Page 53 of The No Good Irresistible Viscount Tipton
“Really, Tipton,” Devona chastised behind him. “What purpose does it serve to scare that poor woman half to death?”
“The fact that I can do it,” he replied, aware that his answer would starch up her spine. “Let’s go see who else I can intimidate.”
Entering the front hall, he noted it was clean and extremely bare. His mother, not pleased with her pauper state, must have been selling off the statuary, paintings, and furniture that had once adorned the hall.
“It is quite… large.”
The observation made him smile. It was so Devona. “It looks like it could use some furniture, maybe a few objets d’art. Thievery in the country has become astonishingly bold.”
“I do not perceive this as a problem of boldness, but rather a lack of attentiveness. Particularly yours,” his mother announced from the open doorway to their right. “I was about to have some refreshments. You both may join me.” She retreated into the room, leaving them no choice but to follow her.
“Your mother?” Devona inquired softly.
“Too cheeky to be anyone else. Come, we might as well get this finished.” Rayne crooked his arm and she accepted his silent offer by placing her hand on his arm. They walked side by side to the morning room, presenting a united front. For the first time, he would not be confronting his mother alone.
The room they entered was plainly his mother’s domain. The cream-colored paint appeared fresh, and stenciled flower and vine panels accented the walls. The floor was bare wood, but it was scrubbed. His grandmother’s favorite Indian rug had a place of honor in front of the hearth. He could not conceal the cynical smirk on his face as they passed an Adams pedestal showing off a black basaltware urn. The Dowager Lady Tipton held on to the items that mattered to her and cast aside the ones that did not. His gaze flickered to the finely displayed Wedgwood. Well, it was simple to figure out where she had allocated him.
“I did not know you had a mistress, Rayne. And I cannot fathom why you would bring her here.” His mother sniffed as if breathing the same air as them would cause her harm.
He felt Devona’s muscles tense, preparing for retaliation. He held her in place, not sure how she would react to his mother’s casual insult. His mother had the instinct to judge her enemy and attack the weakest. At least he knew he came by his own gift for ruthlessness honestly.
“Madam, this house and land belong to me. I may do whatever I like. Sadly, you cannot say the same.”
Eyes, a weary and older version of his own, narrowed. “I will not sit here and allow you to flaunt your whore in front of me. Not in front of Madeleina. Leave this house.”
“Lady Tipton”—Devona stepped forward before Rayne could tell his mother what he thought of her mandate—“there has been a misunderstanding that I would like to rectify before one of you says something you will regret.”
The older woman exhaled a harsh sound that could have been laughter. “I have never regretted anything I have ever said.”
Devona moved away from Rayne and sat on the sofa beside his mother. “That is just pride speaking.” She glanced at her husband. “Something I am certain you both have in common.”
“Rayne, this is utterly priceless. A philosophical highflyer. Wherever did you find this creature?” she asked, her false interest tainted by sarcasm.
“Enough!” Rayne shouted, his temper slipping its leash. “If you show nothing less than the proper respect due mywife,you and your daughter will find yourselves living in a cottage so small that you will have to entertain outdoors. Do I make myself clear?”
“So typical, Tipton.” Devona’s disapproval was a tangible wave that rose and crashed against his anger. “Only you could turn a simple wedding announcement into a threat!”
The cup and saucer in his mother’s hands rattled. She carefully returned them to the cart. “Marriage. You married your mistress?”
“Miss Devona Bedegrayne was never any man’s mistress. To insinuate otherwise will risk my displeasure. Poke at me if you must, but keep away from my wife.”
His mother seemed to physically deflate before them. Her lips trembled as she tried to find her balance. “Why are you here? Certainly not for my blessing!”
Misunderstanding his mother’s distress and bitterness, Devona tried once again to salvage their first meeting. “Eloping the way we did, there was no time to get the families together—”
The announcement seemed to shock Jocelyn back into her old self. “You eloped to Gretna Green? Now it all makes sense. What did you do, Rayne? Spawn a bastard in her belly so her family had no choice but to sacrifice her to Le Cadavre Raffiné?”
Devona’s hands clutched her reticule so tightly her fingers were white. She abruptly stood. “I do not care who you are. You have no right to speak of Rayne in that manner. Your son is an intelligent, wonderfully kind man. I married him quite willingly. I can only assume he received his character from his father, since I have never met such a mean-spirited creature, with the mothering instinct of a snake!”
“Devona.” Rayne tried to draw her away from his mother.
His mother, never one to place herself at a disadvantage, rose from her seat. “Legal or not, my opinion of your lady has not been swayed. You and your whore may leave this house at once!”
Rayne’s foot shot out, kicking the cart over, shattering his mother’s favorite tea set into fragments. The sound brought the housekeeper scurrying into the room.
“I heard a horrible noise,” the servant began, looking about the room until her gaze settled on the overturned cart. “Oh, madam, not the Worcester?”
Rayne answered, since he finally had managed to silence his mother’s rabid tongue. “Regrettably so, Miss…?”
