Page 22 of Bad Luck Bride (Scandal at the Savoy #3)

“So…” She paused, folded the list and put it in her pocket, then took his hands, biting her lip as she looked up at him hopefully. “Should we call on Lady Shrewsbury this afternoon and see if she’d be willing to give us a tour of the place today?”

Marriage, he reminded himself, required compromises.

As she’d pointed out, a London residence would certainly be desirable later on, and in the meantime, it was a sound investment.

“Why not?” he answered. “It never hurts to look. Why don’t you fetch your mother,” he added, nodding to where Lady Walston was studying a splendid flower bed of narcissus, “while I secure us a cab?”

Her radiant smile was his reward, but as he stepped onto Northumberland Avenue to hail a growler, Devlin couldn’t quite shake off his uneasiness, and he decided that if he and Pam did purchase a London house, he’d best arrange for a tenant and sign a lease straightaway, before she started asking his preferences in furniture and measuring for new drapes.

In the days that followed the opera supper, Kay saw nothing of Devlin, much to her relief.

It was three weeks later, when an invitation came in the afternoon post, that Kay was reminded she could not avoid him altogether.

Kay gave a sigh, staring down at the penned words of the card without enthusiasm.

The Duke of Westbourne

Requests the honor of your presence at a soiree

To celebrate the grand opening of the Mayfair Hotel

The Twenty-Third of April

Eight o’clock in the Evening

The Victoria Room

Mayfair Hotel

12 Hamilton Place, Mayfair

The Mayfair was that hotel of Devlin’s, the one that Wilson was also involved in, and Kay’s mind immediately began fashioning reasons to refuse the invitation.

A conflicting engagement (which was always possible), or the illness of dear Mama (who would be happy to play at having a cold in order to avoid any event where That Horrible Man was sure to be), or perhaps womankind’s most convenient excuse and one she had used on her mother only a few weeks ago (the sudden headache).

Kay tapped the card against her palm, but as she considered which of these options would be most convincing, an image of Devlin’s face came into her mind, his insolent smile, the knowing gleam of amusement in his eyes, and she appreciated that whatever excuse she gave, none would be convincing enough to fool him.

Kay yanked her pen from its holder, telling herself it didn’t matter what Devlin thought. That reminder had barely gone through her mind before a question followed it.

What about Wilson? How would he feel if she refused to attend this affair?

She remembered quite clearly how her fiancé had hauled her forward that night at the Savoy supper, and she very much feared he would insist she attend. If she balked, whatever the reason, he could be very displeased. He might even be angry.

Kay’s gaze strayed to the stack of unpaid bills on the corner of her desk. Angering Wilson was not something she could afford to do. Kay sighed again.

“Is something wrong?”

Kay glanced at Josephine, seated at the nearby table, frowning at her over the stack of her own letters, then she looked over her shoulder at the half-closed door into their mother’s bedroom where Magdelene was taking her usual rest after tea. “Of course not,” she answered. “Why do you ask?”

“You’ve sighed at least three times in the last fifteen seconds. What’s the trouble?”

Kay hesitated, but the faint sound of Magdelene’s snoring reassured her that her mother was sound asleep. “I have an invitation here from the Duke of Westbourne. I’ve no doubt Mama got one, too, and since the duke’s family knows you’re out, I expect you’ve got one as well.”

“Me?” Josephine instantly dropped the letter she’d been opening and began rooting through her pile of correspondence. “What sort of event is it? Oh, do say it’s a ball.”

“Sorry, no. The duchess is expecting a baby, so she and the duke are not doing the season this year, remember? He just comes down, I understand, for the Lords, or for events like this soiree. It’s for the grand opening of that new hotel of his, the Mayfair.”

Josephine’s hands stilled and her eyes widened as she looked up. “The Mayfair?” she cried, her voice rising in surprise. “Isn’t that Devlin Sharpe’s hotel, too?”

“Shush,” Kay ordered, casting another glance at Mama’s bedroom. “Keep your voice down. Mama’s sleeping.”

“Sorry. But that is the one, isn’t it?” she added in a whisper as she rose and crossed the room to Kay’s side. “Or have I got it mixed up?”

“No, you’re quite right.”

Josephine paused beside her chair, looking thoroughly let down. “Well, then, we certainly won’t be going.”

Kay made a face. “We might have to. Wilson’s involved in that hotel as well, if you recall.”

“Mama won’t like it if we go.”

