5. Chapter Five

Only the most fashionable of Brighton's visitors and inhabitants lodged at The Crown Jewel Inn. Lord Byron, Fanny Burney, and Maria Fitzherbert were just a few notables who at one time or another had graced its halls. A few years prior, Cousin Prinny himself had stayed in the chamber Kat and Beth now occupied. It was said that he watched construction on his beloved Royal Pavilion from the bay window. Since the view also included a panorama of the sea and the newest homes on Regency Square, it was indeed the most magical bed chamber in all of England. Perchance all of the world.

The mint-green floral wallpaper and rose-colored upholstery gave the room a light and airy feel perfectly suited to the resort's elegant and healing reputation. The four-poster bed was so large that Kat and Beth could stretch their arms wide and still not touch each other. And each of them had a settee to lounge upon. Currently, Kat reposed on the one beneath the oriel, cradling a copy of Northanger Abbey on her lap while Beth stared into the mirror above their dressing table.

"Good heavens, my cheeks pinkened in the sun this afternoon," Beth said. "Do you think that Frederick will find it unbecoming?"

The shade suited her cousin. But would a man find it attractive? Probably not. A proper gentleman would want his betrothed to have a pale, delicate complexion. Kat touched her warm nose and sighed. Henceforward, she needed to do a better job of protecting her skin.

A light rap on the door distracted her from responding. Aunt Justine entered, the silver threads in her lavender gown sparkling, and the twinkle in her eyes reminding Kat of her late mother when she was excited.

As usual, Kat forced a stoic smile, swallowed years of unacknowledged grief, and greeted her aunt.

"Are you sure you do not want to join us at the theater?" Aunt Justine asked as she perched on a regal wingback.

Kat desperately needed to be alone with her thoughts. "Nay, I find myself quite tired after the picnic and would like to read. Yet again, A Lady has done a marvelous job." Kat held up her book. In truth, she had not been able to make it past the first page since her thoughts careened about punching at her brain like brutal fists.

"Mother, do you think that my sun-tinted cheeks are unbecoming?" Beth giggled. "Shall I change into a dress that highlights my décolletage? That way, Frederick will not notice my coloring because he will be too busy staring at my breasts."

Beth's bosom already overflowed indecently. Why couldn't Kat's cousin show more decorum?

Aunt Justine rolled her eyes. "If you show any more skin, why even bother with a clothing? Besides, you look perfectly lovely in that gown, and I have a powder you may borrow. I shall call for a maid to deliver it."

"Thank you." Elizabeth beamed at her mother. "Please don't hover while chaperoning this evening. I do not want Frederick to think my mother is overbearing."

Aunt Justine's response was a pinched brow that would make Kat behave. Although, one never could be sure about Beth. A chastity belt might not keep her from wrapping herself around the opposite sex.

"I believe you shall both have a suitable proposal before the end of the season. Frederick and Alexander are both superior gentlemen," Aunt Justine said.

"Speaking of superior gentlemen…" Beth's reflection glared at Kat. "Mother, what do you think of Evan Eaton?"

Wincing, Kat slammed her book closed with entirely too much force. "Evan Eaton is a reprehensible rogue," she declared way too emphatically.

Beth's reflection raised a brow. "Is that truly how you feel about him?"

Although her cousin had declared she'd forgiven Kat for her indiscretion at the masquerade, perchance she still held a grudge. Not that Kat had forgiven herself. She would die from mortification if Aunt Justine ever found out what she'd done. She held her breath, awaiting her aunt's opinion of the man.

Her lips pursed, Aunt Justine's gaze traveled back and forth between Kat and Beth. "Girls, I thought we should take Katrina sea-bathing tomorrow afternoon."

Sea-bathing? Nay! There was nothing more disgusting than sea creatures rubbing against her legs. Well, Greyson calling on her was more unpalatable. But cold water? Pinching lobsters? Biting sharks? Octopus and Kraken! And in an unfashionable dipping costume!

Beth clapped and faced them. "That would be most entertaining."

"But I have no ailments that require a cure," Kat declared.

"It shall be such fun," Beth said. "It makes one feel like a mermaid."

"But Alexander is painting my portrait," Kat said.

"We should have time after your sitting and before Evan and Alexander arrive for the theater." Aunt Justine's intense gaze bored into Kat's soul. "Katrina, are you sure you do not want to attend the theater this evening? Frederick has invited all three of us, and 'tis so unlike you to stay in for the evening."

Oh, how Kat adored the theater. But, alas, she needed to ponder a way out of her dilemma. "I am truly content to sit with my book."

"I do hope you won't be such a bore your entire visit," Beth said. "You will attend the upcoming cricket match and the theater with Evan and Alexander, won't you?"

What if Greyson attended every social gathering? Was she to lock herself away for her summer holiday? The annual cricket tournament Aunt Justine organized was one of her favorite events, and she truly wanted to attend the theatre with Alexander. However, she could do without Evan. She sighed.

