Page 14 of Bad Luck Bride (Scandal at the Savoy #3)

So long ago, and yet, she could remember everything about that first glimpse of Devlin Sharpe.

The light of the chandeliers above glinting off the unruly strands of his midnight-black hair.

His eyes, the only eyes she’d ever seen that were truly the color of turquoise, lighting on her.

His dark brows lifting, as if the sight of her somehow surprised him, and then, a faint smile curving the corners of his mouth as if the surprise was a very nice one indeed.

And then, he’d moved, heading straight for her, those brilliant eyes riveted on her face as if nothing else in the world existed.

His deep, well-bred voice asking Lady Rowland for an introduction and then asking her for a dance.

When he’d held out his hand to lead her to the floor, Kay had felt the sweet, stinging pain of hope, and gratitude, and joy, and sheer, stark terror.

And when he’d turned and taken her in his arms, her heart had seemed to leap out of her chest, tumbling right into his grasp.

Three months later, after only seven conversations and six stolen kisses, she’d agreed to give up everything in her safe, tidy world, to elope with him to Gretna Green and make a new life by his side on the other end of the globe.

They’d never made it to Africa, of course, or even Scotland, but long after the duke and his sisters had found them, persuaded her home, pulling her back from the brink of a wild, irrevocable decision, and returning her to sanity, her love for Devlin and her faith in him had remained unshaken.

If you don’t come with me now, you never will.

She hadn’t realized what he’d really meant by his fateful words that night in Birmingham: that if she didn’t come now, he’d leave her behind for good.

She’d thought he would see that the duke’s sisters had been right, that it was far better to engage in an honorable courtship, however much her parents disapproved, than to sneak off in the night.

She’d assumed he loved her enough to follow her home and patiently win her, that he would at least try to gain her father’s permission, or if that failed, that he would at least be willing to wait the three years until she was twenty-one and parental permission wasn’t needed.

Even when she’d been confronted by her father, when she’d faced his anger and disappointment with her, even when he’d banished her to their remotest estate in Wales, her love for Devlin had remained unshaken.

Even when she had learned he’d departed for Africa without her, even when twenty-six months had gone by with no word from him, she had still refused to believe he had abandoned her.

Until the day her father, impatient with her unwillingness to give Devlin up and exasperated by her intransigent refusal to consider marrying her cousin Giles instead, had told her the truth and showed her the proof of Devlin’s betrayal.

Staring at the canceled bank draft, she had been forced to realize what an idiot she had been.

The singing stopped, the music ended, and all around her, the crowd applauded, forcing Kay out of her contemplation.

As the lights came up, she came out of the past and into the present, away from the man who’d ruined her and toward the man saving her.

Away from the man who’d let himself be bought and toward a man who could buy anything, a man who could give her children and a secure future, who would provide for her mother and sister.

A man who, by his own words, thought very highly of her.

That, she thought, turning to look at him again, was so much better than love.

Wasn’t it?

“Kay?”

She blinked, realizing Wilson had just said something to her. “Hmm? Sorry, what did you say?”

“You’re staring at me awfully hard.” He laughed. “As if you’ve never seen me before.”

“Am I?” She echoed his laugh with one of her own, touching her fingers to her forehead. “How rude. I was lost in thought, I’m afraid.”

“Thoughts about what?”

“About you, of course,” she said lightly. “Now,” she added with a deep breath as she stood up, “I think I’ll take a turn downstairs while I have the chance. If everyone will pardon me?”

Wilson rose at once. “I’ll come with you.”

Suddenly, she felt stifled again, just as she had in the Savoy courtyard when he’d told her about following her across Yorkshire, just as she had felt with her mother in the dressmaker’s, and she wondered in chagrin if it was her destiny to be followed and hovered over and watched every minute of her entire life from birth to death.

“Oh, no, please. I’d prefer to go alone.

” The moment the words were out of her mouth, she realized how they must have sounded, and when Wilson frowned, she hastened into speech again, hoping she hadn’t hurt his feelings.

“I doubt you’ll wish to accompany me into the ladies’ withdrawing room,” she murmured, trying to look embarrassed at having to refer to such a delicate topic.

At once, Wilson’s face relaxed back into an expression of tolerant amusement. “I’d rather not.”

