Page 6 of The No Good Irresistible Viscount Tipton
Her ears were still ringing from her father’s scathing lecture and threats. He thought he had her properly cowed, but her dear papa had underestimated her resolve and guilt. She used a little more cunning to arrange the next visit. She could not travel to the prison unescorted, so Pearl and Gar were enlightened and then sworn to secrecy. They had figured she was reckless enough to go without them, so they had agreed someone needed to protect her from her latest insane venture.
“So where does the family think you’ve wandered off to?” Pearl tartly inquired, now that she had had a few days to recover from what Devona privately dubbed the Tipton Tragedy.
“Cards at Mrs. Elizabeth Watts’, I think.”
“’Tis a sad day for us all when you can look me in the eye and have me believing it.”
“Do not worry so, Pearl. It will be truth by the end of the day. I just fibbed a bit on our arrival time.”
The coachman called out as the coach slowed to a halt. Gar opened the door and helped the ladies down. In an uncharacteristic nervous gesture, Devona smoothed the front of her simple brown-and-gold-striped carriage dress. A straw bonnet with matching ribbons and veil completed her attire. She wanted to look pleasing for Doran but did not want to call too much attention to herself.
“Here, take this.” Gar handed her a handkerchief soaked in vinegar. “Sir Thomas will have more than our positions if you are taken sick.”
Doran was already waiting for them as they approached the gate. Heartsick, Devona feared he fought for a position near the gate daily just so he would not miss her visit. Gar paid a greasy-looking man two shillings so she could come within speaking distance.
“Miss Bedegrayne.” Doran formally bowed, the simple courtesy reminding them both that he was bred for better surroundings.
“Mr. Claeg, I trust you are well.”
His hazel eyes were eloquent, seemingly searching her face to commit it to memory. “No worse than most here.”
“I—we—” She motioned to Pearl to step forward. “It is a basket of apples. I know it’s not much. I was not even certain they would allow you to keep them.” Before Doran could take the basket, the turnkey seized it. Satisfied after his quick search, he helped himself to an apple and took a huge bite.
Doran returned his wistful gaze back to Devona. “I have learned to treasure the simple gifts of humanity. Just seeing you, hearing your voice, makes the cold darkness I have to return to a little more bearable.”
Her eyes were glassy with tears. “Oh, Doran.” She closed her eyes; the tears left glistening channels on her cheeks. “Have you appealed to your father?”
“Appealed?” For the first time, anger cloaked the worshipful tone Doran always used when speaking to her. “Haven’t you heard? My father has no second son. He disavowed my birthright the moment I was fettered by the magistrate.” The bruises on Doran’s face gave him a sinister appearance. “He never bothered to ask if I was innocent.”
Devona lowered the handkerchief from her face. “Is that what you are? Innocent?”
He sagged against the metal gate and smoothed his knotted hair with a grimy hand. “Hell of a way to treat an innocent man, I say. Lock him up tight with a squirming mass of fetid squalor so that even breathing air becomes a paying privilege.” He gripped the grate separating them. “No air. No heat. No place to move. Only darkness, and the sounds of the dying as they lie in their own filth. All of us hoping there will be something left to identify us as human after the rats and roaches have had their feast.”
“Enough!” Gar stepped in front of Devona to shield her from the ugliness lurking behind the stone walls of Newgate.
“I am so sorry, Doran. I do not know what I can do. I thought I might be able to—” She glanced away, feeling helpless. “I failed. You know my father has forbidden me to see you.”
The harshness that had frozen Doran’s features into a marble mask softened at her distress. “Poor pet. Always my fierce protector, eh? Had you been born male, you would have been invincible.”
She choked on her laughter. “Had I been male, you would have looked awfully silly courting me with flowers.” Devona held out her hand. “Here, take this.” She pressed some coins into his hand when he did not take them. “Just enough to buy you some comfort, but not enough to get your throat slit.” Gar pulled her back, and this time she did not resist.
Pearl shuddered as they moved through the crowd, away from the gate. “Lord, I feel like my skin is crawling with lice! If we had any sense, we would burn all our clothing and bathe in a barrel of vinegar.”
“At least we can walk away from the despair. A good soaking, a freshly laundered dress, and we are the same.” Devona glanced back. Doran was no longer visible. “I doubt Mr. Claeg will ever be the same man.”
Gar made a sound of disgust. “Maybe you are just viewing the same man from a different viewpoint.”
“What the devil does that mean?”
Gar never was given the chance to answer. Devona found herself facing Doran’s formidable mother and his younger sister, Amara. The young woman had come out the same year as Devona. Despite the friendship between the two families, they had never been very close. Devona could tell by the expression on their faces that this accidental meeting would not be pleasant. Trying to appear pleased to see them, Devona said cheerfully, “Lady Claeg. Miss Claeg. I was just about—”
Lady Claeg cut her off with a look, then filled in the gap before she could take another breath. “I know what you are about, Miss Bedegrayne, and it will cease this moment. For the sake of my lord’s long-standing friendship with your father, I have tried to hold my tongue.”
“I meant—”
“To beguile my son, and then tell him he was not rich enough to keep you—”
Indignation dampened some of the guilt she was feeling. “I did no such thing, madam. If I had known what he was doing, for my sake or not, I would have dissuaded him from his plan. He is my friend.”
