Page 82 of The No Good Irresistible Viscount Tipton
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“Mama!” Maddy exclaimed, rising from her seat. “What are you doing here?”
The dowager turned her cheek, anticipating a proper greeting from her daughter. Maddy kissed her, then took her hand, leading her to the table.
“Did you think I would abandon you, child?” Jocelyn asked, inspecting the morning room’s occupants seated at the table. Tightness thinned her lips, showing disapproval at what she beheld.
Rayne did not rise from his seat. He resumed chewing as if he could actually swallow the food on his plate and enjoy it. Whatever had lured Jocelyn from her precious Foxenclover had nothing to do with him. He glanced at Maddy, who made a fuss about finding a place for their mother. Maybe he should send the girl home and be done with them. The sun had broken over the horizon and was now burning high in the sky. There had been no word from Devona. Everyone swore she had walked out of the town house on her own. He was left wondering if the choice not to return was hers or another’s. “Maternal visits are unusual, Jocelyn. What brings you to town?”
The Bedegraynes looked at one another in mute communication, trying to understand the animosity in his tone. If his wife had not enlightened them regarding the estranged relationship between mother and son, then Rayne would not. He was not the sort to reach for a handkerchief and cry out the unfairness of his life to his in-laws.
Jocelyn took the vacant seat offered by the footman. Tension spread and coiled around them as mother and son confronted each other. Maddy carried a plate filled with items she had chosen from the sideboard. From the quick, wary glances she was darting in his direction, Rayne could see his manner had dimmed his sister’s pleasure at their mother’s unexpected visit. He gripped the knife he had in his hand so vigorously he could feel the detailing cut into his palm.
“I agreed to send Madeleina to London. I did not say that I would not visit her from time to time.” The dowager pierced Wynne with a curious stare. “Is this one your mistress, Tipton?” she inquired politely, causing a stir of exclamations at the table. “She has a look about her that is appealing to a man’s weakness. However did you convince your wife to set a place for her at your table?”
Rayne doubted his mother believed the nonsense she was spouting, although she had rallied the Bedegraynes to defend Wynne’s honor.
Sir Thomas glared at Jocelyn as if she had sprouted three heads. “Are you mad, woman? My daughter would tolerate no mistress hidden or not, even if Tipton was foolish enough to dishonor her in such a manner.”
“Thank you, I think,” Tipton murmured.
Brock’s scowl mirrored his father’s. “Madam, you owe my sister an apology.”
“I suggest you make your apologies, Mother. Brock likes to issue challenges when he is angry.”
Jocelyn’s eyes narrowed. “What sort of people are you forcing my daughter to associate with?”
Rayne parted his lips to tell her, but Maddy spoke before he could speak.
“Mama, you are insulting Devona’s family.” She made the quick introductions to Sir Thomas, Brock, and Wynne. Despite the men’s anger, politeness overruled and the dowager received stiff acknowledgments from them.
Jocelyn nodded in Wynne’s direction. “It appears I misunderstood the situation, Miss Bedegrayne.”
If Wynne had expected a sincere apology, she hid her disappointment well. A night of restless sleep did not prevent her from seeing the amusing side of the situation. “I have never been accused of being a man’s mistress before,” she mused, her delicate brow lifting at the notion. “I am too tired to decide if I should be truly offended or not.” She shrugged off her father’s astonished expression.
Maddy clearly looked relieved that the Bedegraynes were prepared to ignore her mother’s insulting comments. “Here, Mama, I prepared the plate myself.”
Something softened in the older woman’s features. “Thank you, Madeleina.” Maddy laid the plate in front of her, then moved back and settled in her own chair.
“Were you worried, Mother, that I had sold off your daughter to slavers?” Rayne taunted. Her very presence seemed to provoke him.
Jocelyn remained calm, refusing to take the bait. “Not precisely.” She dabbed an invisible speck of food with her napkin. “I am surprised your wife is not in attendance.” A perceptive woman, she noted Rayne was not the only one who tensed up. “Good heavens, pray do not tell me that you have already managed to run off that fiery creature. I am astounded. Truly, if there was a woman who deserved Le Cadavre Raffiné, I would have wagered Devona Bedegrayne was that woman.”
Rayne was used to Jocelyn’s appalling lack of decency. The Bedegraynes, however, were not. They stared at the dowager in varying degrees of shock. To his amazement, it was Maddy who rose to his defense.
“Mama, I expected better of you. Devona and my brother have been very generous by inviting me to their home.” The fact that she had been bullied and used as a pawn to spite their mother was carefully overlooked. “‘Being judged as a gracious lady cannot be taught in lessons, it is bred into her and divined by her actions,’” she quoted from some reference known only to her and to their mother. Jocelyn’s cheeks heightened in color.
Wynne sipped her coffee. “A lovely saying, my dear.”
Brock muttered something unrepeatable under his breath.
Rayne stared at his mother. “Why do you assume she has run off?”
Jocelyn’s attention switched from Maddy to him. “I do not know. Has she?”
He began buttering the slice of bread on his plate. “My wife could just as easily be upstairs resting. Or maybe she just walked out of the room at the mention of your arrival.”
The direction of the conversation was not in her control and it was obvious that his mother did not like it. Her gaze shifted and assessed the Bedegraynes’ interest. “If your wife was present, a place for her would have been prepared at the table.”