“No,” Kay agreed. “And Wilson won’t like it if we don’t. You remember how he practically dragged us into that opera supper.” Again, she glanced at the bills on her desk. “No, dear sister, I’m afraid Wilson’s wishes trump Mama’s.”

“What about you?” Josephine asked. “What do you want to do?”

“Do you need to ask? I’d rather have teeth drawn than be anywhere near Devlin Sharpe.”

“Well, then, refuse it. Wilson surely won’t want you attending an affair you don’t want to attend.”

“Won’t he? Still…” Kay paused, considering, then reached for a sheet of stationery, her mind made up. “You’re quite right. Why should I go to something I don’t wish to?”

The matter settled, Jo returned to her own letters, and Kay inked her pen, but she’d barely written the words, “With regret,” before Devlin’s amused voice echoed through her mind.

Running away?

Kay paused and set her jaw, working to shove his provoking words out of her mind.

Of course, if you’d rather scurry off like a frightened rabbit…

She was not a rabbit, and she certainly wasn’t afraid of him .

It was both galling and infuriating that he thought so.

Suppressing an oath, Kay shoved aside the sheet of paper, reached for a fresh one, and before she could change her mind again, she had accepted the duke’s invitation and sealed her acceptance inside an envelope.

Her mother would be a trial, and the evening would be unpleasant, but Kay consoled herself with the knowledge Wilson would be pleased, and pleasing Wilson was her most important duty.

Nonetheless, as she gave the letter of acceptance to her mother’s maid to post, she knew full well the real reason she was accepting had nothing to do with pleasing her fiancé.

No, she was going to this soiree because she had no intention of letting Devlin Sharpe ever accuse her again of being a coward.

She’d hurl herself onto the train tracks before she’d ever let him have the satisfaction.

Kay knew, probably better than anyone, that impulsive decisions could lead to surprising and unintended consequences, a fact that was brought forcibly home to her that evening when Wilson called at her suite on his way to a business meeting, and she launched the topic of the Mayfair.

“I hear this new hotel of yours is opening in less than a fortnight,” she began as she poured him a whiskey.

“Yes, I know. Calderon’s got some big grand opening party on in honor of it.” He paused, giving her a look that was almost apologetic as he took the offered glass of whiskey from her. “My attendance will be required, of course.”

“Of course,” she agreed as she poured a small glass of sherry for herself. “No doubt that is why I also received an invitation.”

Wilson stilled, his glass halfway to his lips. “You got one?”

“Yes. So did Mama, of course, and Josephine. Would you care to fetch us in your carriage, or shall we meet you there?”

He lowered his glass, staring at her as if she’d suddenly grown a second head. “My dear Kay, you won’t be going.”

She stared, not sure she’d heard right. “I beg your pardon?”

“As I said, I must attend, but there’s no reason for you to be there.”

She thought again of that night at the opera supper when he’d insisted on hauling her forward to converse with Devlin, his fiancée, and his future in-laws, and her confusion deepened. “I’d have thought you’d want me to be there,” she said slowly. “But you don’t want us to go?”

“Of course I don’t. What a question. I don’t want you anywhere near that scoundrel Devlin Sharpe.”

“But… but… the other night…” She paused, laughing a little at the vagaries her fiancé possessed. He really was the most unpredictable man. “Three weeks ago at the opera supper, you practically dragged me into Calderon’s supper party and behaved as if we were all happy as clams together.”

“Of course I did.” Wilson shrugged and took a sip of whiskey.

“But only because at that point there was no graceful way to bow out. When you told me Lady Stratham had invited us to supper, I was quite glad to attend, with her fiancé being a business partner of mine. And she’s got a lot of influence in society as well, so keeping in with her will be good for Charlene down the road. ”

Kay winced at her fiancé’s opportunistic way of putting things. Once they were married, she hoped she’d be able to help him smooth over those rough edges.

“And she’s the duke’s cousin,” he went on. “Cozying up to her helps me get closer to him.”

As he spoke, Delia’s words of that night at the opera flashed through Kay’s mind.

You mean Rycroft’s marrying you for your connections?

“I see,” she murmured, a bad taste suddenly in her mouth.

“It never occurred to me that Sharpe would be there. That’s the worst of these impulsive, last-minute invitations. One never knows who one might encounter. Had I known Sharpe was going, I would have insisted you send Lady Stratham a note with some excuse. Sudden illness, or something like that.”

Kay was now totally confused. “But isn’t Sharpe a business partner, too?”