Page 15 of The Rake Desires the Diamond

There’d also been the time he’d sneaked into his headmaster’s room and placed a sketch of the grumpy arse squatting over a chamberpot, in his chamberpot. Evan had still been skulking around Smoothers’s room when he’d returned from chapel early. When the door opened, Evan had dropped to the floor and crawled under his instructor’s bed. Hours later, he’d awoken to the headmaster bellowing, “Evan Eaton, you bloody fool. I know this was you.”

It was only after Smoothers had stomped into the hallway waving the sketch about that Evan had been able to crawl out from under the bed and escape.

Sitting behind an easel in this dusty closet, or secret room, or whatever the hell this place was, right outside the library, while listening to Katrina and Springy discuss the weather, with a maid perched on a nearby chair reading and chaperoning, deserved a ribbon for stupidity. There was no way they would pull off this farce.

He may not be able to see much, and their voices may have been muffled, but he knew Katrina batted her lashes as hervoice danced up and down the female vocal scale, tapping into delight one moment and surprise the next. Her words were sweet as sheohhandahhed with interest. Although Evan only experienced her ire, she knew how to make a man feel special. And for some reason, this vexed him.

Oh, he might like her blue eyes and golden hair. And she smelled heavenly. His balls ached at the memory of the purring sound she made when being kissed. Sure, there was that soft, sweet voice, and her dresses were the height of fashion. Yes, he enjoyed the way her bottom lip stuck out when she pouted. She had such plump, pretty lips. Really quite lovely lips. If she ever smiled at him, he’d probably like that. But since that had never happened, it was hard to know for sure.

But the way in which she stared through him with her nose in the air irked him.

Then her eyes had widened in horror, and she’d paled when Greyson had whispered in her ear. Despite how she treated Evan, he did not enjoy witnessing that pain or knowing he might be the reason behind it.

Her tinkling laugh traveled across the room and through the thin wall, tickling its way to his heart and knocking the breath from his lungs.

Frigging bollocks. Did he have feelings for Katrina Harrington?

He moaned. It did not matter if he did. She was off limits. His best mate’s sister. Courting his other best mate. Her older brother, the influential Duke of Astleyshire, hated him, and she was his sister’s sister-in-law. And then there was the bitter truth. She detested him.

Now that Greyson knew their secret, Evan had to keep his distance. If the marquess was blackmailing theton’ssweetheart, what was to keep him from blackmailing a third son of an earl? However, blackmailing Evan might be pointless since everyone already knew he liked to seduce women. No secrets on his end. Until Katrina.

Evan stood, stretched his arms to the ceiling, then stomped the length of the oppressive room. Five steps. Five bloody steps to get from the door to the peephole.

He probably shouldn’t stomp. If he could hear them, they could hear him. He exhaled frustration as he pressed his eye to the hole.

Damnation. The woman was beautiful. Dozens of pearl hairpins held her coiffure’s intricate loops and twists in place. A pearl necklace adorned her delicate neck and soft shoulders. The neckline of her pink gown was a bit modest for his taste, but when a woman was as beautiful as her, she didn’t need to flaunt herdécolletage.

Hell’s bells! What in the hell kind of missish nonsense was that? He loved breasts. Big. Small. Black. White. Tan. Delightfully delicious breasts and perky nipples were his favorite thing in the entire world. So he needed to slap sense into himself. If he weren’t careful, he’d soon grow his very own tits and vagina.

Speaking of vaginas… Maybe tits were his second favorite thing.

“Buttons,” Katrina said. “What are you doing here? Anna said you planned to spend the afternoon exploring Brighton.”

Buttons, looking quite dashing in a finely cut tailcoat, strolled across the room, planted himself behind Wellspring, and stared at the canvas.

Frigging bollocks! The damn nosey butler had been following Wellspring about since the picnic. And now he would ruin everything.

Evan cringed, then waited. Any second now, Buttons should gasp, betraying the truth—Wellspring painted like a three-year-old.

“Hmm.” Buttons tilted his head from side to side.

Wellspring flung his hands in front of the painting. Paint from the brush in his hand splattered. He looked down at the yellow splotches dotting his moments ago pristine waistcoat.

Damnation. Only an amateur would wear such a fine garment to paint.

“I am sorry, my lord,” Buttons said. “How terribly rude of me to barge in. I am afraid being a guest has made me quite bold and made me forget my station. I shall get the paint out of your coat.”

“Harrington insists you be treated as a guest,” Wellspring said, looping an arm around Buttons’s shoulder and guiding him away from the painting. “But my work is not ready to present yet.”

Buttons gasped at Wellspring’s touch. How odd.

Even more strange, Wellspring cleared his throat, withdrew his arm immediately, and stepped away.

Meanwhile, paying no attention to the men, Katrina spoke with the maid.

“Please, my lord, allow me to see to your waistcoat,” Buttons said. “It would ease my conscience for ruining it.” The butler held out his hand.

“As you wish.” The earl slid out of his vest.