Page 22 of The No Good Irresistible Viscount Tipton
SIX
“Tipton.” Brock sneered, the cards in his hand forgotten. “You look the very devil. If I had known you were in need of Hell’s Gate, I would have reserved you a seat.” The men around him snickered.
The seedy gaming hell off Drury Lane lured all types of young bloods and criminals, daring to wager their fortunes and their lives at the turn of the cards. Tired whores postured around the room, hoping to earn their night fees once lightened purses and drunken senses pushed the men from the tables and into their beds.
Rayne thought Brock appeared too well acquainted with the hazy atmosphere. All a man needed here was a good hand, a tankard never empty, and a warm, friendly doxy cooing in his lap. Rayne could recall such times when he and his friend Dr. Sir Wallace Brogden had sailed around the world on theGriffin’s Claw.Years ago, such idle decadence seemed satisfying. Now, Rayne considered it a waste of a keen mind.
Despite the rumpled clothes and red-rimmed eyes, Brock was probably drowning in boredom. Rayne recognized all the signs of the waiting heir with nothing to do or prove in his life. Except Brock was not exactly looking bored at the moment.
“I thought you’d like to see firsthand that your efforts to kill me failed.” Ten hours had passed since Devona had run from his town house. Bed and physic had improved his health. The fever was gone, replaced by a weakness that sank right into his bones. Rayne ignored it. Anger and a few other emotions he cared not to analyze kept him on his feet. He tightened his grip on his walking stick, trying not to show the group before him that he needed it.
Brock noted the slight sway in Rayne’s stance. “You’re drunk,” he said, dismissing him.
His reply was to hook the front leg of Brock’s chair and tip him on his snotty ass. Several of the men jumped to their feet, prepared to fight. Rayne held them in place with a glare. “This is between me and him. Let him be a man for once.”
“If I didn’t have reason to kill you before, by God, I do now!” Brock tried to roll over to gain his footing again.
Rayne held him in place with the sharp point of his stick. Sweat beaded on his forehead, an affirmation of the toll of his actions. “You tried. And failed.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“A pity. Let me help you with your memory. When your own father would not support your desire to challenge me, you took it upon yourself to arrange a little accident. Pinning me in the coach would have worked if you had had a few more pistols. Lucky for me, besides being a coward, you lack brains as well.”
Stunned, the younger man just stared at him, then loudly exhaled. “You think I am responsible?”
Brock’s outrage was palpable. Rayne felt the first seeds of doubt. “You have voiced more than once your desire for my death.”
“A duel, sir. For my honor and my sister’s. I could maim you and be satisfied. Killing you would only inconvenience me.”
Rayne removed the stick he had pressed into Brock’s throat. The man rolled over, pulling himself to his feet. “You might discover that trying to maim me is equally inconvenient,” Rayne promised silkily. He indulged in a slight smile when Brock acknowledged the threat with a shaky nod of the head. “Where is Devona?”
Pride still strong, the younger man snorted. “If I knew, you would be the last I’d tell.”
“Then think on this. She was beside me at the garden when that carriage tried to drive us underground.”
“And it was you who was shot at later on. It sounds like someone is trying to kill you, Tipton. If he succeeds, he has my thanks.” Brock spat on the floor between them.
“Your sister has her own enemies. She might share that danger, Bedegrayne. Whether you can stomach the notion or not, I shall be close. Very close,” he said, giving in to the temptation to provoke the man.
Brock did not disappoint him. “You are the fucking devil’s own, aren’t you?”
“You know what they say, Bedegrayne. When you trifle at Hell’s Gate, you are embracing all sorts of demons.”
***
The conservatory was almost vacant when Devona arrived. Most of the guests had moved toward the front of the house, choosing dancing and cards to entertain them. She took her time, her kid slippers barely making a sound on the tiled floor as she admired the impressive conservatory.
It was a large structure. Glass and metal-framed walls with plaster columns holding up the ornate ceiling. Awed with the workmanship, she gazed up at the painted ceiling of a celestial battle of good and evil. The duchess obviously had an indulgent husband. Above the entrance there was a balcony, opening into the second story. Tangled vines draped the brick balcony like an old woman’s comfortable shawl. Devona tilted her head back and stood on her toes to identify the statues. Fat cherubs. Very lovely. This was a marvelous sanctuary.
Laughter from above had her stepping out of view. She peered up, at a rustling sound; only the vines and a lifted leg of one of the marble cherubs were visible. Confident she would not be seen, Devona sat on the wooden bench next to her.
“No, no, you mustn’t,” a woman from somewhere nearby moaned. “Even here, there are too many eyes and ears, my darling.”
Devona covered her mouth with her hand to prevent them from hearing her laugh. She doubted the woman would be pleased to know how accurate her statement was. The man’s murmur was indiscernible, yet Devona was enough of a romantic to guess he was trying to convince the woman to remain. Under the reflective glow of the four chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, this would be a wonderful place to be kissed by a beloved.
A couple appeared from the back of the conservatory, the lady struggling to put her curls back in place. Devona smiled at them as they passed. They entered the library and she was alone again. Well, she amended, except for the heavy breathers on the balcony.
She had been kissed a few times, not even counting the devastating kiss Rayne had pressed onto her lips. She enjoyed the balls for the dancing, the crush of people, and the gaiety. It had never occurred to her to drag one of her dancing companions into the secluded flora and be kissed senseless. Devona eyed the room with a new appreciation. She would have to ask Wynne if she had ever enjoyed such a tryst.
