Page 7 of The No Good Irresistible Viscount Tipton
“You heartless whore! He is going to die because of your greed.” Lady Claeg sobbed, drawing the attention of those around them.
Devona shook off Gar’s grip, stepping in front of Lady Claeg when she would have walked away. Triumphant in the public assassination of her adversary’s character, the older woman was more than willing to dismiss her. It would have been better to let Lady Claeg walk away. Devona knew that and would have agreed with that direction later, after she had had a chance to settle her emotions. Unfortunately for the Claegs, Devona felt she had peeled off enough flesh on their behalf for one day.
“Madam, if you please,” she said, with a clipped tone.
“Miss Bedegrayne,” Pearl pleaded, recognizing the look in her lady’s eyes.
“I have nothing to say, Miss Bedegrayne. Come, Amara.”
Devona blocked their escape. “Good. I do. You are so willing to lay this tragedy at my feet, and I have taken it.” Her voice hitched at the sudden lump in her throat. “Maybe I deserve every slur you have uttered. However, consider this. Perhaps if Doran had had the support of his family, he would have never resolved his problems by falling in with a criminal element.”
Lady Claeg’s lips moved, her face becoming mottled with an unattractive shade of purple. “My son is innocent!”
“Possibly. More telling is Lord Claeg’s disowning of his second son, do you not think?”
The slap Lady Claeg delivered snapped Devona’s head to the left, knocking her bonnet askew. Dazed with pain and shock, she wondered if she would have ducked the attack if she had anticipated it. Her hands automatically were reaching to repair the damage.
“You will pay for your treachery. I will see to it!” The older woman whirled around, a hostile flurry of black bombazine. Amara, her eyes full of shock, met Devona’s for a second, then turned away, hurrying after her mother.
Certain the encounter would soon reach the ears of thetonand, more important, her father’s, Devona chose the opposite direction to escape. Unshed tears of fury filled her eyes. How could she have been so foolish as to have allowed that selfish, cruel woman to goad her into fighting back? So blinded by her thoughts, she collided into someone.
“My apologies,” she murmured, trying to disengage from the man’s embrace. Firm hands held her by her upper arms, refusing to release her. She lifted her head, prepared to scream. Her eyes widened in recognition. “Lord Tipton.”
“‘Mr. Tipton’ does me just fine, Miss Bedegrayne,” he corrected. His gaze searched her face, finally settling on the red handprint on her face. A fine muscle in his jaw jumped, then tensed. “That woman hurt you. What is her name?”
He looked so fierce, yet his voice was gentle, coaxing. Seeing his face for the first time in daylight, Devona noted his eyes were not really pewter, but the lightest blue she had ever seen. She fought an irresistible urge to lay her hand against his cheek and soothe the anger her tart mouth had placed there.
“I deserved the slap and more, although I wish there was some manner of preventing my father from learning this.”
“Why? Are you concerned about what your father will do to this woman?”
Rayne truly was outraged on Devona’s behalf. His hands on her arms vibrated with suppressed violence. She had been defending her actions for so long that his simple acceptance of her being in the right without question left her breathless and weak. She was halfway in love with him for his faith alone. Giving in to the urge to smile, she winced at the pain. “Lady Claeg is safe from my father. I dread the matching handprint he’ll place on my backside for disobeying him.”
Still not releasing her, Rayne stared at her, his pale blue eyes impaling the simple lighthearted defense she had erected to prevent herself from giving in to the urge to press her face against his coat and cry. “If you were mine… uh… my daughter”— the tension in his features increased as he fumbled his words—“I would punish the person who dared to strike you.”
“Mr. Tipton!” a man some distance away called out, and waved.
“Damn.” Rayne shook himself as if he just realized where he and Devona were and how he was holding her. Carefully, he loosened his grip and took a step back. “I have a promise to keep. I must go.” He sent Gar a look, sizing the man up quickly. Apparently liking what he saw, he gave the footman a nod. “See to it that your lady gets home without further violence.”
“Mr. Tipton, the time.” His acquaintance was almost upon them.
Lord Tipton touched her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I must go. Expect me to call on you tomorrow.”
“No!” The horror in her denial chilled the warmth she had glimpsed in his eyes. It took her a moment to understand her unintentional insult. Instantly contrite, she dug her teeth into her lower lip. “My lord, your card would be most welcome. It is just that no one in my family knows about my troubles, or that I sought out your assistance.”
“And consorting with the likes of me could damage your reputation.”
“You twist my words at my expense, sir. If I worry about anyone’s reputation, I fear for yours.” Nodding her head in his direction, she started for the hackney Gar had secured.
“Mine?” Stunned, Rayne remained rooted to the ground. “Miss Bedegrayne, do you know what I am?” He ignored the persistent man at his side.
She turned back; her stance was challenging. “I know who you are, Lord Tipton,” she said, so softly she was amazed he had heard her.
“There is no Lord Tipton, Miss Bedegrayne. He died fifteen years ago. If he is the man you seek, then your faith is misplaced.” He might as well have kept silent. The woman who had haunted him since she had walked into his life was safely sheltered in the departing coach.
