Page 70 of The No Good Irresistible Viscount Tipton
“Irene wants to show thetonthat your marriage has the family’s support. I can assume your husband is trying to amend the distance he has placed between himself and the polite world. It is an admirable gesture to protect you and your children from being ostracized as he once was.”
Agitated, Devona paced the room. “It is more than that. I can feel it in my bones.”
“You cannot still believe that Lady Claeg is behind that accident at the conservatory?”
“I saw her that night. The woman probably blames me for Doran’s death.” The lie was becoming easier to say with practice.
“She has Amara and her position in society to consider. No, I think you are wrong,” Wynne said dismissingly.
Tipton was up to something; Devona was certain of it. Nothing would convince her that the Bedegrayne family could meekly lead her husband around like he was a child’s pony. He had agreed to the ball because he hoped to lure their mischief maker out in the open. She feared she and Tipton were the bait.
***
Behind locked doors a figure hunched over a writing desk, feverishly scribbling the news of the ball to honor the Tiptons. The letter would be of interest to the receiver. Its purpose was to inform, as per their bargain, but also to taunt.
The receiver thought the position of power was their own. Untrue. A correction would be made at the appropriate time. Only a weaker individual would hire someone to do their misdeeds. The true power was possessed by the messenger; the figure was certain of this.
It was a simple task to watch Lady Tipton from a distance. There were too many around guarding her to act. Lord Tipton’s feeble attempts to protect her were a nuisance and at times entertaining. The figure accepted the challenge. A special trap had been created for the elusive Lady Tipton. And Lord Tipton, too. His interference would be recognized and punished.
The figure sat back, satisfied with the letter. It was an announcement and a warning. It was a pity the receiver was too dim-witted to appreciate the complexity of its true meaning.
The fiend would devour them all.
***
Carriages and pedestrians congested the streets surrounding the Suttons’ residence. According to Irene, this declared her ball an instant success.
“I told you everyone would be too curious about you and Tipton to refuse an invitation,” Irene murmured, her blue eyes twinkling like the deep blue sapphire and diamond necklace she wore around her neck. “It is amazing how the correct presentation can whitewash even the darkest reputation.”
Devona wrinkled her nose in an unladylike manner. “Tipton did not create a scandal. He just did not care what the polite world thought of him.”
“Truly, Devona, you are a married woman. You must remember that your position in society is always tenuous. How you conduct yourself is constantly scrutinized.”
Devona bit her lower lip; otherwise she was going to tell her sister where society could stuff their judgmental opinions. If Devona had listened to any of them, she would have never dared to approach Tipton. She doubted her sister would appreciate the observation.
“Irene, perhaps you should put all of this wisdom down in a book.” She smiled and waved at her father. “I might even read it.
“Papa! Irene managed to lure you from your clubs. It is a miracle to be sure.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Brock promised to show up as well.”
“Applied an ample dosing of guilt, eh?” Sir Thomas Bedegrayne gathered each daughter in his arms and gave them an affectionate squeeze.
Devona gave one of his side-whiskers a playful tug. “Only just enough.”
“It is good to see you, Papa,” Irene said, stepping away from his embrace. “You and Sutton are not permitted to hide in the card room for the evening. Devona, you are expected to circulate. Where is your husband?”
“He was delayed by a patient. He will be along soon.”
“Excellent. Was his sister terribly upset not to be included tonight?”
Irene was already being distracted by a new arrival, but she answered the question anyway. “Maddy made a token protest. I think she plans to spend the night playing cards with Speck.”
“Who?” Irene asked, confused by the two different ongoing conversations. “Oh, that’s nice, dear.” And she returned to the other participant.
“Come along, Papa. You should really see this champagne fountain. If everyone drinks this flowing river, thetonshould be positively sloppy with affection for Tipton.”
The hours swept by and despite the crush Devona was enjoying herself. She had lost track of her husband again, but she suspected her father had lured him and Brock into the card room. Irene had been correct. Presentation was important. Serve Tipton up with pineapples, champagne, and syllabub and he would suddenly be hailed as a long-lost friend.
“Greetings, Lady Tipton. You are enchanting this evening.”
