comment come from?

"Are you insinuating my sister is a by-blow? Or that my brother and I are bastards?" Harrington asked.

William was the rat bastard who'd tupped Evan's conquests, cheated at cards, and did unthinkable things to Georgiana before they were married. But this might not be the moment to bring it up. It was just that if the damn chit had looked more like her brother's, he might not have stuck his tongue in her mouth. Her soft, sweet mouth…

"Not that it is any of your business, but my brother and I take after our father, and my sister takes after my mother's side of the family. My mother was quite a fair beauty," Harrington said. "Katrina and my cousin Elizabeth could pass for sisters."

No shite. Evan swallowed his groan and feigned a smile. "Springy, you are terribly shy. You must be bold to woo a woman like Katrina."

Alexander was a handsome chap and considered the catch of the season. However, while Evan and Ethan had bedded every available woman they came across, Wellspring studied and read. Since Katrina was the queen's niece, and one of the diamonds of the season, and the earl was considered a catch in his own right, the couple was well-suited despite his inexperience.

So why was an unidentifiable sensation wafting over Evan, twisting his heart into an empty ache? He squeezed and released his fist until it dissipated.

"However—" Harrington exhaled an exasperated sigh "—my sister may hold a grudge against you since you beat her in the mask contest. She prides herself on her artistic talent."

"She did not seem upset the last time we spoke. She was the first to congratulate me." Wellspring colored up as if he were a virginal chit. "She seemed quite pleased about my win. But I do not want any untruths between us. I shall tell her that Eaton is the one who beat her."

"Hmm." Harrington's brow furrowed in contemplation. "Perchance I have misjudged the situation, and instead of begrudging you the ribbon, she now fancies you. There is no need to bring Eaton into this. She is still furious at him for putting a frog in her drink when we were children."

Why couldn't the chit let it go? The amphibian had croaked, she had screamed, and tea had erupted from her mouth like a gargoyle after a rainstorm. No harm was done. Unless one counted her frock and Evan's bruises. She'd punched his shoulder three times, then dashed away, crying.

Harrington stared into his glass as he swirled his whiskey. "Perchance the way to my sister's heart is through art. She is quite passionate about it."

Interesting. Evan had no idea Katrina liked art. He'd assumed her interests didn't extend beyond gowns, jewels, and being the center of attention.

"She loves to talk about her trip to the continent to study art. Oh, and ask to see her sketchbook and compliment it," Harrington told Wellspring.

Wellspring nodded. "It would be my pleasure."

"While at the seaside tomorrow, Eaton and I will do our best to sing your praises. Remember our code?" Harrington raised a fist. "Mates before chits."

As if Evan's good opinion would matter to Katrina. However, their code had served him well numerous times over the years when he found himself in a compromising position with a conquest or a cuckolded husband.

There was that unsettling heart-twisting sensation again.

Evan sighed and held up his empty glass. "Another, please."

While strolling across the pebbled shoreline, their party chattered away. Evan, Harrington, and Wellspring walked ahead of the group. As Harrington promised, he turned around and bellowed Wellspring's praises to everyone behind them, his voice carrying over the wind.

"What a fine job you did on your mask the other night, Springy. You are talented indeed. Did you know that Katrina studied art on the continent?"

Poor Wellspring stared at his boots as they waited for Katrina to catch up.

Once she walked beside them, Harrington put his arm around her. "Katrina, did you know that Alexander is interested in Art History?"

Evan and Wellspring stopped short to glare at the lying Harrington.

Meanwhile, Katrina's eyes lit up. She halted and faced the earl. "Do you have a favorite period of art? Or a favorite artist."

Wellspring cleared his throat. "Ah, um…"

Harrington willed Evan with imploring eyes, mouthing, "Mates before—"

Katrina must have sensed her brother's pantomime because she turned to look at him. He quickly averted his gaze to the shoreline.

That damnable adolescent promise that at one time had been an admirable code would cause Evan to suffocate in a heaping pile of shite. On second thought, perchance, it would help him put the memory of Katrina Harrington and her heaving breasts and delectable lips to rest.

"Springy, were you not just telling me how much you admire Sir Francis LeggattChantrey?" Evan asked. "Is he not your favorite artist?"

"Sir Francis LeggattChantrey?" Katrina's sapphire-colored eyes clouded over with affection. "Do you paint portraits too, Alexander?"

