Page 68 of The No Good Irresistible Viscount Tipton
Maddy slipped her arm around his, and he locked his arm around her shoulders. Brogden took a few fortifying breaths before he used the chair to push himself onto his foot.
“Not exactly graceful.”
“We are doing fine,” she said through clenched teeth, as though the action would add steel to her gait. “What are you doing?” she asked when she realized he was adding to their weight by dragging the chair with each step.
“Counterweight.”
The journey was an agonizingly slow one and noisy. Both of them were breathing heavily. The chair groaned and squeaked as it was dragged, then leaned upon for support. Maddy was surprised the entire household had not sought out the curious sounds. “Almost there.” She could tell he was tiring. He was allowing her to accept more of his weight with every step.
“I’m hurting you and am sorry for it.”
Several feet from the bed, one of the legs of the chair caught on a small woven rug. The snag threw their rhythm off and Brogden’s weight pitched them forward. Maddy’s startled cry was muffled against his chest as she landed on the bed with Brogden on top of her. He had struck his wounded leg on one of the wooden side beams of the bed and was swearing in such a manner that would have made a sailor blush.
“Sir, I cannot breathe!” Maddy pushed at his arms, a futile attempt to move him. An agitated clicking between them had her crying out, “Heavenly saints, what is this?”
Brogden groaned. He had the indecency to chuckle. “My lizard?”
“By God, you have gone too far, Brogden.”
Lord Tipton’s deadly pronouncement stilled her movements and managed to seep into even Brogden’s pain-filled consciousness. Suddenly she was free from his weight. She sat up just in time to see a cream-and-brown-striped lizard run across the bed and disappear over the side. Her brother gripped Brogden with one hand while he slammed his other fist into his jaw. Brogden, unsupported, dropped like a stone onto the floor.
“You fool! Are you trying to kill him?” she shrieked. Scrambling off the bed, she crouched at his side. Brogden, dazed from the punch, meekly allowed her to cushion his head in her lap.
“You are my friend,” Lord Tipton said, each word spoken in slow precision, reminding them all of the fury he was bridling. “I brought you into my home, caring for you as if you were my brother.” He paced, glaring at both of them. “You repay me by acting like a damn satyr.”
Maddy sucked in her breath. Realizing she was holding it, she blew it out. “This is the meaning of your outrage? You think he was tossing my skirts up? Or perhaps you think your friend is the victim? Maybe I was the one who seduced him into bed?”
Brogden tried to get her attention by lightly touching her cheek. “Sweet Madeleina, attacking your brother will not make him see reason.”
His caress halted the ascent of her growing rage. She had the sudden urge to lean over and chastely kiss the swelling she saw forming on his jaw. “Are you well?”
Uncertain of the scene before him, her brother said defensively, “He was warned you were off-limits. It is indecent that you are here.”
Disgusted, Maddy seized one of the fallen pillows and eased it under Brogden to replace her lap. “To reason with a man one must find his mind reasonable. Forgive me for lacking the strength to aid you, Sir Wallace.” She pushed past Lord Tipton. “What my brother lacks in brains he makes up for in brute strength.” She slammed the door behind her.
“All she was trying to do was ease my suffering by helping me to the bed.” He groaned when Tipton pulled him to his feet and then lifted him in his arms to put him in the bed. “I haven’t decided who was cast the villain in your sordid little drama, me or your lovely sister.”
***
“Is Madeleina asleep?”
“No.” Devona closed the door to the study. Rayne was sitting in a large chair near the fireplace, a glass of brandy clasped in his hands. She walked over, took the glass out of his hands, and placed it on the mantel. “But she has stopped crying. I left her reading a book.” She sat in his lap. He folded his arms around her and pulled her close. Rayne grimaced and rubbed his ribs.
“Did Brogden hit you?”
“No, I— It’s nothing.” He rested his cheek against her head. “I overreacted, Devona. I saw them on the bed and thought the worst.”
“How badly injured is he?”
“Falling on his injured leg has reopened the wound. There was some oozing blood and fluid. If he remains in bed instead of moving about as if he were indestructible, he might survive.”
“Maddy said that she was only trying to help him move to the bed since Mrs. Winters was elsewhere. She blames herself for what happened.”
“And rightly she should,” Rayne said, getting incensed all over again. “Why she chose to visit him in the first place is highly suspect.”
Devona stroked his face, enjoying the texture of flesh and the beginnings of a beard. “You were lecturing her again, were you not?”
“I caught her digging into my medical case. She could have cut herself on a saw or blade.”
