“Where will we be residing?” his sister asked, her face pressed to the window. The masses going about their daily tasks had captured her attention from the moment they had entered the city.
“Not too much longer, pet.” Devona gave her hand a friendly squeeze. “I am so glad you came with us. It will be so wonderful to have a younger sister.”
The girl cast a wary glance in Tipton’s direction. He stared back, his eyes narrowing slightly, not even trying to allay her fears about him. Something akin to amusement stirred him as he watched her eyes widen and her forehead smack the glass when she turned back to the window. Perhaps having a little sister underfoot to torment would bring its own gratification.
Devona’s foot shot out and struck him sharply in the instep. He reached down to rub the injured area. Damnable woman. One would think she could read minds. He nodded at her, attempting to look repentant. And the ton thought there was something supernatural about him! A woman’s insight was more frightening than a close brush with death.
Speck had the door open and had his hand out before Rayne could offer to help Devona down from the carriage. “Good afternoon, sir. May I offer my congratulations on your recent nuptials, Lady Tipton.”
Rayne stilled, waiting for the surge of emotion he had always tied to the name. To his surprise, the dread and fury he expected remained dormant. He sought out Devona, but she was too busy pushing Madeleina toward Speck. It was a small thing, really. Yet it mattered to Rayne. The title was Devona’s now. There would be no going back for either of them.
“Speck, this is Tipton’s sister, Miss Madeleina Wyman. Maddy, meet Speck.”
Speck towered over her. “I never knew ye had a sister, sir? And a small ’un at that,” he said in a gruff rumble.
Rayne’s sister serenely met the butler’s rude stare. “You might want to practice that one in the mirror, Speck. I have gargoyles in my maze that are more terrifying.” She walked past him, not awaiting his reply.
“Fancy that,” Devona said, hiding the smile on her face with her hand as she hurried to catch up with the girl.
Rayne held back, waiting for Speck to finish giving instructions to the two underlings he had recently hired.
“What yer lady do? Shake the family tree to see who tumbled out?” Speck asked, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe the sweat from his face.
“I’m newly married, Speck. It is a husband’s right to indulge his bride.”
“Pardon me fer saying so, sir, but that young’un is full of spit and piss. A man like you should be planting his own brood instead of raising a girl who has been taught from the cradle to hate ye.”
“That’s why you are paid so well to watch my back.” Rayne listened to the feminine chatter echoing from within his home. Such sounds were unfamiliar to him, but they weren’t unpleasant. “The trip to Foxenclover was not what I had anticipated.” Neither was Madeleina.
He started up the stairs. “Have you had any trouble in our absence?”
“Nary a spark. Expecting some?” Speck asked, his tone telling Rayne that he would relish it.
“I’m not certain. I have nipped the visible threads.” He shook his head. “Just keep alert.” He paused. “Has our other guest settled down?”
Speck’s grin widened, showing his pointed teeth. “The doc? It only took me and three others to stuff ’im in the carriage. One extra to pull ’im out. Hell of a fighter, even if you did whittle down his leg.” The man spat and swiped at the spittle with his shoe. “He’ll be wanting to see ye.”
“It’s a step up. His last wanting for me involved metal spikes, hot oil, and my body contorted in a creative, albeit unlikely, position.”
He strode into the town house, leaving Speck chuckling in his wake.
* * *
Brogden responded to Rayne’s soft knock. Pushing open the door, he entered the room, mildly astonished to see the bed empty and his friend sitting in a chair positioned at the window.
“I hear you caught yourself a wife, Tipton,” the man said, his voice hoarse. “Ready to send her home?”
“Not quite.” His lips quirked. “I have decided men like us could be improved on.” Rayne slipped into the role of surgeon and studied his patient. Brogden was two-and-thirty and this moment he looked every one of those years, plus a few more. His beard stubble gleamed silver instead of matching the rich black on his head. His eyes were clear, he seemed alert, but he exuded a faint trace of his favorite opium tincture. Rayne grimaced, thinking his friend looked too thin. Brogden’s frame had always carried an impressive bulk of muscle and the wasted form remaining was a disturbing contrast.
