Page 16 of The No Good Irresistible Viscount Tipton
“Yes, and more,” was his ambiguous reply.
Everything was going to be fine now. Relief was almost as heady as the wine she had sipped. “I cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am. Doran will be thrilled to learn that you are willing to—”
“No.”
His adamant refusal threw her off balance. Did he not just promise to help? Mentally regrouping, she considered her options, deciding to attack with guilt. “Without your help, Doran Claeg is going to die.”
“I never said I would not help.” Taking advantage of her stunned silence, he continued. “There have been a few changes in your plan.”
“What changes?”
He leaned close enough for her to smell the wine on his hot breath. “I’ve thrown out your plan and come up with one of my own.”
Devona was too flustered by his announcement to react to the light kiss he placed on her temple before he pulled back. “It was a good plan!”
“No, it wasn’t. I warned you before that the odds were not in Claeg’s favor. What I have in mind isn’t as dramatic, but your friend has a better chance of surviving.”
The ball might have been in another country as far as Devona was concerned. All of her attention was focused on Rayne. “When do we start?”
“Why, Devona, we already have.”
She thought for a moment. “Your emergence back into society.”
“You are a clever woman. Sometimes too clever, eh?”
She ignored his taunt, considering the gesture magnanimous, since he did all but tweak her nose. “So you attend a few balls, renew your membership at the clubs. How does that help Doran?”
“You are picking at threads, thus missing the grander scheme. You want me to help Claeg. Well, position is power, Miss Bedegrayne. My mother reminded me the other day that I rarely flex it.”
“Your mother?” She gave up all pretense of eating and set her plate aside.
“Lord Tipton shoulders a certain authority that a mere surgeon cannot hope to achieve.”
What he proposed staggered her. She had begged his help, and not only was he giving it, but he also was making plans to change his life to achieve it. “It was not my intention to force you back into a life you abhor. I thought your skills in medicine could—”
“It is done.”
Like a magician, he waved his hand, encouraging her to view the new world he had created just for her. Nerves started skipping along her spine while she instinctively searched for a means to escape.
“The real question is,” he continued in a husky drawl, “are you willing to pay the price for my services?”
