Page 13 of The No Good Irresistible Viscount Tipton
Oz raised his hand to a companion in the distance. “My dear, you have been very naughty if my sources tell the truth.”
“What have you heard?”
“Which drama shall I repeat?” he whispered back in mock horror.
She closed her eyes. “Do your worst.”
“I heard you were brawling with Lady Claeg,” he said, his brows lifting, daring her to deny it.
“Old news, Oz. The woman hates me.” Devona held her chin up, but the tremor in her lower lip ruined her haughty effect. She had never been hated by anyone.
Seeing her distress, Oz gave her a sympathetic pat on the hand. “Never mind Glenda Claeg. She would despise anyone who could take her son away from her. Speaking of Doran, how is he holding up?”
“Weary. Desperate. Fearful. Like everyone else behind that gate.” Thinking of Doran made Devona feel guilty for being here, enjoying the music and the people around her.
“Have you had a chance to think on my suggestion? Any luck finding a surgeon?”
“I made some inquiries,” she said carefully, noting her sister was moving in their direction. “I approached Lord Tipton. Do you know him?”
“Only by reputation.” Oz’s face took on a mien of concern. “Tipton,” he said, under his breath. “Devona, when I suggested that you find a surgeon to help Doran, I meant someone not so notorious. Dangerous. Your name is already linked with him.”
“Doran needed the best. Lord Tipton is that man. He saved my life, Oz. Everyone will forget that part, and turn his heroic gesture into something sordid.”
“I hear your brother is prepared to call him out.”
“Just wishful thinking on Brock’s side. None of it matters anyway. Lord Tipton refused to help.”
Oz’s next words were interrupted by Irene’s appearance at their sides.
“Mr. Lockwood, you must cease from monopolizing my sister’s attention, else there will be rumors that you are ready for the parson’s mousetrap.”
“Irene, please.” It had been wishful thinking that she could endure an evening under her sister’s direction without being mortified. “Mr. Lockwood has injured his leg and is content to remain at my side and listen to the music. There is no need to harass the poor man.”
Oz, always prepared to charm a lady out of the sulks, gallantly kissed Irene’s hand. “Viscountess, ignore this ungrateful child. How can a man be poor when surrounded by such beauty?”
Devona practically rolled her eyes at how easily her sister fell for the bait meant to distract her. “Did you have need of me, Irene?” she asked, thinking to spare Oz further torment.
Irene blinked, momentarily confused by the question. “Oh, Lord Nevin was searching for you. He thought he might escort you to supper.”
“Hmm.” She had neatly turned the conversation back to Irene’s quest for finding her a proper husband.
“Why is it,” she whispered to Oz, loud enough for her sister to hear, “that every married person is not content until the rest of us are as tightly leg shackled as they are?”
Irene took her comment seriously. “Is this why you have been acting so recklessly? Do you use it as a means to escape marriage?”
Devona could not resist teasing her. “Marriage is like being trapped in prison.”
“Where do you get these notions?”
“Well, it is a life sentence, is it not?” Her sister was staring at her as if she had just crossed her eyes at the king. Oz coughed, trying to conceal his merriment behind his hand.
Devona’s eyes gave her away. Irene’s narrowed, looking so much like their mother. “I do not understand how Wynne tolerates your jests.” Prepared to make a dramatic exit, she spoiled it by touching her stomach. “Oh.”
Instantly contrite, Devona put her arm around Irene. “What is it? The babe?”
Her face went white. “Yes. No. The babe is making me ill.”
“Come then, I will help you to a room so you may rest. Oz—er, Mr. Lockwood?” Devona looked to him to make their apologies, but he was staring at something beyond them. She followed his gaze and could not credit the sight. Lord Tipton had just entered the room.