“And the lass is up to the task?”
“If she’s not, at least I am.”
Brogden laughed until there was moisture in his eyes. “I never had any doubt that you wouldn’t know what to do with one of these English birds once you found one who liked your homely face.” He straightened his good leg and pinched the wetness from his lashes. “I noticed your viscountess was not the only lady climbing down from your carriage. Did you manage to get yourself leg shackled twice?”
“Devona insisted we bring Madeleina from Foxenclover.”
“Madeleina.” Brogden sat back and murmured her name several times. “It makes me think of hot sand on a beach and an even hotter woman in my arms.”
“Not that woman. She is only fourteen!” Rayne said, his warning clear. His sister would think him a real fiend if he threw her at someone as old and scarred as Brogden.
Unperturbed, his lips formed a secret smile. “Depending on where you are in the world, she’s old enough to marry and have a baby hugging her hip. Unless—” He opened one eye. “Is she your by-blow, Tipton?”
“Are you addled? I would have had to have been her age to sire her!”
Brogden’s clasped hands parted, palms up. “My point exactly. A perfectly respectable age for making babies.”
“Now that I’m back, I think we are going to work on weaning you from your favorite medicine. It is rotting holes in your brain, my friend. That child is my sister. Consider her off-limits.”
“Sister?” He scoffed. “She is too pretty to be related to the likes of you. Maybe she’s your half sister.”
Tired and realizing he was being teased, Rayne gestured to the remaining stump of the injured leg. “I want to check the healing.”
Affronted, Brogden sent Rayne a look that reminded him of the man he had known eight years earlier. “I know my business.”
Rayne settled on his haunches in front of him. “So much so that you had to cross several oceans to have me cut it off.”
“Ouch!” His friend winced. “It’s tender. Have a care.” He looked away while Rayne pulled some scissors from his pocket and cut into the bandages. “How long is Madeleina visiting her dear brother?”
He frowned, not liking the way Brogden said her name. “Long enough,” was all Rayne said.
“Damn, that hurts!” his friend growled through clenched teeth. Sweat began glistening on his brow. “Some host. You drag me out of my home because you did not approve of my care, and where does that leave me? Alone with no one to kiss me on the head and hold my hand.” He laughed, but there was no humor motivating it. “Your lips are on the thin side for my taste. Why don’t you call up your sister and she—argh!” His face flamed red while he choked on the pain. “Bloody sadist!” Brogden gripped the arms of his chair; all thought of taunting Tipton about the pretty lass with the swinging hair of rich, sweet molasses was forgotten.
* * *
Preparing herself for bed, Devona scooped water from the ceramic basin and scrubbed away the grime with her fingertips. Eyes closed, she reached for a nearby towel only to find it missing. She felt the soft brush of fabric on her opposing cheek.
“Very amusing.” She turned her face into the offered towel and dried her face. “Tipton?”
“Are you expecting another?”
Finished, she tossed the towel at his chest. “Oh, t
here might be a man or two squirreled away if you prove to be annoying,” she teased.
“I doubt it,” he replied in all seriousness. “I think I have managed to ferret out and dispose of all your suitors.”
“I vow, Tipton, you make it sound as if I had suitors hiding behind the drapery.” Devona sat in front of the small dressing table. She scrutinized her face, trying to note the changes in her features since she had become a married woman. If there were any, she could not discern them.
“Do you always frown at your image?” Curiosity brought him closer so that he stood behind her.
“You will think me foolish.”
“You? Committing a foolish act? Absurd.”
Devona’s mouth twisted into a smirk. “None of that or I shall be hunting up one of those hidden suitors.”
Rayne held her reflective gaze in the mirror. “For the sake of marital harmony, I shall retract my previous comments.”
