Fallen Angel by Elizabeth Thornton

Author:Elizabeth Thornton [Thornton, Elizabeth]
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2010-01-28T07:07:03+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

The Viscount Deveryn winced imperceptibly as he descended the steps from his rooms on Jermyn Street. He turned hard right and set off in the direction of his club in St. James, a mere stone's throw from his lodgings. Sheer force of will kept his back straight and an indolent half-smile fixed on his lips. Despite two bruised ribs, and against doctor's orders, he had dragged himself from his sick bed to perform what he considered to be a distasteful though necessary duty. It was his design to face down the cajolery of his peers and squelch the report he half-expected would be circulating, that he had taken Cynthia Sinclair to be his mistress.

The irony of his situation was not lost upon him. Little more than a month before, he had been at some pains even then to conceal the identity of his former mistress. His object, as he remembered, was to spare his mother's feelings. And he had succeeded. How much more imperative did it appear to him now to conceal from Maddie the knowledge that Cynthia Sinclair and he, Deveryn, had been discovered in a compromising position in his bed-chamber at the Falcon in Grantham; And irony of ironies, on this occasion he was innocent of wrongdoing!

He was also furious with Maddie. In some sort, he blamed her for his present predicament, for if she had been present on that long tedious drive from Edinburgh to London, it would have been she in his bed, and this farce need never have run its course! And most iniquitous of all, she had deprived him, the husband who loved her, of his conjugal rights. The long nights of passion which he had anticipated with such pleasure had been rudely snatched from him. He supposed that his disclosure that Cynthia was to be his pensioner had been the prod for Maddie's impetuous flight. Who could say with Maddie? Her thought processes were an enigma to him. Intimidation and brute strength seemed the only means of compelling her attention. When he finally caught up with her, he intended to blister her backside till she could not sit down for a week.

The thought sobered him. When he caught up with Maddie, there would be the devil to pay, no matter which report of Grantham got back to her. Better by far, he grimly decided, that she believe the woman who had been discovered in his chamber was anyone, anyone other than Cynthia Sinclair.

He slowly manoeuvered himself across St. James Street and with as light a step as he could contrive, ascended the stairs to the entrance of White's. His eyes flicked to the bow window on his left. Brummel and Alvaney were already ensconced at their familiar posts, lazily surveying the passers-by and the patrons who entered the hallowed portals of White's and the less exalted, adjacent Boodles and Brooks, the Whig stronghold across the street.

In the lobby, he encountered Raggett, the proprietor. Rumour had it that the old man swept the

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