Wynne confirmed it with a nod. “I saw it earlier. You think something sharp was dipped in the poison?”
Sir Thomas’s brows lifted. “Like a button, or the edge of a fan?”
“Or perhaps a ring?” Brock suggested.
“It could be any of those items or something we have not thought of,” Rayne said wearily, the strain of the evening showing on his face. “Too many people could get close to her. I blame myself.”
Wynne made a protesting sound. “We must shoulder the blame as well. It was our family who insisted on this ball.”
“If I had suspected Devona was the intended target all along, I would have refused Irene’s offer.”
Brock glared at Rayne, the fury rekindling in his gaze. “Then why did you accept, man? Hell, you encouraged my twit of a sister!”
“Because,” he starkly admitted, “I thought I was the intended target.”
* * *
Consciousness came slowly to Devona. She felt as if a great weight had been pressing her down into the black depths of the deepest ocean. Suddenly free, she was rising through a graying scale of elusive shadows to the bright dawning of awareness. She opened her eyes. The first thing she noticed was that she was in her night rail. She stared at the lace on her sleeve as if she had never seen it before.
“Praise be, you’re awake, mum!” a maid exclaimed, carrying a tray in her hands “I was supposed to try to wake you and make you eat some broth.”
Devona cleared her throat, noting it was dry. “I am not hungry. Some tea would be nice.”
“Right away, mum.” The maid placed the tray on a nearby table. “Everyone will be so pleased your senses have returned.”
Devona quietly watched the maid pour the tea. Her thoughts were still a fuzzy jumble. “Have I been sick?” She accepted the cup and took a few tentative sips.
The servant gave her a pitying look. “Poor lamb. I’ll get the master. He’ll put your mind at ease.”
Minutes later, Tipton rushed into the room. She had never seen him in such a state. His clothes were wrinkled and it appeared that his last shave had been days ago.
“What a sight! Either you have misplaced your valet or he has taken up gin.”
“Neither, my lady.” Seeing that her cup was empty, he refilled it. Sitting beside her, he stared at her like a starved man deprived of a meal. “How are you feeling?”
She pressed her lips together into a pout. “Confused. What is going on here, Tipton? Am I ill?”
“What is the last thing you can recall?”
“Well, let’s see.” She thought for a moment, “The ball, of course.” Her eyes widened at a sudden insight. “Don’t tell me I fainted in that crush? How embarrassing. I suppose you overreacted and rushed me home. Am I correct?”
“Partly.” He pressed his fingers to her throat, trying to assure himself with her pulse. “Do you recall becoming ill?”
She frowned. “Perhaps. I think I told Oz that I was hot.”
“Oz Lockwood?”
“Yes. You know he is a friend.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Someone drugged you that night. Brock and I carried you out of the house screaming like a madwoman.”
An intangible thread of memory increased her unease. “I don’t recall any of this.” She tried to think of something, anything. Fear counted its way down her spine. “You said ‘that night.’ How long have I been insane?”
He kissed her lightly on the lips. “Not insane. Unconscious. You passed out three hours after our return home. It’s been two days, Devona.”
She silently mouthed the words. Two days were gone and she had lost her memory of that night. “How?”
“There is a mark on your back. We think someone came up from behind and scratched you with something that had been dipped with the drug. Whatever it was, it had to have been potent.”
Devona stared off, trying to put together the wisps of memory as if they were a complicated puzzle. There was laughter all around her. A woman. And something. It was sharp. The pieces turned, then fitted together perfectly. “A pin,” she said aloud. “A woman bumped into me. She apologized because her pin had scratched me.”
This news seemed to revitalize Tipton as readily as a night’s rest. His body hummed with excitement. “Who was it? Would you recognize her if you saw her again?”
“I—” She shook her head. “Her image escapes me, Rayne. It is akin to looking through a piece of piping. Everything is at a distance, and I can only focus on pieces of the memory. Forgive me for not being much help.”