She felt his strong, thick fingers nimbly sift through her hair and remove the pins that secured her braids. She loved the feel of his hands on her. He efficiently worked his fingers over her scalp; the accidental grazing of his nails was simply heaven.
“Why would I think you foolish?” his lulling tone questioned.
She blinked, having forgotten his earlier inquiry. A few caresses and her mind became pudding. “Nothing, truly. I was looking for changes in my face.”
He bent down and pressed a kiss on the top of her head. “You are too young to be counting wrinkles.”
“I am not that vain,” she said, even if it wasn’t the truth. “I thought I would see something different. A change, if you like, now that I am a married woman.” She shook her head to disengage his fingers from her hair. “I told you it was silly.”
A gentle touch on her left shoulder made her shift her gaze to his in the mirror. His eyes of warm pewter possessed the means to touch her as effortlessly as if he had raised his hand. “Were you worried that others would see that I had bedded you, just by looking at your face?”
Getting irritated by the hint of laughter she detected in his tone, she picked up her brush and began stroking it through her hair at a reckless speed that should have created more tangles rather than smoothed them. “I did not expect to see a tattoo on my forehead for all to see, if that is your meaning, sir!” For spite, she rapped his knuckles with the wooden handle when he reached out to take it from her.
“Ow, you vengeful chit. Has anyone told you that you have the devil’s own temper when you are vexed?”
Slowing the tempo of her strokes, she said demurely, “On the contrary. I have always been complimented on my wit and engaging manner.”
“Perhaps only I can draw out your annoyance.”
On her life she could not understand why the observation seemed to please him. “By all accounts, Tipton, I will have to credit you for that.” Setting down her brush, she pivoted on her chair until she could look directly at him. “So, Tipton, with our growing family do you think we should contact a solicitor to help us locate a larger residence?”
The question visibly flustered him. “Growing?” He gazed pointedly at her abdomen. “You—you said it was too soon.”
Devona could not conceal her disappointment. “Still thinking a pregnancy would be a wonderful way to goad your mother? I hate to thwart you, but I was referring to Dr. Sir Wallace Brogden.” Considering her husband’s feelings on the subject of family, she hoped it would take years to conceive their first child. By then perhaps the notion of having a child together would be a joy in itself, instead of another tool to hurt his mother.
“Ah, yes,” he faltered, trying to judge Devona’s present feelings. “I hope having him here will not upset you. Brogden has been a friend since I went abroad. He was a part of my life when my own family could not bear the sight of me.”
“There is no reason to explain, Tipton.”
“He almost killed himself getting himself to London. I can only surmise the poison from his injury muddled his senses. He is a man of science and a good doctor. If he had been clearheaded, he would have seen that the leg needed tending.”
Recognizing guilt when she saw it, she murmured, “His ill care forced you to cut off part of his leg.”
Rayne kneaded the tension at his brow. “He thought by waiting that I could save the leg. I couldn’t. There was too much infection. The maggots—” Noting her expression, he halted. “Forgive me; I forget that not everyone appreciates the details of my work.”
“Does he blame you?”
“Some. Especially after the surgery. I only renewed his anger by having Speck bully him to the town house. But he needed my help, and I intended to see that he survived the amputation. Even if he was determined not to just to irritate me.”
“You never said a word about this. And here I was, doing my own bullying to get you to help me save Doran. Not to mention the attacks on our lives!” She stood. The weight of all the responsibility she had placed on his shoulders was beginning to strain hers. “No wonder you refused me at first. By all rights, you should have sent Speck to bully me into leaving you alone.”
He opened his arms and she walked into his protective embrace. He had been protecting her all along. The thought that she had not been carrying her weight in their partnership made her feel miserable.
“No fretting, beloved. You’ll bring on those wrinkles,” he said, trying to tease her out of her melancholy. “Anything I did to help you with Claeg I did for my own purpose. As my mother can attest, no one manipulates me.”
