Page 37 of Bad Luck Bride (Scandal at the Savoy #3)

D evlin watched Kay walk away, the hem of her teal green dress and the white petticoats beneath churning behind her with the force of her strides like turbulent ocean waves, her angry words still ringing in his ears.

She was right, of course. By any standards of gentlemanly conduct, he was a cur. He’d been flaying himself for days with what he’d done to wreck her life in the past, and yet, given the chance, he’d just done it again in the present.

In the space of about fifteen minutes, he’d ruined Kay’s prospects, betrayed his own fiancée, and cuckolded another man, and he ought to feel guilty as hell about all that.

But, sadly, he didn’t.

His father had always called him the devil’s spawn, and perhaps he was, because his body was burning like hellfire, lust was raging through his veins, and despite how strongly he reminded himself of how abhorrent his conduct had been, he just couldn’t work up the proper amount of regret over it.

That might be due in part to the fact that no hearts had been broken tonight.

Love, as he well knew, had played no part in Kay’s engagement to Rycroft nor his to Pam.

And, thankfully, there had been no witnesses to carry the embarrassing news of what had happened tonight to the poisonous pens of London’s gossipmongers.

None of that excused him, of course, and there would be repercussions for what he’d done, painful repercussions he would need to face and atone for to whatever extent was possible.

First, he needed to see Pam and apologize.

Whether she’d accept it or not was open to question, for Pam had a considerable amount of pride, and he’d just shredded it to ribbons, so she might not see her way clear to forgiving him.

She might very well end the engagement, but even if she didn’t end it, he would have to do so.

A man was not supposed to break an engagement, but Devlin knew he could not marry Pam now. The illusions he’d held about how his life could be had been shattered tonight. There was no going back.

A few months ago, he’d felt sure he was ready to settle down, sure enough time had passed that he could finally build a future with someone who was not Kay.

But one taste of Kay’s mouth had shown him just how thoroughly he’d been deceiving himself.

Being free of her, he realized grimly, was a mirage.

He could cross the world a dozen times, another fourteen years could pass, and yet he knew now that one thing would always remain the same.

From the moment he’d seen Kay’s silvery green eyes look at him across that ballroom floor so long ago, she’d captured his heart and sealed his fate.

Kay was his destiny, and there was no escape from that.

His way forward now was crystal clear, but there was one gigantic problem.

He turned, staring through the French doors to the drawing room, thinking again of Kay’s anguished questions and angry departure, and he very much feared they did not have the same view about destiny.

Kay had no opportunity to speak to Wilson that evening.

Not that she had any idea what she could have said to him given the shameless scene he’d just witnessed, a scene that had only confirmed that his jealousy had not been completely unreasonable.

He deprived her, however, of the opportunity to say anything at all, for upon her return to the drawing room, she learned that he had retired for the night.

Lady Pamela, too, had gone to bed, and after the mortifying events of the evening, who could blame her? Who could blame either of them?

Following their example, Kay also went to bed, but that did her little good. For the second night in a row, she found herself devastatingly wide awake, fuming, fretting, and staring at the ceiling, though for very different reasons.

Last night, she’d been plagued by doubts about her upcoming wedding, but if the look on Wilson’s face tonight was anything to go by, there very well might not be a wedding, and with the acknowledgment of that possibility came not only the remorse of having subjected two innocent people to a humiliating spectacle, but also gut-wrenching fear, the same fear she’d experienced right after learning that Papa had left the family destitute.

If Wilson broke with her over this, she wouldn’t blame him one bit, and if he did, she knew what would happen next.

The bank that had been loaning her money based on her expectations would cut her off the moment her broken engagement became public knowledge, and they would demand repayment of what had already been borrowed.

The Savoy would, understandably, kick them out of their rooms. They’d have to leave London, putting an end to Josephine’s season before it had really begun.

Kay knew her own situation would be even more dismal.

At best, another broken engagement would subject her to a fresh round of gossip and speculation.