He took the cup from her and placed it on the table. “There is no need to apologize for my irresponsible behavior, beloved.” Self-loathing hardened his features. “Your family has been quite forgiving, considering I almost got you murdered. Brock has restrained himself from issuing forth a single challenge.”
Devona shifted her position so she could rest against his chest. The rhythmic hammering of his heart was comforting. “You did not know—”
“The hell I didn’t,” he growled. “Nothing has happened for weeks. I thought, perhaps, we were too well guarded. Keeping you safe was important. However, I could not allow our mischievous friend to go unpunished for his deeds.” He tightened his arm around her. “I swear, I thought I was the intended victim. When I found you outside, screaming my name, I…” His words faded as the emotions from that night threatened to consume him.
Devona tilted her head so she could see his face. She had never seen him look so tortured. His bloodshot eyes were sunken and shadowed from fear and lack of sleep. His beard stubble tickled her hand when she reached up to stroke his cheek. “Still taking on the world single-handedly? I thought we were partners. Was that not part of our bargain?”
“To Hades with our bargain!” he fiercely declared. “You are my wife. I’m supposed to protect you.” The hand resting on his leg clenched into a fist. “Some protector. Maybe you should return to your family.”
She pulled back, not believing his words. “Return me? Like an unacceptable purchase? I’ll be the laughingstock of the ton!”
“Devona, that wasn’t what I meant.”
The more she thought about the suggestion, the madder she became. “You would like that, would you not? You have regretted our union from the start, and a little incident like getting poisoned gives you the perfect excuse to bow out.”
“Little incident? You could have died.”
“Fine. Embellish the facts, forgetting the point that I did not perish.”
“I’m supposed to be grateful?” he bellowed.
Stricken, she put her hand to her heart. “Oh, I suppose having me die would have tidied up this mess quite nicely.”
Rayne sprung off the bed. “Madam, you are driving me mad.”
Devona sat up on her heels. “Just try to send me back to my father. I vow all of London will hear of it. Think of the scandal.”
He had been stalking away when she issued her threat. Her words made him pivot and march back to her. Dragging her into his arms, he gave her a shake to gain her attention. “You silly idiot. Do you think this is some sort of lark? I want to keep you safe.”
She lifted her chin and squarely met his gaze. “Sending me back to my father is not the answer. Besides, I do not want to put him or the others in danger.”
Some undefined emotion flashed in his eyes. “I see you have no problem placing me in the path of risk.” Rayne loosened his grip on her arms.
She pulled away and wrapped them around his neck. “We’re partners. The bargain has been struck.”
He grimaced, not pleased with the reminder. “There will be no more wandering about on your own,” he warned. “I promise to take better care of you.”
I’ll protect you as well, my love, Devona silently vowed.
She sealed the pledge by kissing him on the lips.
SIXTEEN
“What are you doing here?”
Her brother had not bothered to loo
k up from his work. His back was to the door and Maddy would have sworn she had been quiet.
“I asked you a question, girl. Are you deaf or just impertinent?”
She moved closer to see what he was shielding with his body. “Probably the latter. What are you doing?” She peered over his shoulder and gasped. “Is that— That’s not … human?”
Tipton’s lips curved in grim amusement. “Mr. Kelly would be hurt to be referred to in such a manner. A man who sacrifices himself for science should be respected.”
An old sheet had been thrown over the lower half of the dead man’s body. Maddy placed the handkerchief she had been holding to her nose. Seeing a half-naked corpse was not distressing in itself as much as viewing the large gaping hole that used to be his chest. “The smell is just dreadful. How can you tolerate it?”
“It is amazing what you can put up with when you have no choice.”
It did not take the wisdom of age to know his statement could be applied to many circumstances, herself included. “Why do you do it? Cut up the dead, I mean.”
Tipton glanced at her, but her attention was focused on the corpse. “What would you say if I told you I do it because it amuses me? According to the rumors, I linger at deathbeds trying to capture their souls, then sup on their hearts.”