"Of course, he does," Harrington said. "Springy, you should paint Katrina?"

"Ah, um," Wellspring sputtered.

"Then, 'tis settled," Harrington declared with a hand flourish. "You shall paint Katrina. The first sitting shall be tomorrow afternoon."

Katrina clasped her hands together as poor Wellspring paled.

Evan missed what she said to him because her conniving brother leaned close to whisper, "We need to help the chap out. You'll paint it."

How in the deuces was Evan to manage that? Was he to wear a disguise as he painted? Anna all morning and Katrina in the afternoon? Not that he didn't love painting, but he'd hoped to spend his afternoons soaking up the sea air and the charming town. Besides he did not desire to spend time with Katrina. Did he?

Nay. To hell with the chit!

Since he was usually easy-going, he had no idea what to do with his stomach-souring frustration. Hoping to calm himself, he hastened his steps and walked ahead of the group.

The parade of ten scaled a slope to reach a grassy overlook. Beneath them, the waves rolled until they crashed into the beach. The life-affirming breeze whipped at Evan's hair, and the sun heated his cheeks. He reached his arms toward the clouds and inhaled. Salt air filled his lungs. He exhaled, and the stress left him with a whoosh.

"Shall we picnic here?" Harrington called.

The chorus of Yeses mingled with the pounding surf and the squawking seagulls.

Two members of Yardley Manor's staff, and Buttons the butler who didn't seem to understand he was now considered a guest, laid out blankets and erected a small tent. Baskets of cold meats, bread, cheeses, pickled vegetables, and fresh fruits were arrayed.

Evan piled a plate high and situated himself as far away from Katrina and Elizabeth as possible. The two women sat with Justine and Anna, and the four of them amicably chatted as their colorful bonnet ribbons blew about. It seemed Katrina had convinced her cousin to forgive her. Although it was obvious she still held Evan in low regard because while Elizabeth sent him sideways glances, Katrina stuck her perfect nose in the air and stared past him as if he didn't exist.

Wellspring and Buttons looked out over the water, conversing as if they were not separated by class and title. Harrington soon joined Evan and they ate in companionable silence. Eventually, Buttons sat with the ladies, and Wellspring plopped down beside Evan.

"Harrington, what is your opinion on this sea bathing?" the earl asked.

"I find it quite enjoyable, and I take part in it regularly," Harrington said. "I pretend as though I am a large fish and kick my legs as if I have a tail. This spot is quite secluded, so I often come here after sunset, strip naked, and take my preventative dip." Attempting to show off his athletic physique, he bent his arm ninety degrees and grunted. An impressive muscle strained against the fabric of his tailcoat. "I do not require a cure, but my swimming keeps me as stalwart as Poseidon."

"Naked?" Wellspring choked on a bite of roast beef.

"You don't expect me to splash about in my waistcoat and Hessians, do you?"

Evan clapped Wellspring on the back, then pointed down the beach at the colorful wagons and beachgoers dotting the landscape.

"Springy, you could always visit the bathing machines with the women." Chuckling, Evan rubbed his hands together. "That might be quite fun. I'd wager you can see through their bathing frocks."

Harrington growled. "I hope you are not referencing my wife, aunt, cousin, and sister."

Evan pressed two fingers against the throbbing ache overtaking his temple. He missed his irreverent friend who used to laugh at his quipping humor. These days Harrington would cut off his balls if he knew the things he was trying not to imagine doing to Katrina in her bathing costume. Foolish indeed since the woman would never enter the sea. It would mess up her perfect coiffure.

Harrington's jaw clenched. Damnation. Had his friend read his indecent thoughts?

"'Tis bloody Greyson," Harrington mumbled under his breath.

Since even the kind-hearted Wellspring cringed, Evan looked over his shoulder to see what had caused their disquiet.

Hell, no.

Two Greysons trudged toward them. Evan scrubbed at his eyes and looked again. Hell's bells, Charles Taylor and Greyson looked alike. As did Elizabeth and Katrina. However, the women were cousins. Taylor and Greyson had no ties other than Taylor was the marquess's solicitor. Mayhap Evan simply needed to rest his eyes.

A grating scraping drowned out the surf and gulls as their boots crunched and their walking sticks dug into the pebbles.

"Good day," Greyson said.

Although cordial, the round of salutations was hardly enthusiastic.

Greyson waved to the woman, who half-heartedly waved back. "Who is the chap?" He inclined his chin toward the butler.

