Page 57 of The No Good Irresistible Viscount Tipton
“Rayne!”
Hatred burned bright, but she remained composed. “You are master of Foxenclover, my lord.”
Intrigued and perhaps slightly disappointed by the lack of the tantrum he had expected, Tipton cocked his head to the side, considering her as if she were a pawn on a chessboard. “You would not try to stop me, girl?”
“Madeleina.”
The quiet correction had him stalling. “I beg your pardon?”
His sister met his cold gaze, matching it. “I have a name. It is Madeleina.”
Noting the heightened color in her husband’s face, Devona piped, “You have such a beautiful name. Do they call you Maddy?”
“Only my friends.”
The meaning was clear. They were not counted as her friends. How could she blame the girl? Tipton had all but promised to destroy something she cherished. It had to be some record. He managed to alienate his sister with the first words out of his mouth.
“Well, Madeleina,” he spoke the words as if they were foreign to his tongue, “you have not answered my question. How would you stop me?”
She flinched at the question, but she stood her ground. “What would you have me say, sir? I am young, poor, and female. You hold the advantage.” She turned to head for her maze.
“I have not dismissed you, girl!”
Madeleina glanced back. “Yes, you have, my lord. The moment you knew of my existence.” With that parting shot she ran, losing herself in her maze.
***
Rayne had managed to get Jocelyn to join them for supper. He would not tell Devona he had used threats to gain her cooperation. His lady wife did not appreciate his technique for handling his family. That was obvious from the way she had protected his sister. You would have thought the girl was her own, the way she had hovered protectively around her. No, gaining his demands without upsetting Devona would take cunning.
“What did you say to Madeleina? She refused to take supper at the table again,” his mother asked, the first words she had bothered to utter since their private discussion.
“Perhaps she is ill?”
Rayne gave his wife a wry grin. He assumed she considered him the weaker opponent of this battle, or maybe she disliked his mother as much as he. Either way, he appreciated Devona’s attempts to distract the dowager from her quarry.
His mother sniffed, dismissing the question. “My daughter is never ill. Despite her penchant for living outdoors, I have managed to persuade her over the years to attend me at the table.” Her faded brow lifted inquiringly at him.
“It appears your lessons have not taken, madam.” He would be damned if he allowed her to manipulate the girl’s absence as his fault. “Like all animals, I am certain when she is hungry she will leave her cover to feed.”
Outrage mottled Jocelyn’s face. He waited, half-expecting lava to drip from her ears after the eruption.
“Madeleina is a lovely, sweet child. How dare you? She is no animal!”
“I do not think—,” Devona began, but was cut off with a look.
“I do not care if you do or do not think, madam!” the dowager seethed.
“Silence!” Rayne slammed his fist on the table, the rattle of plates and silver echoing his annoyance. “My wife is off-limits, Jocelyn. You need to chew on something, I am certain Cook can serve you a satisfying bone. Or choose me, if you like.” The smile he gave her was voracious.
“Since we are drawing battle lines, then I insist that your sister be left alone. You have managed thus far to ignore her existence. I wish you would continue to do so.”
“Concern, Mother?” he mocked. “I never suspected there was this maternal side to you.”
The dowager did not bother to respond to the barb. Instead, she held his gaze and distinctly said, “Madeleina is not like you or I. If anything, she takes after your grandmother.”
The comparison made him feel uncomfortable, so he rejected it. He credited his grandmother for anything soft inside him. To consider his sister in the same manner meant that his treatment of her was as cruel as their mother’s of him. Defensive, he struck out, “How do you expect any man to take her off your hands? You have allowed her to work outdoors like a common field laborer. Her skin is as dark as a woman from Calcutta and she had dirt under her fingernails. Has she had any schooling or has she spent her entire life scampering outdoors learning her lessons from the deer and hares?”
Devona burst out laughing, the tone a little on the high and nervous side. “Really, Tipton. You almost made me choke on my pheasant. I know you two derive great pleasure from needling each other, but I spoke to Madeleina. She seemed an intelligent, thoughtful child who has worked magic on the grounds. That maze of hers is spectacular. I can only imagine what she could do if she had some gardeners to help her maintain it. I doubt she could help the dirt under her nails or the tanning of her skin under the circumstances. She is truly an artist. Her canvas is outside, for heaven’s sake!”
