Page 54 of Bad Luck Bride (Scandal at the Savoy #3)

K ay closed her eyes as Devlin’s footsteps faded away, her head in a whirl, her body still pulsing with all the strange, glorious sensations he had evoked with his touch.

She wasn’t completely na?ve about these things, but she hadn’t known—hadn’t ever dreamed—it could feel like this.

In all the frantic kisses of their youth, never once had they gone this far.

She opened her eyes, and as she stared at the wall opposite, she knew that for the rest of her life, she would remember that peeling, stained, absolutely beautiful gardenia wallpaper.

Down below, she heard a door open and close, reminding her that they had to go back, back to reality where she had to be proper and decorous and careful. How tiresome.

Kay straightened away from the wall, tidied her skirt and hat, and retrieved her clipboard and handbag from the floor, but even as she did these things, she still felt as if she were in a dream.

As the carriage took them back to the West End, neither of them spoke. Kay was still too overwhelmed by what had happened between them, and she felt a bit shy in consequence. In addition, Devlin stared out the carriage window for most of the journey, causing her shyness to give way to uncertainty.

There were things she badly wanted to ask him, but his demeanor didn’t invite questions, and it wasn’t until the carriage was nearly at the hotel that she found her nerve.

“Devlin? Are you all right?”

He still didn’t look at her, but to her surprise, he gave a chuckle. “No,” he said. “For that, I fear a dunk in a very cold bath will be required.”

Given the fiery episode of half an hour before, she had at least some idea of what he meant. “Oh,” she murmured, her face heating.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Me? I feel…” She paused and sighed. “I feel wonderful, actually.”

“I’m glad.”

Encouraged, she took a deep breath. “Why… why did you stop?”

He turned toward her, but he didn’t quite look at her.

Instead, he bent his head, staring at his hat in his lap.

“You deserve a proper courtship,” he said simply.

“And that means our first time ought to be after we’re married.

Not against a wall in an abandoned hotel.

” Suddenly, he smiled a little. “Besides, I didn’t want all the other times I actually did the honorable thing and stopped in time to have been wasted sacrifices. ”

That made her laugh.

The carriage turned into the alley, and he lifted his head, looking at her at last, a direct, steady gaze that brought her amusement to an abrupt end and made her catch her breath. “I love you, you know.”

The carriage stopped, and the driver hopped down from the box and opened the door before she could reply. They exited the vehicle, Kay’s mind still reeling.

He loved her still? After all this time? After everything that had happened? She stared at him, stunned, and she had no idea what to reply.

The accepted mode, of course, was to say she loved him, too, but was it love?

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to expect an answer, for he was already walking to the hotel’s back door.

She stared after him, unable to define what she felt right now.

Glorious, alive, happy, still reeling from the incredible sensations he’d evoked in her, sensations she’d never even dreamed existed.

Was that love, or was it infatuation and the euphoria of sated desire?

Or worse, was it really just a desperate, grasping effort to recapture what they’d had and lost so long ago?

She didn’t want to declare love unless she was sure, and she wasn’t sure.

She knew she was painfully vulnerable where he was concerned, that he could still make her head swim and take her breath away, and make her mad as a hornet. Was that love?

He paused by the door, opened it, and turned. “Are you coming?”

Dismayed that she was standing there like a lovestruck adolescent, she moved to follow, passing through the door he held open for her, trying to pretend a nonchalance completely at odds with her topsy-turvy emotions.

Still, despite her inability to define how she felt about Devlin, she knew she didn’t want this wonderful day to end, not quite yet.

When they paused by her office door, she seized on an excuse and gestured to the corridor behind him.

“I thought I’d fetch my letters,” she said.

“The afternoon post is here by now, I expect.” She paused, took a breath, and added, “Walk with me?”

His smile was her reward, and the sight of it tilted her heart sideways. “What an excellent idea.”

They traversed the corridor side by side. Neither of them spoke, but it was, somehow, a companionable silence.

At the front desk, they each found a handful of letters awaiting them. Devlin, however, also had a cable.