“That’s just as I thought. I’ll try to be back before the end of intermission.”

“I should hope so. It’s thirty minutes.”

She gave him a look of pity. “Really, darling. Women take forever in these matters. You’ve been married before. Surely you know that?”

“I’ve been a widower so long, I’d forgotten,” he admitted, took up her hand, and cupped it in both of his. “But is it wrong that I’ll miss you?” he asked.

She smiled. “If it is wrong, I don’t care. Miss away.”

“Heartbreaker.”

With a laugh, she pulled her hand free and left the box, joining the stream of people making their way to the lobby.

She made use of the ladies’ withdrawing room, and though it did not take as long as she’d implied to Wilson, the first warning gong had just sounded by the time she returned to the lobby, signaling only ten minutes until the end of intermission.

She started back toward the wide, sweeping staircase to return to her seat, but she’d barely taken three steps in that direction before she heard an airy feminine voice behind her calling her name.

“Kay, my dear!”

She turned to find a tall, slim brunette in burgundy velvet coming toward her, just the person she needed to speak with.

“Delia?” she cried in happy relief. “I thought you were in Paris.”

Before she could say more, however, she was engulfed in a soft wave of delicate French perfume and enveloped in an affectionate hug.

“I just got back a few days ago,” Delia said as they drew apart.

“And it’s been an absolute whirlwind since I stepped off the boat.

I shot a letter off to you at once, but of course, I didn’t know you were already here in town.

If I had, I’d have already called. Oh, Kay, I have so much news to tell you. For one thing…”

She paused and took a deep breath. “I’m engaged.”

Kay laughed. “What, again?”

Delia made a face. “Don’t tease. I suppose it is in rather bad taste, my marrying again, having been widowed three times in my life already, but that man is impossible to resist. Speaking of Calderon,” she added, glancing around, “I wonder where he’s got to.

He went off to order sandwiches and champagne for my box, and—”

“Calderon?” Kay interrupted in dismay, hoping she’d heard wrong. “You don’t mean Lord Calderon, who you had to work with at the Savoy?”

“The very same.”

“But—” Kay broke off, shaking her head, trying to assimilate this bit of news. “Last time we spoke, back in January, you told me how awful he is. You couldn’t stand him, you said.”

“I know, I know,” Delia replied, holding up her hands in a helpless gesture. “What can I say? It was all true at the time, but he wore me down, Kay.” She gave a deep, rapturous sigh. “He absolutely wore me down until I just couldn’t hold out against him any longer.”

In other circumstances, Kay might have laughed at such a declaration, for if anyone were prone to wearing anyone down, it was Delia. But at this moment, she didn’t feel much like laughing.

“I don’t know what to say,” she murmured at last. “And if you’re happy, of course I’m happy for you. But I confess, I don’t feel inclined to like your Lord Calderon very much. Not today, anyway.”

“Goodness, I know Simon drives me mad on occasion—which is probably why I adore him so much—but what’s he done to you? And I didn’t even know you’d ever met him.”

“I haven’t, but I learned just this afternoon that he’s friends with Devlin Sharpe. Did you know that?”

“Well…” Delia paused, shifting her weight, tugging on one diamond-bedecked earlobe, a gesture she was always inclined to do when caught out.

“And while we’re on the subject,” Kay went on in the wake of her friend’s guilty silence, “why didn’t you tell me Devlin is the one who took the Pinafore from me?”

Delia grimaced. “Found out about that, did you?”

“I did. What I want to know is why I didn’t find it out from you.”

“I wanted to wait until I could present you with an alternative. I thought that might take the sting out of it, so to speak.”

“When I found out, it was quite a shock. And now to find out that you’re engaged to his best friend, the man who helped him take it. And you didn’t tell me any of this? Really, Delia! You should have told me.”

“I know, I know. My mistake, but surely, his friendship with Sharpe is no reason for you to dislike Simon, I hope? We all have friends our other friends don’t like, and we tolerate it. If we didn’t,” she added, laughing, “I’m sure we’d have no friends at all!”

“Delia, this isn’t funny,” she chided. “Especially since it’s clear Lord Calderon is the reason I don’t have the Pinafore Room. He canceled my reservation and gave it to Devlin, didn’t he?”