Page 45 of Bad Luck Bride (Scandal at the Savoy #3)

He smiled grimly, noting her reaction. “You seem surprised.”

“So I am, rather,” she murmured.

He gave a harsh laugh. “And here I thought my feelings were painfully obvious.”

“It’s been clear from the start you wanted me,” she said.

“But that you loved me?” She shook her head, still not quite able to believe it.

“That never occurred to me, to be honest. You never declared it, and…” She hesitated, then added, “To me, your regard always seemed more like a need for possession than love.”

He frowned, uncomprehending. “I don’t see that there’s much difference.”

“No,” she said gently. “I know you don’t.”

He stood up, not waiting for her to do so first. “I guess there’s no more to say, then. I just didn’t want us to part on angry terms.”

A strange remark given his actions, but one that reflected a similar view to her own. She wondered, though, if his motive was not to make peace with her but was instead a belated attempt to salvage his connection to the Duke of Westbourne, for his daughter’s sake.

She didn’t express that rather cynical assumption aloud, however. Instead, she merely rose and walked him to the door. Opening it, she waited for him to walk through to the corridor. Then, when he turned, she held out her hand. “Good luck to you, Wilson.”

He stared at her hand for a moment, then took it in his. Giving it a hard shake, he let it go. “And you, Kay,” he said. “I hope you get what you want out of all this.”

With that, he bowed and left her. “So do I, Wilson,” she murmured under her breath as she watched him walk away down the corridor. “If only I knew what that was.”

She closed the door and leaned back against it, her own words echoing to her in the sudden silence, bringing the obvious question.

Just what did she want?

She stared at the flowers all around her. What Mama wanted was obvious. Devlin offering her marriage was, from Magdelene’s perspective, the perfect solution, but Kay no longer cared much what her mother wanted.

Josephine, of course, would reap the same benefits if Kay married Devlin that she would have if Kay had married Wilson.

And yet even her beloved Jo wasn’t enough to make Kay willing to make another attempt at marrying for security.

She’d done it with Giles, she’d done it with Wilson, but she would not do it again.

Fear and desperation had led her down that path, but though her situation was as dire as ever, she was suddenly no longer afraid.

She didn’t know what would happen, or how she would provide for her mother and sister, but whatever the future might be, she would meet it with whatever courage she could muster.

And now that the shock of her third broken engagement had worn off, she realized why she had turned Devlin down.

It was time for her to stand on her own two feet, to find a way forward that didn’t depend on a man or his money, that didn’t require the goodwill of people who were not her friends.

She didn’t know what that way forward was, but allowing Devlin to swoop in and save her was not it.

All well and good, but what, she wondered, was that way forward?

As she asked herself that question, Wilson’s contemptuous words rattled through her head.

What is it with you Brits?

Kay jerked, straightening away from the door as the answer came, an answer as obvious as the proverbial elephant in the drawing room.

She walked to her writing desk, shoved aside the latest pile of bills, and reached for pen and paper. She scribbled a note for her mother and Jo, then put on her hat, grabbed her cloak and her handbag, and went down to secure a cab. She needed to go to the West End.

The Mayfair Hotel, if Kay remembered rightly, had never been much of a hotel.

Despite its prime location, nestled in the valuable wedge of real estate between Park Lane and Devonshire House, it had long been regarded as a second-rate hotel, only in demand during the London season, when any decent room in town was hard to come by.

It had been, she remembered, a rather seedy-looking place, with sooty limestone walls and shutters in need of paint.

But now, looking at it as she stepped out of the hansom cab, Kay was impressed.

As the manager, Delia had done some marvelous things to the place.

The soot had been washed away, revealing the mellow, golden stone beneath, the shutters had been painted creamy white, and boxes of ivy and red geraniums adorned the windows.

A liveried doorman held the plate-glass door open for her, and Kay walked through it, crossing the inlaid floor of black-and-white marble to an oak desk with a wall of cubbyholes for letters behind it. A clerk looked up as she approached.

“May I help you?” he asked.

“I was hoping to call on Lady Stratham,” Kay said. “Is she in, by chance?” she asked.

“I will find out. Who is calling, please?”

“Lady Kay Matheson.” She handed over her card, and the clerk bustled away. Returning moments later, he beckoned her to follow him. “This way, my lady.”