“Came just ten minutes ago, Mr. Sharpe,” the clerk told him, holding out the folded slip of paper.

The moment Devlin opened it, Kay knew from his grim expression that something was terribly wrong.

“Not bad news, I hope?” she murmured, her joy in the day faltering.

He looked up, meeting her gaze, and her stomach clenched with dread. The news, whatever it was, was very bad indeed.

“There’s been a fire,” he said tersely, and looked down at the slip of paper in his hand. “My hotel in Cairo.”

“Oh, dear God. How awful.” Kay covered her mouth, dismayed and heartsick. “Have they put it out? Was anyone killed?”

“I don’t know if there’s any dead. But the fire doesn’t seem contained, since my secretary says other buildings are in danger as well. He advises me to return immediately.”

“Oh, Devlin, I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t reply. “The Calais-Méditerranée is probably the fastest way,” he murmured as if thinking out loud. “Six days… maybe eight.”

He looked at her again. “I’ve got to go to Cook’s at once and see what can be arranged. And I have to see Simon, let him know what’s happened.”

“Of course. You’ll let me know, once you…” She paused, her voice wobbling as it finally penetrated her shocked senses that he was leaving, and her heart sank.

He seemed to sense it. “I’m sorry.”

Kay took a breath, reminding herself that this was not the time for him to be thinking about her feelings.

He didn’t need that burden after this devastating news.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Devlin.

You’ll…” She paused and swallowed hard. “You’ll let me know once you know your travel plans? ”

“Of course. It will probably take a couple of hours. I’ll call on you the minute I return.”

“I’ll wait in my rooms,” she began, then remembered.

“Blast it, I can’t. I won’t be here. I’ve got the Farthingtons’ dinner party tonight, and I promised Jo I’d be there.

She’s sweet on Lord Farthington’s son, I think, and she wants me to meet him.

It would be a good match for her. She’ll be terribly disappointed if I miss it, but—”

“Don’t miss it. We can talk tomorrow morning. The Calais-Méditerranée express doesn’t even leave from Dover until the afternoon, so we have plenty of time to…” He stopped and took a deep breath. “To say goodbye.”

Don’t make it harder for him than it needs to be , she told herself firmly. He doesn’t need that now.

“Come to my office first thing,” she said. “I’m always at my desk by nine. Now, go,” she urged when he hesitated. “You won’t be able to arrange anything standing here.”

He nodded and turned away, and as she watched him go, she felt a strange, unmistakable foreboding about his departure for Cairo.

What if he doesn’t come back?

At once, she tried to shove the question aside, but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t, because she knew, better than anyone, that nothing in life was sure.

She also knew, as she watched him walk away, that she loved him, too.

And now, just as she was figuring that out, he was leaving, walking out of her life again before she even had the chance to tell him how she felt, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

Or was there?

Kay considered the question as she watched him exit the front doors of the hotel and vanish.

She’d decided to take charge of her own life, hadn’t she?

She’d resolved to start going after what she really wanted, hadn’t she?

Well, perhaps it was time to put those fine resolutions to the test. Her mind made up, Kay turned and marched toward the lift.

Devlin returned to the Mayfair at midnight. He’d spent most of his evening sending cables to Cairo and waiting for replies, but it wasn’t until an hour ago that he had gotten any definitive news from his secretary.

Fire out but hotel and dock total loss. No one dead. Some boats may be salvageable. Insurance company notified. Need you here posthaste.

—Morse

Devlin set the cables on his dressing table, staring at the top one, both relieved and worried.

Mercifully, no one had been killed, because in June, the hotel was nearly empty.

In January, it would have been different.

Every room would have been occupied, and the death toll could have been catastrophic.

The investors would be worried, nervous. He knew he had to get home as quickly as possible and take charge. Morse was a good man, but a secretary couldn’t pacify a group of skittish businessmen. He’d have to assess the damage, meet the insurance agent, make a plan of how to rebuild…

Naked, he fell into bed, his body tired, his mind still reeling. Cook’s had made his travel arrangements by the quickest route possible. He’d be home in a week.

But what about Kay?