Page 41 of Bad Luck Bride (Scandal at the Savoy #3)

G et married?” Kay stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. “You and me? Are you out of your mind?”

For some unfathomable reason, he laughed. “On the contrary, I don’t think I’ve ever been saner.”

Much to Kay’s astonishment, he sank down on one knee. “Lady Kay Matheson, will you marry me?”

“No.” She snatched her hands away. “For God’s sake, Devlin, do get up. You’re being ridiculous,” she added when he shook his head and remained where he was.

“I’m not. I’m dead serious now, Kay. The two of us getting married makes perfect sense.”

“As much sense as flying pigs or a flock of Amazonian parrots landing atop St. Paul’s Cathedral,” she muttered. “I was hoping—foolishly, perhaps—that you’d have something reasonable to suggest.”

“Marrying me is perfectly reasonable.”

“I’ve had enough of this nonsense. I’m leaving.” She stepped around him and started toward the door, but he rose and followed her. When she tried to open the door he flattened one palm against it and pushed it shut again.

Heaving a sigh, she turned around, placed her back flush against the door, and lifted her chin, staring him down. “Detaining a woman against her will is truly beyond the pale. But from a scoundrel like you, it’s not surprising, I suppose.”

“Just hear me out, please. That’s all I ask.”

“Do I have a choice?”

He smiled, not the least bit apologetic. “Not really, no.”

At the sight of that smile, her throat went dry and her stomach gave a nervous dip.

It was the same dazzling smile he’d given her the first time he’d ever seen her at Lady Rowland’s ball, the same smile that had captured her heart, had persuaded her into meeting him for secret assignations behind her parents’ backs, had beguiled her into eloping with him to Gretna Green and running off with him to Africa, and at the sight of it now, Kay felt the exact same sensation she had felt then: a combination of overwhelming pleasure and stark terror.

How ghastly to think she was still susceptible to his charms. Hadn’t she learned her lesson by now, in heaven’s name?

She scowled. “Keeping me here by force, are you? And to think only a week or two ago you accused Wilson of being a bully. A case of the pot and the kettle if ever there was one.”

Her point, of course, sailed right past him.

“You came here asking for a solution,” he said.

“Well, I’ve offered you one. If we got married, that would resolve every problem you mentioned.

For one thing, it would take the wind out of everyone’s sails and leave them with nothing scandalous to talk about. ”

He was probably right about that, but she’d have died rather than admit it.

“In fact,” he went on in the wake of her silence, “everyone will probably deem our marriage a fitting end to this business.”

“Fitting?” she echoed, trying to sound as scornful as possible, but much to her chagrin, the word came out as an unimpressive squeak.

“Yes. Fitting. Our fiancés have betrayed us. What better solution, people will say, than for us to find consolation in each other?”

Kay pushed away any stupid girlish flutterings about his smile by taking a deep, steadying breath, reminding herself of all the ways he’d managed to make her life hell over the years.

“Given that I’d be irrevocably tied to you for the rest of my life,” she said, folding her arms, “I see no consolations here at all.”

“Ah, but there are a few,” he murmured, leaning closer, so close that his lips almost brushed hers. “If I kissed you, you’d remember some of them.”

Kissing him had never failed to get her into trouble, and for him to use those kisses as leverage to bring her to heel now was damnable. “You are as conceited as you are crazy.”

“Am I? Let’s test that theory.” His lips touched hers, and her heart gave a hard, panicked thump in her chest, but then he stopped and drew back a little. “Well? Is your memory stirring, or do you need more evidence?”

“My only memory is realizing how big a mistake I almost made fourteen years ago.” Kay unfolded her arms and pushed his outward to free herself from his embrace. Much to her relief, his arms fell to his sides, and he took a step back. “I have no intention of making it again.”

“Kay,” he said, his voice gentle. “I know I am to blame for all of this, and I want to make it right.”

“Why? To ease your conscience?” She sniffed, clearly unimpressed. “I didn’t realize you had one.”

“Well, I do. But what I really mean is that I want it for your sake. Is that so hard to believe?”

Inside, Kay began to shake, because suddenly, for reasons she did not understand, she wanted to believe him, which only proved that he could not only destroy her life, he could also destroy her sanity and make her as crazy as he was.

“You can’t make it right, Devlin,” she said. “Even if what you suggest solves everything—which I’m not conceding for a second, by the way—things will never be right. The damage is done.”