He led her down a well-lit, carpeted corridor to an office at the very end.

It seemed to be an antechamber of sorts, where packing crates and filing cabinets lined the walls and the contents of some were scattered heedlessly across the floor.

Picking her way carefully through the chaos, she followed the clerk to a closed door at the other end of the room.

He opened the door, announced her name, and stood aside.

Delia looked up from her place behind a massive desk, its mahogany top barely visible beneath stacks of manila files and piles of correspondence. “Kay, darling!” she cried, beckoning her forward. “Come in, come in.”

Kay accepted the invitation, stepping carefully around two more packing crates by the door, but she was only three feet into the room when she noticed a man rising from the chair opposite Delia’s desk, and as he turned toward her, Kay froze in her tracks.

It was Devlin.

“You?” She sighed. “I knew I should have telephoned first.”

“Lady Kay.” He bowed, smiling a little. “I’m delighted to see you, too.”

“Now, now, children,” Delia chided. “Don’t start squabbling, or you’ll make me cross.”

She once again waved Kay to come all the way in, but Kay hung back. “I don’t want to interrupt,” she said, her mind reaching for ways to make a graceful exit. “I’ll do some shopping and come back later.”

“No, no,” Delia said, circumventing an easy escape. “We were just conducting some hotel business, and I think we’re nearly finished. Aren’t we, Devlin?”

“I believe so,” he replied. “I’ll be on my way, then, and you ladies can have your visit. Before I go, Delia,” he added, “let me say how much I appreciate your help with this… project.”

“I’ll do what I can, of course,” she replied, “but as I told you before, I’m not sure how much help I’ll be. It will be up to you to make the most of any opportunities that may arise.”

“I understand.”

“I wish you the best of luck, Devlin. You’ll need it.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.” He bowed to both of them, tipped his hat, and departed.

“Devlin?” Kay echoed, once she had determined he was safely gone. “Delia and Devlin? When did you and that man start using Christian names?” she asked, a bit nettled by this intimacy between her friend and the man who kept turning her life upside down.

Much to Kay’s chagrin, Delia merely laughed.

“We’ve been working together a great deal lately.

Simon wants to expand the Mayfair Hotel conglomerate, and lots of work will be required in the weeks ahead.

I’m in desperate need of help and advice, and Devlin has very kindly offered to extend his London visit and provide some of both. ”

Kay sniffed. “From what he said, I got the impression he was in need of your help, not the other way around.”

“Well, this sort of thing works both ways in business.” She gestured to the chair Devlin had vacated. “Do sit down and tell me what’s brought you to my side of town. Did you come to have a look at the place?”

“I’d love a look around, of course, but I came for a different reason.

One I hope you don’t think is cheek. You see…

” She paused and took a deep breath. “I’m rather at loose ends these days, as you know.

And I’ve plenty of time on my hands. Josephine is fully immersed in the season, and my mother is driving me mad. ”

“I’m happy to get you out and about,” Delia said at once. “The fuss about your broken engagement will die down soon enough, I daresay, and you’ll be able to move in society again without enduring anyone’s—”

“That’s not it,” she interrupted, cutting to the heart of her purpose, just in case Delia was about to make an offer to be her matchmaker and find her a wealthy man to marry her and solve all her problems. “I’m here because I want your advice. And perhaps your help.”

“I’m happy to help you in any way I can, of course, but as for advice—” Delia broke off and laughed. “I’ve made a mess of my own life so often in the past, I’m not sure I’m qualified to give anyone advice.”

“In this case you are. You see…” Kay paused and met her friend’s gaze steadily, pride lifting her chin a little. “You already know my financial situation. And now that I’m no longer engaged to an American millionaire…”

“You can’t borrow against your expectations,” Delia finished when she paused again.

“Exactly. And we soon won’t have anywhere to live. The Savoy has already asked me when we plan to vacate our rooms, and I’m sure a bill for what we already owe will be coming any day.”

“If money’s what you need, Kay, of course I’m happy to loan you—”

“No, please.” She held up her hand to stop the offer. “That is so kind of you, and I adore you for it, but I didn’t come to ask you for a loan. As I said, I’m here for advice. I’m wondering if you can tell me how I might embark on a career.”

“A career?” Delia stared at her. “I do believe,” she said after a long moment of silence, “that you’re serious.”