Page 12 of Bad Luck Bride (Scandal at the Savoy #3)

“Then it was your maid. Or one of the duke’s servants.

Or,” he added as she again shook her head, “perhaps someone that one of us knew saw us together on the train to Birmingham, or at the train station, or at the inn where we stopped that night. Maybe the chambermaid at the inn or another servant there put it all together and got a nice bit of money for telling Delilah Dawlish all about it. How does anyone know how secrets like this get out? But they often do. It’s quite obvious that someone told, but it was not me.

The only person on my side to whom I have ever confessed the truth about what happened was Calderon. ”

“Well, then, we know how the scandal got out, don’t we?”

“Not possible. I didn’t even admit to him my denials were a hum until long after the whole mess was public knowledge. Besides, Calderon would never have told anyone what really happened. He’s straight as a die.”

“Not so straight, since he discarded my reservation of the Pinafore Room and gave it to you.”

“I’m sure it was just a mix-up. We didn’t steal the blasted thing out from under you. Hell, I didn’t even know you were engaged again until you told me the news yourself this morning in the flower shop.”

“So it’s just a coincidence that Lord Calderon, your closest friend, took away my reservation for the Pinafore Room and gave it to you?”

“Since I never asked Calderon to take it from you, and since Calderon would never comply with such a dishonorable request anyway, even for my sake, then, yes, a coincidence is exactly what it is. And in any case, it’s just a banqueting room. I can’t see why that is something to make a fuss about—”

“Don’t you?” she cried. “Then allow me to enlighten you on the subject. When the rumors got out, I was ruined, jilted by my fiancé, abandoned by most of my friends, and shunned by nearly everyone in society. I was in virtual exile. No man would look at me twice. It’s taken me over a decade to rebuild my reputation. ”

He pressed his lips together and looked away. He tried to take refuge in his own righteous indignation with the reminder that she wasn’t the only one who had suffered the consequences of their mutual decision to elope, but he found little consolation in that.

“I’m fully aware of what you’ve endured, Kay,” he said at last.

“You may be aware of it, but you can’t possibly know what it’s been like.”

“No,” he admitted, the concession bitter on his tongue. “I suppose not.”

“Well, it’s been hell. Mud slung at me, doors slammed in my face, me having to bow and scrape to anyone in society who’ll give me half a chance, watching everything I do and every word I say, knowing I can’t afford to make a single misstep.

I have finally managed to be grudgingly accepted again, but not by everyone.

Even after all this time, though not a whisper of scandal has touched my name in over a decade, there are those who still see me as damaged goods, who ridicule me behind my back, or pity me, or look down their noses at me.

It’s a miracle I found any man willing to marry me at all.

The only way I will ever be able to lay this sordid episode to rest for good is to have my wedding be the event of the season, with as many of the people I’ve been bowing and scraping to in attendance as I can muster, both at the ceremony and at the wedding banquet afterward.

But that plan is curtailed now, thanks to you. ”

“If you’ve been so disgraced, what makes you think all those people will come to your wedding anyway?”

The smile that curved her lips was a bitter one, ironic, without a shred of humor.

“Because we English have such a deep-seated sense of fair play. People will climb over themselves to come and watch me be washed clean. And afterward, they’ll gladly toast my future happiness and nod wisely to each other, and say, ‘Well, my dear, I never believed those silly rumors about her to begin with.’”

That, he supposed with a grimace, was a pretty fair take on the British character. “We English are awful humbugs, aren’t we?”

“Yes. The more people there to witness my rehabilitation, the stronger it will be. But that requires St. Paul’s Cathedral, and a banquet room that can seat all the influential people I’ve spent a decade bowing and scraping to.

Thanks to you, however, I now have to decide who I must cut from my guest list because there isn’t another banquet room available in any decent part of London that is large enough.

I know that because I’ve spent the past two months looking for one. ”

He set his jaw, working to don the armor of indifference as he forced himself to look at her again.

“All that’s a shame, and I am very sorry for it, Kay, I truly am, but I did not take the Pinafore from you on purpose.

As for the rest, I am not responsible for how word about our elopement got out any more than you are, believe me. ”

Uncertainty flickered across her face, but when she spoke, her voice was unrelenting. “I don’t see why I should believe you about anything.”

He gave it up. “Then we seem to be at an impasse, for I see no reason to stand here all night rehashing the matter and engaging in round after round of no-I-didn’t and yes-you-did. It would be a waste of breath.”

Her chin lifted, and that, he well knew, meant trouble. “I can think of a way you could convince me.”

He drew a deep breath, knowing he had to ask, sure he would regret it. “How?”

“Tell your fiancée the truth.”

Devlin frowned, uncomprehending. “What purpose would that serve? Like everyone else, she already knows my denials about the elopement were lies, so—”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“What, then?”