Seeing him hovered over a corpse, she could understand why people would believe such tales. There was something eerie about a man who preferred the dead to the living. “I cannot believe Devona would bind herself to a fiend.”
He chuckled. “Shallow praise, indeed. And indirect. What do you believe, Madeleina?” his voice echoed in the quiet, tomblike room.
She resisted the urge to hug her ribs, a useless attempt to banish her feelings of trepidation. “I think you enjoy your reputation too much.”
His brow lifted at her observation. “My wife has accused me of the same.” Efficient hands probed the chest cavity.
Maddy forced her gaze to return to his face. “Mama said you changed after the incident.”
“The incident. You make it sound like I committed an unforgivable public faux pas. My family buried me alive. It was blind luck there were two greedy men waiting around my grave to dig me up. Otherwise, this conversation would not be taking place.”
Maddy flinched at the bitterness in his tone. Once there were two brothers who bore the Wyman name. One was long dead, the other dead in heart, and she really knew nothing of either. “There was a sickness. It took many in the parish. Everyone thought they were going to die. Their mistake was understandable.”
Tipton halted his exploration. Dropping the small metal probe into a basin, he turned to her, his bloodied hands clamped into fists. “You know nothing. Your view has been tainted since your birth by Jocelyn.”
“I speak not of our mother, but of our grandmother.”
“Mum? She died when you were barely out of napkins.”
His voice and posture had subtly changed at the mention of their grandmother. There was at least one family member worthy of his affection. “I am surprised you were aware, since you did not remain at Foxenclover or in England for that matter.”
He muttered something under his breath that she could not understand. “If you believe I had a choice, you are mistaken.” He picked up his instrument and began to work again. “I will tolerate you in my house because my wife wishes it. Do not mistake the indulgence as an opportunity to befriend me. I have no desire to know you, Sister.”
Had that been her intention? If so, it had been an unconscious one. Still, his words struck at her like blows. She did not know she had allowed her heart to become as exposed as Mr. Kelly’s. “You despise me. Why? What have I ever done to you?” she demanded.
“You exist.”
Maddy sucked in her breath and took a step back. She had never been so openly hated before. “You blame me for something I had no control over? It would make more sense to blame our parents.”
“I have shocked you,” he observed, unmoved by her distress. “Truth is a rare commodity at Foxenclover. If it comforts you later when you cry into your pillow, I will admit that it is not you personally whom I despise.”
“Small comfort to go along with my shallow praise.” She blinked, almost surprised to feel the tears sliding down her cheeks. Idiot. She never cried. “You speak of truth, hate, symbolism, and choices, but you are forgetting one thing.” She took a few breaths to keep from crying openly in front of him.
“What?”
“Cowardice. You ran away from your home and birthright. It is much easier to blame an unborn sibling or a grief-stricken mother and grandmother than to face up to the fact you were too weak to do your duty by them!”
Tipton glared at her. In her wild imagination, she could almost feel his tightening fingers at her throat. He certainly seemed as though he were sizing her up for his dissecting table. “Your conception was nothing more than a replacement. A replacement for the beloved son who had died, and the one they thought possessed by the devil. It must have been such a disappointment to them that you were born female.”
Words to battle words. Her family was good at striking a killing blow. Maddy lifted her chin, showing that he had not broken her with his cruel statement. “I have always known my place, my lord. I remained and survived despite it.” She picked up her skirts and walked to the door, bearing a graceful dignity that would have made their demanding mother proud. “Hide behind your hate, Lord Tipton. I am not desirous of gaining your brotherly tenderness even if you served it up on a gold plate.”
* * *
Cowardice!
The word seemed so ruthless and cold in his dreaming brain that it jarred him to consciousness. The brief chat he had had with his sister must have disturbed him more than he thought. The audacity of that girl! She knew nothing of his life, how it had been after Devlin had died, with the surviving members of his own family warily staring at him like he was some sort of fiend, as Madeleina had called him.