“Damage? I saved you from making a disastrous marriage.”

“And I’m supposed to be grateful for the favor?”

“No, of course not. I only meant that he wasn’t right for you—”

“That wasn’t your decision to make!”

For the first time, a shadow of what might have been guilt crossed his face. “It wasn’t what I’d call a decision,” he muttered. “At least, it wasn’t a deliberate one. I just… lost my head.”

“Well, your action makes it abundantly clear that you haven’t grown up much in the last fourteen years.

But I have, Devlin. I’m not a lovestruck girl anymore, I’m a mature woman.

Even if marrying Wilson would have been a mistake—and I do not concede that for a moment—I have no intention of making an even worse one by going off half-cocked and marrying you.

Especially not because of one passionate kiss. ”

For some unaccountable reason, that made him smile. “At least I’ve finally gotten you to admit that kiss on the terrace was passionate.”

Unable to refute that contention, she tossed her head. “That’s beside the point.”

“Is it? Just think about this for a minute, Kay. People won’t be able to accuse you of driving all your suitors away, will they? I’ll wager the deed would scarcely be done before the scandal sheets would start gushing about our happy ending and how first love is the truest love.”

She made a gagging sound, but all that accomplished was to make his smile widen into a grin, so she decided to be as brutally blunt as possible.

“Everything you say might be true. From the standpoint of sheer logic, it might make sense, and yet I remain unmoved. In fact, Devlin, after what you did, I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on God’s earth.

Rather than reward your unspeakable conduct with my hand in marriage, I’d prefer to die an old maid, alone, in an attic garret in Bermondsey. ”

“Quite a poetic end, Kay, but completely unnecessary.”

“But still my choice.”

“You’d rather face gossip, embarrassment, and humiliation than accept my proposal?”

“Yes,” she answered at once.

“You’d rather endure scandal and shame? Be stared at everywhere you go? Be whispered about and laughed at? You’d rather face poverty than marry me?”

Reminded of painful practicalities, she hesitated, but only for a second. “Yes.”

“You’d rather watch your sister’s chances diminish?”

Agonized by that prospect, she wavered, but then she reminded herself he was using Jo solely as a means of manipulation and control, and she wasn’t about to let him do it.

Wilson had tried that trick, too, and she was fed up with it.

There had to be another way out of this mess, and since Devlin didn’t have any solution to offer that she could possibly live with, she was going to find her own. Somehow.

She lifted her chin. “Yes,” she said, absurdly proud of herself for the firmness of her reply. “Now, are you finished?”

“Yes, except—”

“Good,” she cut him off and once again turned to go, but instead of stepping back and letting her leave, he remained where he was, his arms coming up on either side of her.

“Except,” he resumed, his lips brushing her ear and making her shiver, “for one thing. Just what,” he added as she pressed her forehead to the door with a muttered oath, “is your objection to my proposal?”

She whirled around, shaking her head, laughing a little in disbelief at that absurd question. “You really have to ask?”

“Yes, I do. You were ready to marry Rycroft to solve your financial problems, weren’t you?

So why not me? I’m reasonably well off nowadays—not as rich as Rycroft, granted, but I’ve got plenty of money to support you and any children we might have.

I’ll take care of your family, too. In addition to that, I’m also quite good company—”

“That’s debatable.”

“And,” he went on, ignoring her skeptical rejoinder, “I’m not half bad to look at, even if I say it myself.”

“You say it yourself because no one else will.”

He grinned, the insult rolling off him like water off a duck’s back.

“Your sarcastic sense of humor is one of the things I’ve always liked best about you, Kay.

So, please answer my question. I’ve made you an honorable proposal of marriage.

No elopements, no concealments. And you’re right to say we’re not the young fools we once were.

I’m not the boy with no prospects and you’re not underage, in need of anyone’s permission.

There are no impediments to stop us this time. ”

“Except one. We hate each other!”

“I don’t hate you, Kay. Oh, there was a time when I thought I did,” he added as she raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “But I don’t hate you. I never really did. And…” He paused, once again easing closer to her. “I don’t think you hate me, either.”

“You’re right,” she agreed, smiling sweetly. “‘Hate’ is not the right term. ‘Revulsion’ describes it so much better.”

He laughed, a low, soft sound, and his turquoise gaze lowered, staring at her mouth. “If that’s true,” he murmured, “you have an interesting way of demonstrating it.”