Worse, if Wilson or Lady Pamela chose to relay the events they had witnessed to anyone else, and the news spread, Kay would once again be deemed a strumpet.

If that happened, Kay’s past sins would come back to haunt her, and she doubted any amount of time and effort would rehabilitate her this time.

She’d probably never mingle in society again.

And that would put the lid on Josephine’s marital hopes as well.

Few men wanted a penniless girl and a disgraced sister-in-law.

And even if such a paragon existed, how could Jo ever meet him?

Without a season, carted across the country from hotel to hotel every few weeks, the prospects for the girl would be dim, especially if they were forced to go abroad.

And what about her mother? Some might say Magdelene didn’t deserve any consideration after what she’d done to ruin Kay’s chances years ago, but Kay, sadly, just couldn’t work up the proper rage for such a view.

She’d been driven to be desperate enough to marry a man for financial security, and despite Magdelene’s deceit, Kay could not find it in herself to condemn her parent for having similar motives.

And Magdelene was no more capable of finding a way out of the mess now than she’d been a year ago, which put Kay right back in the same predicament she’d been in last summer: she had a mother and sister to provide for and very few options for how to do it.

Still, all was not lost, not yet anyway. First, she had to see Wilson, talk with him, try to explain what had happened.

But on the heels of that thought came the inevitable question, the one that made going to Wilson not only exceedingly difficult but probably futile as well. Yes, Devlin had behaved abominably. Yes, he had defied all rules of decorum and kissed her. But what had she done?

Had she wrenched free? Had she shouted for help? Had she even expressed the proper maidenly outrage and given him the resounding slap across the face he’d deserved?

No. Sadly, she’d done none of those things. She hadn’t done a thing to ward off his advances, nor had she expressed a shred of outrage about them. She had, in point of fact, done the exact opposite. She’d kissed him back.

Suddenly, memories of that kiss overwhelmed her—the feel of his arms around her, of his hard, strong body pressed so intimately against hers, the taste of his mouth, the hunger of wanting him, and the heady delight of knowing he wanted her.

She’d forgotten, she realized. She’d forgotten all that.

In the wake of his departure, in the certainty of his betrayal, she’d forgotten how his kiss had always made her feel.

Her breath quickened, and she closed her eyes, her muscles tightening, her blood heating, her body aching with need she only vaguely understood.

All of that had been pushed away, stored so deeply in her memory that she’d forgotten it was there at all.

Until that kiss on the terrace had reawakened it.

Kay jerked her eyes open and rolled over with a groan, pressing her flushed face into the pillow and covering her head with the counterpane as she recalled in hot chagrin the entire humiliating episode.

How she had slid her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with all the same heedless, willing passion she’d felt for him as a girl.

How she’d raked her hands through his hair, glorying in the taste of his mouth and the feel of his hard body pressed against hers.

Hell, she thought, grimacing as she touched her fingertips to her still-burning lips.

Even now, she felt the imprint of his kiss like a searing brand.

No, she thought, anguished, there was no denying her own culpability. She’d returned Devlin’s kiss with willing and wanton abandon, and she had relished every second of it.

Wilson, no doubt, had seen that for himself, so there was nothing to explain and no excuses to offer.

Still, despite that awful, nauseating fact, Kay knew one thing.

She flung back the counterpane, took a deep breath, and turned onto her back. She had to face her fiancé, apologize, and take her lumps. It might not work, he might not take her back, but she had to try.

After all, what other choice did she have?

For the second night in a row, Kay got almost no sleep, but upon rising the following morning, she at least felt better able to face Wilson than she had the night before.

As she dressed, she went over all the things he might say and all the responses she might offer to any questions he might ask or demands he might make, but she invented no excuses, for there were none.

She rehearsed no explanations, other than a sincere and heartfelt apology.

What would happen after that, she could not begin to fathom.

But Kay had barely journeyed downstairs before Josephine waylaid her at the door to the breakfast room and put paid to any chance Kay had of offering Wilson an apology.