Page 40 of The No Good Irresistible Viscount Tipton
“Still you defend him! I cannot decide who is crazier, you, him, or me for being here.” Wynne’s tone all but dripped sarcasm.
“An interesting observation. Shall we put it to a vote?” Tipton asked, surprising the little group with his unexpected appearance. Pearl shrieked and ducked for imaginary cover.
Devona was the first to recover. Moving quickly to keep the distance between Doran and Rayne, she tried to think of some intelligent reason for her presence. The subtle tightening of Tipton’s jaw told her he was not going to believe she was on a charitable mission. “My lord, you move in the oddest circles.”
He opened his arms, and she went willingly into his embrace. “Another thing we share in common, my love.”
***
“I do not think Amara is going to ever forgive you and Brock for treating her no better than trussed-up game,” Devona said, not liking the silence between them. The evening had not gone as she had planned. Doran was still in Newgate, Amara was so furious she was speaking to no one, and Devona’s own thoughts of a reprieve quickly faded when Rayne announced to her siblings that he would see her home. Neither Wynne nor Brock objected, so here she was at midnight, sipping brandy in his study. Even Speck was suspiciously absent.
“I do not particularly care if Miss Claeg ever deems to forgive me. Your brother handled her with gentler hands than I would have. He seems to have a soft spot for wide-eyed doves.” He absently twirled the contents of his glass.
Devona blinked. “Doves?”
“Never mind. A private joke.” He set his glass down on the table. “Forget your brother. Let’s talk about your adventure.”
It took every ounce of her will not to give in to the desire to rub the prickled hairs on the back of her neck. She would have preferred it if he yelled at her. This composed mask he wore made her uneasy. “I do not know what else there is to say. Having Brock lecturing me all the way back to the Dodds’ ball has made me ill set on the subject.”
An unholy gleam lit his face. Some might have called it humor, but she could not begin to fathom what he considered amusing this evening. “Indulge me.”
She used the toe of her slipper to toy with the rug. “I can assume you are not pleased.”
“Your instincts are correct. Would you like to tell me the why of it?”
“The devil take you, Tipton!” she raged, overwhelming exasperation outweighing self-preservation. “You are not my father. I do not have to sit here and be chastised.”
“On the contrary, my fiery temptress, you gave me that right when you accepted my betrothal.”
“There would be no need for a betrothal if you had allowed me to carry out my plan.” There was no point mentioning that their arguing had drawn the attention of the guard.
Rayne stilled. “Is that why you risked you life? To escape tying yourself to me?”
Devona met his gaze. His features were unreadable, yet she sensed his impatience for her reply. “You make it sound like I am the sacrificial virgin for the funeral pyre.” She laughed, but she could not even coax a smile from him. “See here, Tipton, you were willing to betroth yourself to me to help me save Doran.”
“And to protect you from harm,” he softly added.
Flustered, she glanced away. “Well, yes.…” She cleared her throat. “I thought I had hit upon a plan that would benefit everyone. Truly, you cannot want to marry me?”
Rayne did not answer her question. Instead, he cocked his head, giving her a considering stare. “You might have been able to pull it off, if you could have kept your sister and Claeg from tearing at each other.”
The bubble of disappointment within her rose and burst. What had she expected? A declaration of love from Rayne? He might have a soft spot for her recklessness, but he was too scarred by his past to allow more than mild sentiment to guide him. She shrugged. “Wynne has never understood my relationship with Doran.”
“Or she has understood it too well.”
She motioned her hands in a mock surrender. “Not you, too?”
Rayne dismissed the question by swallowing some of his brandy. “If Wynne has not been able to convince you, then I will not waste my time. Woefully, the man is at the heart of the matter. As the only trained surgeon in our little group, I intend to do what I do best.” He swallowed the remaining brandy. “Do you know what that is?”
“Not exactly.”
With the grace of a stretching lion he pulled himself up and sat on his haunches beside her. “I am cutting him out of your life.”
Before she could form a reasonable retort, he stroked her ankle, distracting her. It was working. A line of tingles traveled up her body, escaping with the shudder of her shoulders. “I—um…”
He smiled, a bone-melting smile that made her feel as fluid as a pot of face cream. “Shall I share the details of my plan? Something you neglected to do for me.”
She refused to feel guilty for deceiving him. When she tried to pull her leg out of his reach, he tightened his hold. “You would have locked me up in this study if you had known what I was planning.”
