Page 10 of The No Good Irresistible Viscount Tipton
“The tale is old, and bores me. I am satisfied with my life.” He became speculative. “So what does the story have to do with solving your troubles?”
Nerves sparked along her spine. She had to make him understand. If all efforts failed to release Doran from Newgate, his life depended on Lord Tipton’s cooperation. She took a deep breath and jumped. “Are you acquainted with the Claeg family?”
“No.”
“Oh, well, uh, my father thinks highly of Lord Claeg. Our country estates are rather close.”
“Convenient.”
Devona straightened her spine, and plowed ahead with a determination that most found admirable, if not a little irritating when one was the focus. “I grew up playing with Lord Claeg’s children. In particular, his second son, Doran.” She did not like how Lord Tipton’s gaze had narrowed to pewter-colored slits. “As we grew to adults, Doran started to view me not as a sister, but as a—ah, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” he grimly muttered. “Are you engaged, Miss Bedegrayne?”
“Yes. No.” His glare was rather unnerving and her thoughts scattered for a moment like white petals on the grass. “He wanted to marry me, but Papa was against it. Doran is the second son of a baron. He was educated as due his position. He just lacks direction. Papa said that he was shorted the steel needed to hold someone like me. Whatever that means,” she mumbled more to herself, and blinked in surprise when Lord Tipton replied.
“I think I do.” He tapped his riding whip against his thigh. “So being the lovely, spirited, backward creature that you are, you decided to take on the opposition.”
She frowned, thinking that his deductions made her seem a trifle nutty. “I am not backward.”
He grinned, delighted by her reaction. “I also called you lovely.”
“To soften the sting, I bet.”
“Just remember you were the one who came calling. You must admire something about me?”
Devona glared at the mock sincerity on his handsome face and knew the truth would only get her in trouble. She scooted back when he reached for her hand. “What would you expect from an addled chit?”
He stared at her in awe. “Your eyes lose their blue when you have your back up.”
“I do not—” She lowered her voice when she noticed her tone had caught the attention of a strolling couple. “This is getting us nowhere.”
“Are you certain, Miss Bedegrayne? I am positively fascinated by the many facets of your character.” He held up a hand, relenting when she started to search for something to hit him with. “Calm yourself, you maddening creature. You are too adorable when vexed. All right, so Papa has cast your beau onto the streets and you are feeling badly ’cause he’s a dear friend. I doubt your father is going to accept my recommendation, even if I was inclined to give it. Which I’m not.” He leaned forward, making certain she understood.
She did. “I do not need your word, sir. I need your skills as a surgeon.”
He relaxed back into a slouch and gave her a roguish leer. “You look in splendid health to me. Trust me, I’ve examined you quite thoroughly.”
Why, the man was actually flirting with her! She gave him a playful shove. “Not me, you fool. Doran.”
“I admire your loyalty, but if the man is ill, allow his family to see to him.”
As this was always the hardest part to explain, she felt the sting of tears. “Not ill. He’s going to die, and it is all my fault!”
“Why don’t you tell me the rest of it?” Rayne gently coaxed, sensing she was tightrope-walking across a thin wire of emotions.
Her hand shot out, a gesture of helplessness. “After Doran returned from a tour of Italy, he got it into his head that we should marry. Papa’s refusal seemed to make him more determined.”
“Do you love him?”
“How could I not? I have known him for most of my life.”
Rayne’s expression remained carefully blank as he mulled over her words. “Love has many degrees.… The kind of love you have for your brother is different from the love you have for a lover, a husband.”
“Since I have never taken a lover nor a husband, I cannot compare.” She could not understand how the discussion had disintegrated into such an improper topic. Stranger still was the fact that she felt prompted to reply.
Satisfaction gleamed in his gaze. “Sometimes lover and husband are the same man.”
If he had set out to distract her from crying, he had succeeded. Their conversation was definitely out of her element. Showing her displeasure, she squared her shoulders and made a production out of smoothing her skirts. “I appreciate hearing a surgeon’s perspective on relations,” she said with just enough tartness to have him grinning again, “However, the degree of my affection for Doran is not under consideration.”
