Page 16 of Bad Luck Bride (Scandal at the Savoy #3)
D ue to Delia’s revelation, Kay paid even less attention to the second half of Don Carlo than she had the first. Instead, she spent the remaining ninety minutes of the performance wondering how, in the space of only a few short hours, Devlin Sharpe could have arranged for Westbourne’s tenants to vacate his luxurious ducal residence in Park Lane during the height of the upcoming season.
He and the duke scarcely even knew each other. And why would Devlin do such a thing? Remorse? Guilt?
Go to the devil. I owe you nothing more than what I’ve already done.
Those defiant words did not indicate a man suffering any pangs of conscience. If he even had a conscience, and that was something Kay found hard to credit.
By the end of the opera, however, she had come to one definite conclusion.
Regardless of how or why this had come about, she was not going to tell anyone that Devlin was the person responsible.
Josephine was young and impressionable, and the less said to her about Devlin Sharpe, the better.
And Wilson would hate the idea that his fiancée might be beholden to Devlin in any way.
As for her mother, if Magdelene learned That Horrible Man was somehow behind it, she’d faint dead away from the shock, and upon being revived with smelling salts, she might declare that they were obligated to refuse it, since Devlin must be playing some sort of cat-and-mouse game, and it would not do to be in his debt.
Kay knew her mother was probably right, but she couldn’t afford to turn down the duke’s splendid ballroom, despite who had arranged for it.
During the carriage ride back to the Savoy, Kay informed everyone of Delia’s news and her invitation to supper, hedging around the details, and by the time they reached the hotel, the other three members of her party had the distinct impression that Delia was solely responsible for securing the duke’s ballroom, accepting Kay’s explanations at face value, much to her relief.
That relief, however, vanished only moments after they had returned to the hotel.
As they started down the long corridor of reception rooms to the Mikado, she found that Devlin, Lady Pamela, and Lord and Lady Walston were walking directly ahead of them, and that she was not the only one to notice the fact.
“Kay,” Josephine whispered to her, pulling her back to let Wilson and her mother go in front of them, “do you see him? Do you?”
“Shush,” she replied in a sharp whisper, “or Mama will hear you. Yes, I see him. He’s going to a supper party, too, obviously. What of it?”
“What of it?” Josephine glanced ahead, then back at her. “I doubt you’ll be asking that in a second or two.”
Puzzled, Kay turned from Jo’s worried face to the corridor ahead, just in time to watch Devlin and his party join the queue of Delia’s guests gathering at the door to the Mikado Room.
“What in heaven’s name is he doing?” she muttered in horror. “Crashing Delia’s party?”
“Maybe he intends to make a scene or something?” Jo whispered back. “Perhaps we should leave?”
“An excellent idea.” With that, she lunged forward and grabbed her mother by the arm, pulling her back from Wilson’s side. “We have to leave, Mama. Now. At once.” But before Kay could say more, the matter was taken out of her hands. And by a most unlikely source.
“Mr. Sharpe,” Wilson called, causing Magdelene to gasp and Josephine to groan under her breath. For her part, Kay could only stare, appalled, as her fiancé stepped forward to give Devlin what appeared to be an amiable clap on the shoulder as he declared, “Good to see you again so soon.”
So soon? Kay’s mind echoed. What on earth did that mean?
“And you, Mr. Rycroft.” Devlin shook the other man’s hand without even glancing in her direction. “Have you met Lord and Lady Walston? And their daughter, Lady Pamela? You know that Lady Pamela and I are engaged to be married?”
Beside her, Magdelene sagged, letting out a low moan, and Kay nudged her with one foot. The last thing they needed right now was any of her mother’s histrionics.
“Of course I do,” Wilson was replying. “Why, I heard you discussing it with Lord Calderon this very afternoon.”
This afternoon? Wilson and Devlin had seen each other this afternoon?
Kay could only watch, dumbfounded, as her fiancé was introduced to Lord and Lady Walston, and she felt as if she were Alice from the children’s story, instead of stepping through the doorway of the Mikado Room at the Savoy, she’d just stepped through the looking glass and straight into Wonderland.
Wilson turned, beckoning to her, and rather like a marionette whose strings had just been pulled, Kay jerked forward, too dazed to do anything else.
“Have all of you met my fiancée, Lady Kay Matheson?” Wilson asked, his voice so nonchalant that it was almost as if he were unaware of the events of fourteen years ago.
