Page 23 of Bad Luck Bride (Scandal at the Savoy #3)

“Yes, but surely you realize that’s not the same thing. Sharpe’s not a social acquaintance. He’s got no title and no social influence. And the man’s a bounder, as we both know. I refuse to allow you anywhere near him if it can be avoided.”

“Refuse to allow?” Kay echoed with a little laugh. “Indeed? How terribly medieval of you, darling.”

Wilson did not laugh with her. Instead, he frowned. “You can’t possibly think I’d feel any other way?”

“I did think just that,” she confessed. “It being a business dinner, I thought you’d want me by your side.”

“Women should never think about business matters. You always get things wrong.”

Kay was a bit irritated by this sweeping generalization about her sex, but, tactfully, she didn’t show it. Instead, she stuck to the topic at hand. “You just said how important keeping in with the duke is, so I thought—”

“That’s what I don’t get,” he interrupted. “What was the duke thinking to even invite you? Seems in thoroughly bad taste to me.”

Kay shrugged. “Not really. I’ve known the duke all my life. His sister Idina, Lady Rothmere, and his cousin, Lady Delia Stratham, have long been friends of mine. We all came out together. I’m sure one of them did the invitations. They probably felt as I did, that you’d want me there.”

“If so, it was damned silly of them, and you. I’m surprised at you, Kay. You will write immediately and refuse the invitation.”

She stiffened, her irritation deepening at this criticism of herself and her friends, and by the peremptory way he dictated what her actions would be. “Are you forbidding me to go?”

“Since you put it that way, yes.”

Kay thought of all the times her father had forbidden her to go to an event, of the rigidity with which she’d been controlled as a girl, of the two years she’d spent banished to Wales, and something rose inside her, a feeling she hadn’t felt since the summer she turned eighteen—a sudden flash of rebellion, the same sort of rebellion that had sent her careening off to Gretna Green with Devlin.

She knew the high price one could pay for such impulsive decisions, but despite that, and despite the fact that she had not initially wanted to go to this soiree in the first place, the idea of being ordered not to go impelled her to debate the point.

“Well, I’m sorry if that’s how you feel about it,” she answered. “But I’m afraid it’s too late to refuse. I already accepted the invitation.”

“What?”

“As I said, I had thought surely you would want me to go. It never occurred to me that you would object. Now I have to go.”

“Nonsense. Write again and take back your acceptance.”

“I can’t do that,” she said, feeling an incomprehensible hint of pleasure in conveying that bit of news. “One does not renege on an accepted invitation, especially not to a duke.”

He shrugged. “You can think of something that won’t offend him. You forgot you had a prior engagement. Or something unexpected has occurred. Or feign illness. He can hardly take offense to you being ill.”

All of these were excuses she herself had considered, but Kay had no intention of exercising any of them now that her acceptance had been tendered. “Lie to the duke?” she said. “I’m astonished that you would suggest such a thing.”

“Your astonishment is of no account.”

Kay stiffened at those dismissive words. “But—”

“You will write to the duke,” he cut in, “and refuse the invitation, or I will do it for you.”

The tenor of his voice brooked no opposition. His displeasure with her was palpable, warning her it was best not to antagonize him further, but before Kay could invent a reply that would both enable her to stand her ground and defuse his anger, another voice entered the conversation.

“I hope this isn’t a disagreement I’m hearing,” Magdelene said brightly as she entered the sitting room, Josephine on her heels.

Kay took a deep breath and turned to her mother, grateful for the interruption. “Not at all, Mama. The Duke of Westbourne is having a soiree for the opening of his new hotel, and we’ve all been invited. But because Mr. Sharpe also owns part of the hotel, he’s sure to be there as well.”

“What an appalling prospect,” Magdelene cried, giving a shudder. “We can’t possibly go.”

“Just what I was saying, Lady Raleigh,” Wilson interjected before Kay could reply. “I have explained to Kay that she will have to make some excuse.”

“And I explained to Wilson,” Kay put in, “that I have already accepted the invitation.”

“Kay!” Magdelene cried. “What were you thinking?”

“I thought,” she said uncompromisingly, “that Wilson would want me to accept.”

“That’s true,” Josephine put in, coming to her defense. “She did. We discussed it.”

Josephine was ignored.

“Well, now we have to go,” Magdelene wailed. “Oh, dear. Oh, dear. This is a fine kettle of fish.”

Wilson’s glass slammed down on the top of the liquor cabinet loudly enough to make all three women jump, but when he spoke, his voice was silky—dangerously so. “Kay is not going. I refuse to allow it. I hope,” he added, turning to her mother, “that’s clear?”

Mama visibly wilted. Swallowing hard, she nodded.

Just like with Papa , Kay thought, dismayed by the realization. Some things never changed.

“Now,” Wilson said, breaking into Kay’s suddenly bleak thoughts, “I have to be going. I have a dinner meeting.”

“Wait,” Kay implored, following him as he started for the door. “Can we not at least discuss this?”

He paused, turning to give her that hard stare of his, but Kay didn’t want to become her mother, not if she could help it. She didn’t wilt. Instead, she took a deep breath and improvised. “I’m thinking of Josephine. She really ought to be allowed to go.”

“Of course she can go,” he said as he opened the door into the corridor. “Magdelene can take her. You will stay here with a sick headache.”

“But, really—”

“My dear Kay.” He paused, the door half open, and leaned close to her. “I’m thinking of Josephine, too,” he said so softly that only she could hear. “I’m thinking of the dowry she’ll need to marry well.”

He had just played the trump card, and they both knew it.

Once again feeling a bit like a puppet on a string, Kay forced herself to smile. “Of course. Shall we see you on Friday for the Royal Academy opening?”

He gave a nod of agreement and departed, much to Kay’s relief, but the door had barely closed behind him before Magdelene let out a wail.

“Oh, Kay,” she cried, “you mustn’t antagonize him. You simply mustn’t!”

“I hadn’t meant to,” she murmured, rubbing a hand over her forehead with a sigh.

“If he breaks the engagement, what will happen to us? How will we pay our bills? Where will we live? Without Wilson, we’ll be destitute.

” Her voice was rising dramatically with every word, but Kay knew that Magdelene was not merely giving in to her histrionic instincts.

The fear her mother felt was deep and genuine.

“And what about Josephine?” Magdelene continued when she didn’t reply. “How will she ever—”

“Don’t bring me into this!” Josephine cried. “Kay needs to do what’s best for her. We’ll be all right, whatever happens.”

“Thank you, darling,” Kay said, but she knew Jo was being na?ve. She sank into a chair, suddenly, terribly tired. “Don’t worry,” she added, giving her sister a reassuring smile. “It’s all a fuss about nothing. After all, I didn’t really want to go to the blasted party anyway.”

She didn’t add that she also knew when she was beaten. That admission was too wretched to make out loud.