“You took on Maddy,” Devona pointed out, then could have kicked herself in the shin for reminding him.
“I did it to please you. And me, too, since I thought Jocelyn was going to have an apoplectic fit over the announcement.” He stroked her hair, his hand continuing down her spine until he affectionately patted her bottom. “Sorry, love, if you think to reform my opinion of my family. However, since you did fess up about me bringing out your nastiness—”
“Your ability to vastly annoy me,” she corrected, “and you are doing it now, my lord.”
“Regardless, madam, I can stand here before you and not regret a single action I have taken on your behalf.” He cupped her face and kissed her sweetly. “Having Brogden here won’t bother you?”
“No. He is your friend. Since he is angry with you, perhaps I can get him to disclose tales of your past together,” she wondered aloud. Enough menacing glee was in her tone to have him chuckling.
“Not if I threaten him first.”
He kissed her again. This kiss contained none of the sweetness of the previous one and left her hungering for more. Devona leaned into him. She opened her mouth against his, allowing his tongue to penetrate and seductively rub against hers. As she breathed deeply through her nose, contentment rose deep within her. The smell of Rayne, the taste and feel of him, was becoming an ever-increasing need. The more time spent with him, the more she craved.
“One more thing,” he whispered; the promise that he would be inside her soon shone brilliantly in his eyes. “When our child grows within your womb, Devona, his creation will be the result of my need to be a part of you. I’m a selfish bastard. ’Tis best you remember that.”
* * *
“What is your impression of Maddy?” Devona asked her sister Wynne three days after her return to London. It had taken that much time to convince her husband that she would come to no harm. Although no other attempts had been made on their lives, Tipton was not convinced their circumstances would remain so. Feeling like a noble lady, she strolled with Wynne down Bond Street with two trailing footmen as guards. Devona thought her husband was the most protective man she knew, even trumping her father, but she refused to remain a prisoner.
“Her manners are about as shabby as her dress,” her sister said after a reflective pause. Attired in a light green muslin walking dress with a yellow sarcenet spencer, Wynne exuded a confidence in her bearing that Devona had always found lacking in herself. If anyo
ne could help her add the polish she had promised Jocelyn, it would be her sister. The gypsy hat of satin straw she was wearing concealed the thoughtful frown Devona suspected was in place.
“Are you hoping a few new dresses and the ability to execute the perfect curtsy will endear her to Tipton?”
“Not exactly. The wardrobe and the lessons are just the trimming. My intention is to make her real to him.”
Wynne faced her, the disbelief clear on her perfectly sculpted features. “Now who is speaking nonsense?”
Spying the trailing members of their entourage, Maddy, Pearl, and Gar, from across the street, Devona lowered her voice. “For years, Maddy has simply been a name, an unwanted burden to reject. Avoiding Foxenclover reinforced that attitude. Unfortunately for Tipton, he has a wife who will not allow him to continue.”
“You think throwing brother and sister together will make him change his mind?”
Devona stopped in front of a glove shop window. “I am not seeking a miracle. I just want him to understand that she has a long life ahead of her.”
“And that means…,” Wynne persisted.
“That’s a long time to hate and fear someone.” Devona’s face brightened when Maddy joined them. “Did you find something interesting at Hookham’s?” She usually took advantage of visiting the circulating library when she was in the area. Today, she had declined so she could have some time alone with her sister.
“A few.” Maddy sent a look to Pearl. “Miss Brown was pleased to find a few copies of Mrs. Radcliffe’s books. You would have thought she had found a handful of diamonds the way she carried on.”
“I haven’t read these tales,” Pearl said defensively. “Besides, I saw the way you were clutching that old gardening book.”
“That old gardening book was Horace Walpole’s essay Modern Taste in Gardening. He discovered similarities between the post-medieval garden and those of the antique world. His observations were quite insightful, though I doubt you could appreciate them.”
The No Good Irresistible Viscount Tipton Page 19