Left with no choice, Kay donned a polite, friendly air.
“Lord and Lady Walston,” she greeted. “I believe the last time we saw you was at Lady Pamela’s graduation from Willowbank?
Lady Pamela, good to see you again as well.
Mr. Sharpe,” she continued, the rigorous training in social graces drummed into her during her own years at Willowbank coming to her aid and enabling her to sound casually indifferent.
She even managed a nod in his direction, though she did not quite meet his eyes.
“Congratulations on your engagement. All of you remember my mother, Lady Raleigh, of course, and my sister, Lady Josephine?”
Josephine was a brick, taking her cue from Kay perfectly, but her mother looked ready to live up to all Kay’s expectations and sink to the floor.
In the end, however, good breeding prevailed over Magdelene’s natural instinct for drama, and more stilted greetings were exchanged as the line moved forward and they entered the Mikado Room.
Ahead of her, Kay could see Delia and Calderon greeting the arriving guests, and she did not miss the shock on Delia’s face as Devlin reached her.
She cast a frantic glance in Kay’s direction, then at her other guests, who had not failed to notice the newest arrivals and were watching this scene unfold with avid curiosity.
Delia, left with little choice, took Devlin’s outstretched hand, giving Kay a look of apology.
“We shall have quite a crowd this evening, it seems,” she said after greeting him and the other members of his party.
“I hope we’ll have enough room for everyone.
Heavens, Simon,” she added, giving a tinkling, bell-like laugh as she turned to the tall, blond man beside her.
“I do wish you would warn me when you invite more people.”
Calderon glanced down the line, saw Kay, and raised an eyebrow. “I might say the same,” he murmured.
“If we’re to be married, darling,” Delia chided with another laugh, “we really must learn to communicate about these things in advance.”
“If it’s a problem,” Devlin said, “I can see the ma?tre d’h?tel about finding my party a table in the restaurant.”
His offer was negated at once, and by the last person Kay would have expected. “No, no,” Lady Pamela said, “that won’t be necessary, surely?”
Everyone, including her own parents, looked at her in surprise. Except Magdelene, who put her face in her hands and groaned again, earning herself another gentle kick of Kay’s evening slipper.
“After all,” Pamela went on, seeming oblivious to the disconcerted reactions around her, “it’s a bit silly, isn’t it, all of us trying to avoid each other, and for no reason other than some silly gossip from years ago?
Doesn’t it make far more sense for all of us to be friends?
There’s a London season ahead, and since Devlin and Lord Calderon and Mr. Rycroft are all doing business together now—”
“What?” Kay gasped, cutting the girl off mid-sentence, shock momentarily overcoming good manners.
“Sorry, my dear,” Wilson interjected smoothly, turning to her with a laugh.
“I haven’t yet had the chance to tell you.
Mr. Sharpe and I are both investors in Lord Calderon’s new hotel venture, along with a bunch of bigwigs you probably already know, like the Duke of Westbourne.
We held a meeting earlier today to discuss some of the details, approve a board of directors, that sort of thing. ”
Westbourne, too? Kay opened her mouth, but for the life of her, she could think of nothing to say.
“You don’t mind, of course?” Wilson went on, his gray eyes fixed on her in one of those hard, pointed stares of his, and with an effort, Kay gathered her wits.
“Mind?” she echoed, feigning surprise at the very idea, feeling as if she was fooling no one. “Why on earth would I mind?”
Wilson gave a slow, approving nod, as if she’d passed some sort of test, while Pamela clapped her hands together like a delighted child.
“It’s all settled, then,” the girl declared. “We’ll all stay. That is,” she added, turning to Delia, “if our hosts don’t mind? If it’s a problem of place settings or something—”
“Oh, that’s nothing,” Delia said with a wave of her hand. “This is the Savoy, after all. They can easily seat a few more. But I should hate for anyone to feel…” She paused again, looking at Kay. “Uncomfortable.”
Suddenly, it wasn’t only Delia looking at her, but everyone in the room, and Kay wanted to shout that feeling uncomfortable was an understatement.
But, of course, she couldn’t do that. She had to play the game.
It was the role she’d chosen in those first moments in the flower shop, one Wilson obviously wanted her to play now, one that would serve her best in the long run.
“I don’t see,” Kay said, meeting Delia’s inquiring gaze, “why anyone should feel uncomfortable. But if we are,” she added, forcing herself to make light of it all, “that means we’re all in desperate need of a drink.”