There was a vein of truth to her words that bothered him. His mother seemed protective of his sister. He had always assumed that she had benefitted from their mother’s affection. Was Jocelyn still grieving for Devlin? So much so that it shadowed the joy of giving birth to a daughter?
Mum would have loved having a little girl to hold and spoil. He imagined she had filled the new baby’s life with love and attention, allowing her own daughter to bury the baby’s father, who soon followed the favored son and the absence of the unwanted second. Had Jocelyn’s disappointment been great enough that she heartlessly reminded her third child of her failure for not being born male? Mum must have died when the girl was four or five. She had been around long enough to be a kind memory but not long enough to protect Madeleina from her mother’s tongue. Was that the reason his sister chose to live outdoors, her gardens and surrounding woods her haven? It was the one place their mother abhorred, the one place Madeleina could find her peace.
Good Lord, he thought, rubbing the grit from his eyes. His sister battled him even in his mind. If he kept at it, by dawn he would be at her door, begging her forgiveness. He was fair-minded enough to accept that his dislike of her was unreasonable. He did not know her. He did not care to know her. If he opened his heart to her, he felt that it would mean he was forgiving his mother as well. He was not prepared to go that far. Not now. Maybe never. Madeleina was raised without her brother. She did not need him to become a grown woman.
Rayne rolled out of bed. He needed to do something or his sister’s words were going to haunt him the rest of the night. Not bothering to cover his nakedness, he padded over to the door connecting his room to Devona’s. She had been asleep when he retired, and he had not wanted to disturb her with his restlessness.
He entered the room, not needing a candle to light his way. Quietly he stopped beside her bed. She was asleep on her back, her arms resting above her head like a trusting child. Even in the darkness, her pale skin gleamed like pearls in the moonlight.
His sister forgotten,
Rayne gently peeled the blankets back. Devona’s nightdress was seductively draped over her right hip, exposing her legs. Just the sight of her aroused him, he mused, feeling his cock swell and rise as Devona’s luscious form beckoned. Of all the decisions he had made in his life, the taking of Devona as wife had been his brightest.
Not wanting to disturb her just yet, Rayne eased onto the bed beside her. Stretching his long frame out the full length of the bed, he rested his head on his arm while he considered the simplest means to remove her clothing. His first thought was to cut the nightdress off her. However, the last thing he wanted was for her to wake up and see him hovering over her wielding a knife. Knowing Devona, he thought the imagined delightful romp in bed would end with him requiring stitches.
Instead of giving in to the urge to just rip the garment off her, he decided to apply some of that great patience for which he was supposedly known. Hooking his finger under the hem, Rayne inched the fabric up, halting when she kicked fretfully at the discarded blanket he had pushed to the end of the bed. She sighed, slipping back into a deeper state of sleep.
Rayne released the nightdress. The majority of the fabric was piled up on her chest, leaving her exposed from the waist down. He wanted to see all of her, but he would have to wait.
Smiling, he placed his hand on her hip. He had never awakened her in such a manner, and looked forward to her reaction. With the barest touch of his fingertips he explored the undercurve of her breast. Delighted by her shivering reaction, he snaked his hand deeper under the fabric so he could circle one nipple, then the other. As he expected, her body was already aware of him. The petite nubs prickled at his caress. He swallowed thickly, wishing he could put his mouth to her flesh and suckle. During their brief marriage, he had learned that he could almost bring his wife to the brink of pleasure just by teasing her nipples with his lips and tongue.
Devona moaned and tried to shift away from him. Rayne stilled her by throwing one of his legs over hers to anchor her in place. As he leaned over her, his tongue replaced his fingers as he continued his sensual exploration. He kissed the soft curve of her breasts, as he shifted his position, moving southward down the center of her abdomen. Using the tip of his tongue, he playfully swirled the diameter of her navel, then tasted the indentation. She laughed aloud, and he lifted his head to see if he had awakened her.
The No Good Irresistible Viscount Tipton Page 22