“Tell her that she can’t have the Pinafore Room because, due to some muddle, the room was already taken by someone else when you made the reservation.”

“The someone in question being you, a fact she is sure to discover in very short order.”

She shrugged, clearly indifferent to the hot water that would land him in. “You’re a glib fellow, God knows. You’ll think of a palatable way to break it to her.”

“Right,” he replied with a laugh. “I’m to tell my current fiancée—who, by the way, desires a banquet room every bit as big as yours—that she can’t have the Pinafore because my former fiancée wants it and I’m giving it to her. Is that how this is supposed to go?”

“You aren’t giving it to me. I already had it when you reserved it. I’m merely asking you to explain that to her. And I think you owe me that one little favor, at least.”

He thought back to those first years in Africa, all the hard work he’d done, thinking he was making a future for them only to read in a newspaper that she was throwing him over to marry her cousin, a man who had money and a title and her father’s approval.

His heart turned to ice.

“Go to the devil.” He paused to retrieve his towel from the floor and loop it back across his shoulders. “I owe you nothing more than what I’ve already done.”

She shook her head. “Selfish to the end.”

“So it would seem.” He reached around her, nudging her to one side as he opened the door. “Now, as I said before, I have an engagement. So unless you want me to use force and shove you out into the corridor, you’d best depart of your own volition.”

She exhaled a sharp sigh, but much to his relief, she turned away to depart.

“So delightful of you to come by,” he said to her back as she walked out into the passage. “We really must have another visit soon.”

Her reply was to pull the door shut behind her with a loud, decisive bang.

Devlin turned away from the closed door and started back toward the bathroom, but he’d barely reached the other end of the sitting room when there was another tap on the door.

With an oath, he retraced his steps and reached for the door handle. “By God, Kay,” he said as he opened the door, “if you’ve come back to flay me again—”

He broke off at the sight of the Savoy footman standing in the corridor with Devlin’s clothes draped over his arm.

“Your evening suit, sir. Would you care for valeting assistance?”

“I would,” he replied, relieved by the offer of help, though it was probably already too late for a few minutes of assistance to matter.

And his relief was short-lived, in any case, for as the footman assisted him to dress, he had little to do but stand still and hear Kay’s anguished words echo through his mind.

I was ruined… it’s taken me over a decade to rebuild my reputation.

Devlin’s conscience, pesky devil that it was, nudged him again, and he hated that even after she’d broken his heart and forsaken him for her cousin, she could still make him feel as if he were the villain.

He stirred, restless, shifting his weight, and the footman looked up from the stud he was fastening into the bib of Devlin’s shirt. “Sir?”

“It’s nothing,” he assured the fellow. “Carry on.”

The stud snapped into place, but even as the footman helped Devlin into his waistcoat, knotted his white tie, and assisted him in sliding his arms into the sleeves of his evening coat, Kay’s words still pounded his conscience like a drumbeat.

Mud slung at me, doors slammed in my face, me having to bow and scrape to anyone in society who’ll give me half a chance…

“Your hat, sir.”

Relieved by the distraction, Devlin came out of his reverie and accepted his top hat. “Thank you…”

He let his voice fade, giving the footman an inquiring look.

“Myers, sir,” the young man supplied.

“Thank you, Myers. Will you be able to assist me when I return? It’ll be late, well after midnight.”

“That’s all right, sir,” the servant replied, slinging Devlin’s evening cloak over his shoulders. “I’m here until nearly dawn anyway. Just ring downstairs and ask for me.”

After handing over another tip, Devlin followed the footman out the door. Along with half a dozen other guests, he took the lift down to the ground floor, but even the lively conversation that swirled all around him as they descended to the lobby was not enough to drown out Kay.

Even after all this time, though not a whisper of scandal has touched my name in over a decade, there are those who still see me as damaged goods, who ridicule me behind my back, or pity me, or look down their noses at me.

The lift came to a stop with a little jerk, and he stepped out into the lobby with the others. Rather like salmon in a river, they streamed toward the doors, Kay’s voice overriding talk of the theater and the opera that swirled and eddied around him.

The only way I will ever be able to lay this sordid episode to rest for good is to have my wedding be the event of the season…

The doorman held back the plate-glass door, and Devlin stepped out into the cold, damp spring night.

But that plan is curtailed now, thanks to you…

“Damn,” he muttered, stopping in his tracks, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “Damn, damn, damn.”

Ignoring the curious stare of the doorman, Devlin turned around and recrossed the lobby, noting grimly how late he was with a glance at his pocket watch as he made his way to the front desk.

“May I help you, Mr. Sharpe?” the clerk asked.

Devlin shoved his watch back into his waistcoat pocket and looked up with a resigned sigh, wondering how late he was going to be due to the inconvenient pangs of his conscience and if that would put him irretrievably beyond the pale with his future mother-in-law. “Where can I find a telephone?”