Page 25 of The No Good Irresistible Viscount Tipton
He expected he would have the entire group of Bedegrayne males pounding on his door, demanding their chance to put a bullet in him. These demands for his death were starting to get tedious. Devona, too, would be quite upset by the turn of events. In typical fashion, she would set the blame on her shoulders. What she did not understand was that he never did anything without a purpose. Having her in his arms for the polite world to behold only quickened his plans. No, this could have not worked out any better, he mused.
They made their way through the crowd. Devona pressed her face into Rayne’s neck, trying to pretend that the entire world was not watching her scandalous departure.
“I will be calling on your father on the morrow. Tell him to expect me.” His deep voice rumbled in his throat, tickling her nose.
“I will do no such thing, my lord.”
A woman from the crowd stepped forward. “Miss Bedegrayne, I shall call upon you when you are well!” she called out to the departing couple.
“Meddlesome woman,” Devona mumbled. “She wants to be first in line to gossip.”
Eyes straight ahead, he cleaved his way cleanly through the guests. “Gossip is the least of your worries.”
Oz Lockwood came forward, then kept pace with Rayne’s stride, since he was not in the mood to stop and chat. “Devona, I heard what happened. Are you hurt badly?”
“Nothing serious, Oz. I will be fit in a week, I swear.”
Oz nodded absently, then glared at Rayne for doing his best to lose him in the wake of guests. His frown becoming more pronounced, he grudgingly inquired, “Tipton, anything I can do to assist?”
“Yes, get out of my way.”
“Ooph!” Devona stared back at Oz, who had given up. She mouthed an apology. He shrugged and turned away. “That was beyond rude, Lord Tipton!”
“The man irritates me.”
They were almost to the front hall. “I consider him a friend. All he wanted to do was help.” She saw Lord Nevin when she and Rayne passed one of the open side rooms being used for cards. If Nevin was surprised to see her in Rayne’s arms, his expression never revealed it. He lifted a hand in farewell.
“This is too embarrassing, by far.”
“I will remedy it, when I call on your father tomorrow.”
“Listen to me, you high-handed tyrant. I—” Her argument for the moment was forgotten when her attention fell on an older woman dressed in various hues of brown. Rayne had halted their progress so Wynne could collect their outer garments. Perplexed, Devona watched the woman. The woman looked somewhat familiar. A friend of her mother’s perhaps?
“Let’s not fuss about donning the cloaks. I would rather we just leave,” she heard Wynne state.
“Allow me to follow you home.”
“Thank you, Lord Tipton. An extra measure of security would be welcomed,” Wynne warmly said. They were moving again, almost out the door. The woman in brown turned, giving Devona an opportunity to see her face.
Good Lord, it was Lady Claeg!
***
“Truly, Devona. Lady Claeg, an assassin? Do you spend time pondering these insane thoughts or do they just pop into your head?”
Wynne pulled the drapes open. The morning sun filled the room. Dust whirled and danced on the incoming beams of light. Soon it would take the edge off the morning chill. “I thought after a night’s repose, you would view the incident differently. I should have known better.”
Devona kicked the blanket covering her down to the foot of her bed. This was not the first time they had had this discussion. She had mentioned it once in the carriage ride home last evening, again when a maid and Wynne had helped her undress and tucked her into bed, and now this morning. Her sister was no closer to believing her than she was last evening.
“The woman hates me, Wynne. She thinks I have somehow corrupted Doran. Perhaps she was the woman I heard in the balcony. When she saw me below, she could not resist.” She tried to sit up, but Wynne pushed her back into the pillows.
Wynne chuckled. “So while she was rendezvousing with her latest lover, she decided to complete the evening with a murder attempt. You are a strange woman, Sister.”
A mutinous expression clouded her face. “She is strong enough to have pushed one of those statues over.”
“And has a face like a horse, too. Who would ever steal her away and kiss her in dark corners? Give it up, Sister. I cannot fathom Lady Claeg is guilty of either charge.”
“Lord Tipton seemed to consider the idea.”