"I have left instructions with the staff. They are to turn Lord Greyson away if he calls on you this evening. I cannot provide the details, but the man cheats, blackmails, takes advantage of women…"

Kat gasped in horror.

Her aunt continued as if she hadn't just delivered a shocking proclamation. "Elizabeth, let me get you that powder, and then we will be on our way." She tugged on the bell pull.

Thereupon, after the horrifying news, her aunt and cousin prattled away about sea-bathing and Frederick Montague as they awaited the maid.

Once alone, Kat paced the chamber, recalling the odious Greyson's threat.

"If you want me to keep your secret, you will allow me to call upon you," the arrogant blackguard whispered while her brother stood so close, he could have overheard.

She dropped her forehead into her hands and whimpered. This was Evan Eaton's fault. He should also have to pay for their sins. If, indeed, kissing was a sin. Either way, he should be held accountable.

A couple of nights ago, the sea air had lifted her spirits and made her feel alive. Although she had no desire to dip in those terrifying waves, a stroll along the coast might provide a jolt of fortitude and assist her in finding a solution.

She donned her walking boots, bonnet, and gloves. Her footfall light, she crept down the stairwell and exited through a rarely used side entrance.

Avoiding the crowds, she cast her gaze downward as she hastened along the side street. Soon, she strolled the pebbled beach, then climbed the footpath to the overlook they'd picnicked on. Since she no longer had a blanket or a tent, she plumped her rump onto the patch of grass and breathed the salt air.

The sun sat low on the horizon, its golden silhouette surrounded by purple, peach, and red patches.

Krarkrar the seagulls sang to her as they dove and swopped.

Crash! The waves pounded and rolled; their power so immense that her problems felt minute. There was no way she would let Evan or Greyson destroy her. Alexander would propose to her. She'd make a lovely bride, and a doting wife and mother.

A lone figure strutted into her line of vision. Brushing a blowing strand of hair from her eyes, she double-checked to make sure it was indeed a man and not a sea creature.

Since, to her knowledge, sea creatures did not carry boots or have a waistcoat slung over their shoulder, it was definitely a human. Staring into the abyss of foamy black water, the figure kept his back to her. Narrow hips, wide shoulders, and a well-formed… dare she think the word arse?

Wait! Oh, no.

Although many males were arses, only one man had an arse. All others possessed backsides. Surely this could not be the huge arse who possessed the fine arse.

He dropped the boots and turned to the side to watch a seagull pluck something from the beach.

Egad! Evan Eaton. She should stomp back down the path and tell him to fix the mess he'd made of her life.

She stood and brushed out her skirt.

She hadn't taken two steps when Evan dropped his waistcoat onto the beach. It would be quite fitting if a wave carried it into the ocean, or a seagull relieved itself right over top of it. She snorted.

Her amusement halted the second his cravat spiraled downward, landing on top of the vest. He stood still for a moment, then flung his shirt to the side. The breeze carried the linen, dropping it a few inches from his clothing pile.

He stood wide-legged, the fading sun bathing his chiseled backside in a golden glow.

She should look away before he….

Too late. His trousers slid down his hips and legs, pooling around his feet. He kicked them to the side, then stretched his arms toward the clouds. Sparkling rays surrounded him, proclaiming him an ocean deity. And my, oh my, he was spectacular.

If only she could capture this moment. It would be the greatest painting of all time—Naked God Embracing His Power.

Kat's legs quivered. Collapsing onto the ground, she covered her mouth to stifle her gasp.

She willed him to turn toward her so that she might witness his manly bits. Beth crassly referred to the masculine appendage as a cock. Obviously, Kat had seen one in paintings, but never a real live pulsing one. At least, she imagined they pulsed. Not that she could see Evan's pulsing from this far away. But she might like to see it. Perchance touch it too.

Heavens. She was wanton and lecherous.

Nay. She was an artist. An artist analyzing a visually appealing scene. An artist with tingling nipples and a growing ache between her thighs. An artist thinking about arses and cocks. Not just any old arses and cocks, though. She was one hundred percent consumed with Evan Eaton's manly bits and pieces.

He dashed toward the ocean and charged into the waves, disappearing under them for a moment, only to leap into the air. Again and again, he disappeared and then reappeared as if being reborn from the sea each time.

She hated him, so why did his obvious joy warm her from the inside out? And why was she mesmerized by him and aching for a full view of his nakedness?

"Art. Art. Art." Perchance if she said it enough times, she'd convince herself. "Art!"

As the sun dipped below the horizon, her canvas darkened until Evan eventually disappeared into the inky seascape.

Somehow, she knew he still splashed about in those waves, and she fought an overwhelming ache to seek him out. Instead, she waited.

Once she was certain he'd left the beach, she fled toward town and dashed up the front stairs of The Crown Jewel.