"My wife's dear friend."

Evan recognized Harrington's scowl. It was the one that warned, Go ahead, you bloody fool. Open your mouth and say something smart-arse so I can relieve you of your teeth.

"Ah." Greyson wriggled his nose as if inhaling dung. Quite stupid considering Harrington's clenched fist. "Harrington, I'd like to speak with you in private."

"Probably preferable to discuss whatever the matter is in front of our audience," Harrington said.

Or at least safer for Greyson because it might keep Harrington from throttling him.

Greyson pursed his lips. "Fine," he said in his affected nasally voice. "I'd like permission to court your sister and since the duke is not present, I thought I'd ask you. Perchance your Aunt Justine could act as our chaperone, and we could promenade at the pier tomorrow afternoon?"

What a foolish request. Ethan Harrington would surely bloody Greyson's nose, and the Duke of Astleyshire would slice him into a million pieces.

Harrington flashed him a hand, then pointed at Wellspring. "I have already given permission for the earl to court her."

Greyson lifted his walking stick and waved it about. "But I am a marquess."

He was also a swag-bellied swine.

Taylor exhaled. "Mayhap the lady would like to choose."

"How unorthodox," Greyson said. But then his chest puffed with foolish pride. "Yes. Let the lady choose her suitor."

Harrington snorted. "Greyson, my sister would rather have spikes shoved under her fingernails than court you."

Greyson's nostrils flared. "I assure you; she is quite interested in me. Why not ask her?"

The anxiety Evan had recently rid himself of returned with a vengeance. As much as he disliked Katrina, she could not court Greyson. The man was a maggot pie. Wellspring was the best sort of chap, but if she courted him, Evan could never again take her in his arms and kiss her. And why did that thought stab him in the heart? There were a million other women he could kiss who were more agreeable.

"Fine. Make an arse of yourself." Harrington beckoned his sister with curling fingers. "Katrina," he called.

She took forever to stand and approach, her wrinkled nose indicating she did not hold the marquess in high regard. In fact, she seemed to be bestowing more glunches at Greyson than she tossed at Evan. Still, the marquess's smirk remained cocksure.

"Katrina, I would like you to accompany me to the pier tomorrow afternoon," Greyson said.

The girl's eyes widened, and her face flushed. "I cannot. Lord Wellspring is painting my portrait tomorrow afternoon."

Greyson's gaze traveled from Wellspring to Evan to Katrina, and he snorted. "Then you shall accompany me to dinner two evenings hence."

What a frigging rat the man was.

Katrina blanched. "I… I cannot. I have dinner plans with my cousin Elizabeth."

"Bring her along. Charles can join us." Greyson thumped his very sad-looking companion on his chest.

As troublesome as Elizabeth and Katrina were, not even an untamable shrew should be forced to spend time with Greyson. Evan had to do something to protect the women.

"Elizabeth and Katrina have already consented to attend the theater with Wellspring and me that evening," Evan said.

Katrina clamped her lips together. If she didn't soon take a breath, they'd have to peel her from the sand.

Greyson's soulless eyes morphed into devious slits. The shite-sack guided Katrina a few feet away, stepped close to her, and boldly whispered something in her ear. The chit turned white, her gaze locking with Evan's.

Greyson faced his onlookers. "I look forward to our time together, Lady Katrina." With a malevolent grin consuming his countenance, he turned on his heel. When Taylor did not immediately follow him, he turned to call, "Keep pace, man."

"I am sorry, Lady Katrina," Taylor mouthed to her as she worried her lip. He bowed. "Good day, gentleman." Thereupon, he trudged across the sand to catch up to his odious mate.

"What in the hell did that arse say to you?" Harrington asked his sister.

Katrina swallowed as she wiped her hands on her skirt. "He simply asked to call upon me. I have agreed." Unshed tears glistened in her eyes. She turned her back to the men.

"You shall never be alone with that man," Harrington bellowed. "I forbid it."

Her head low and her shoulders slumped, Katrina returned to the tent.

Had Greyson, the devious prick, just threatened Lady Katrina Harrington into spending time with him? If so, it could only mean one thing. He had scandalous information on her. She was so damn proper. What could it be?

As the unfortunate situation dawned on Evan, he winced. What in the bloody hell had he set into motion the second he unwittingly kissed the masked Katrina Harrington?

"I forbid it," Harrington bellowed again.