Page 71 of The No Good Irresistible Viscount Tipton
Pleasure shone off her face as she offered her hand. “Mr. Lockwood. It appears you caught me hiding at another ball.”
Oz Lockwood bowed over her hand. “To win the lady’s favor I bear a gift.” He presented her with a cup of punch. “I had to scale a mountain of humanity to gain this. You may now show the proper gratitude.”
Devona curtsied. “My thanks, sir.” She took the glass and sipped the warm punch. “Oz, it is so good to see a friendly face.”
“Mine in particular or will any do?” he teased.
“Yours, of course,” she replied automatically. Before she had met Tipton, Doran and Oz had been her closest male friends. Now Doran was gone and she was married. There was something calming about seeing that Oz had remained the same.
“The other day at Gunter’s,” he said, trying to be heard over the music and hundreds of other vying conversations, “I feared I had lost your friendship.”
She shook her head. “My new household is taking some adjusting. We have taken on Maddy, who cannot decide whether or not she hates her brother. Plus we have an old friend of Tipton’s who is recovering from the loss of his leg. Emotions are running high, and Wynne was only being protective.”
“You are fortunate to have such a loyal family.”
Yes, yes, she was. She had to confess that even stuffy Irene had managed to do the impossible. “I agree. However, I shan’t tell a soul, else they would expect constant praise.”
Oz laughed. “Never change, my dear.”
Devona gestured to the chaos around her. “So, Mr. Lockwood, is there a certain lady around who could entice you to become leg shackled yourself?”
“I can think of a certain miss who might take me on,” he contemplated.
“Who?”
“A man must keep some secrets. If she refuses, I would like to bear my rejection with some dignity.”
A footman touched her on the arm. “Lady Tipton, your husband requires your presence.”
“Where is he? Is something wrong?”
“I have no knowledge of that, my lady. You are to meet him outside, near the gardens.”
“Thank you,” she said, dismissing the servant. She took a sip of the punch, then pressed it back into Oz’s hands. “I have to go. Thank you for the punch. Promise to let me know when she accepts your offer.”
Oz Lockwood waved her off. “I’ll send you a note the moment the deed is done. Hurry on; I wouldn’t want your husband angry at me for delaying his wife.”
Haste was impossible. Devona slowly pushed her way through the crowd, acknowledging the people she was practically shoving out of her way. She welcomed the thought of stepping outside. The warmth from all the bodies packed in the room was making her light-headed.
She stumbled as someone pushed her from behind. Devona felt something scratch her on her exposed upper back. She touched the injury and her fingertips revealed traces of blood.
“I am so sorry, my dear,” a woman slurred behind her. “My pin must have pricked you.”
“You and her lord,” a drunken companion quipped.
Devona ignored them both. It was taking all her energies to focus on making it to her husband. The heat was most intolerable, she thought, raising a gloved hand to her temple. She would be soaked to the skin by the time she found the doors to the outside.
She moved from person to person, gripping the disconnected arm or hand as if it were a rope of flesh leading her to Tipton. Hopefully, she could reach the gardens before she disgraced herself in front of all these people.
The walls rolled toward her and she cried out in fear. Another push and she was through the open door. Torches lit up the night. Their flames were ridiculously long, their smoking tails attempting to lash at her. She staggered sideways to avoid being burned alive.
“Rayne!” she screamed, running deeper into the shadows. She kept running until she collided with the brick garden wall. Closing her eyes to keep out the horrifying images, she used her hands to feel along the wall. There had to be a gate, some way she could escape. The brick fell away, and then there was cool iron in her grip. She shook the gate. It was locked. Locked away like Doran, she despaired, falling to her knees. Devona was curled up like a child, sobbing into her skirts, when Tipton found her.
***
“Some bastard drugged her,” Rayne announced to the somber Bedegraynes. Too caught up in her nightmare to realize that the man she had called for was carrying her, Devona had fought him and Brock like a raving lunatic. They had tried to be discreet, but there had been too many witnesses. It was evident that she had not seen the many guests standing about as she made her escape from her invisible demons. Rayne’s hands clenched into fists at the thought of her suffering.
“How’s my gel, Tipton? Will this madness linger?” Sir Thomas asked, fearing the worst.
