Page 7 of Bad Luck Bride (Scandal at the Savoy #3)

D evlin stared at the empty doorway of the flower shop, a slew of emotions seething inside him like a caustic stew.

Surprise at seeing her, however, was not one of those emotions.

Pam’s desire for a big society wedding here in London at the height of the season had all but guaranteed that he and Kay would meet again.

All three families were part of the ton, after all, and regarded doing the season as a necessity of life.

Not that he cared much how his own family would feel. His mother had died giving birth to him, a fact for which his father had never forgiven him. And since his disastrous elopement with Kay, he hadn’t even been on speaking terms with the old man.

Devlin would have liked to heal that particular breach for Pam’s sake, but his trip to Yorkshire had not made much headway in that regard.

And if he did succeed, he was under no illusions that it would be due to his efforts.

The fact that he was allying their insignificant barony with the powerful Marquess of Walston would do far more to bring about a truce with his father than any olive branch he might hold out.

As for Devlin’s four older brothers, only two were left.

Roger and James were dead, killed in a cholera epidemic half a dozen years ago.

Stephen, the only one who’d made an effort to keep in contact with him after the debacle with Kay, was settled in Australia now.

As for Thomas, well… he was the eldest, the heir, and as he’d done all their lives, he would take his cue from their father.

The rest of Devlin’s relations would do the same.

Still, no matter which way the chips fell with his family, he and Kay would be running across each other, and probably more often in the weeks before his wedding than either of them would welcome.

He’d been prepared for that. What he hadn’t been prepared for was all the powerful emotions his first sight of her had evoked.

Absurdly, what had come first was desire, flickering to life inside his body, demonstrating that the wild, uncontrollable passion he’d had for her in his youth was a flame that, despite his best efforts to extinguish it, had never quite gone out.

Then, like paraffin tossed onto the spark of that old desire, had come anger, anger that had flared up with sudden, undeniable life.

He thought of those early days in Africa—his travels from Cape Town to the bush of East Africa, to Cairo, as he searched for an occupation, a career, a way to make good and prove to Kay’s family that stealing her hand wasn’t all he was capable of, that he was worthy of her, that he would be able to support and take care of her and make a life for her, even if that life was on another continent.

He thought of all the letters he’d written, how careful he’d been to give particulars of where she could write back, but she never had.

Even after he’d finally settled permanently in Cairo, he hadn’t given up.

No, like a fool, he’d sent more letters; he’d even sent cables, but as one year became three with still no word, his hopes had become harder and harder to prop up.

And while he’d been going through all of that, what had she been doing? Letting another man push in and take his place.

With that reminder, he once again felt the pain, the pain of her unfaithfulness, hitting him just as hard now as it had the day he’d read in an old copy of the London Times of her engagement to her cousin Giles.

In hindsight, he supposed the fact that she’d thrown him over shouldn’t have been much of a surprise.

Not only had Giles had far more money than him at the time, he’d also been heir to a title—the Raleigh title, to be precise—and a title was something Devlin was unlikely to ever possess.

He’d been tossed aside without a word, and though she and Giles had called off the engagement a few months later when the elopement rumors had begun to surface, that had been no consolation to Devlin’s betrayed and devastated heart.

Now she was engaged again. He had no reason to resent her for that, of course, but when he thought of how she’d looked moments ago, telling him of her engagement with that gleeful little smile on her face, it felt like salt poured into ripped-open wounds.

Suddenly he hated her for that, hated her for proving that even now, after all this time, even engaged to someone else, he still wasn’t completely free of her.

And if all that wasn’t enough to drive a man to the brink, there was the identity of her new fiancé.

Of all the wealthy, eligible men in the world, he thought in aggravation, she’d had to pick Wilson Rycroft?

A hard-drinking man from the wilds of America’s Midwest, richer than Devlin and Giles combined, old enough to be Kay’s father, Wilson Rycroft also happened to be, like Devlin, one of the investors in his friend Calderon’s new hotel.

Had he known of Kay’s engagement, he’d have refused his friend’s offer to be a part of this new venture, but he hadn’t known.

Had Rycroft known about him? he wondered. Either way—

“Devlin?”

Engrossed in his own thoughts, he barely heard Pamela’s voice.

Perhaps he ought to bow out of this hotel investment group?

He had plenty of investments in Northern Africa—his touring company, his hotels in Cairo and Luxor—he didn’t need anything like that here.

Backing out would be letting Simon down, but to be involved in any sort of business venture with Kay’s future husband could prove awkward, even if he was only here for the next few months.

If Simon had only told him, warned him. But then, Simon probably hadn’t known of her engagement, either—

“Devlin?”

This time, the sound of Pamela’s voice penetrated his thoughts, and he opened his eyes to find her watching him in puzzlement.

“Are you…” She paused, frowning a little. “Are you all right?”

“Of course. Shouldn’t I be?”

“Well, I’ve been talking and talking, and you’ve been standing there like a statue.”

“Sorry. I was thinking.”

“I daresay,” she countered, pouting a little. “It must be a matter of great importance, since you haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”

“It’s a matter of business.” He hesitated, wondering what to tell her, knowing he could be walking onto rather thin ice. “About that new hotel venture I’m involved in.”

“The one here in London with your friend Lord Calderon and the Duke of Westbourne?”

“Yes.” He wavered, then added, “We decided to expand the venture beyond one hotel, and to raise funds for that, we put shares in the corporation on public offer just two days ago. Wilson Rycroft is one of those who bought in. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, of course, but now…

” He paused again, studying Pam’s face, not sure from her placid expression what she was thinking.

“Now that I know Rycroft is engaged to Lady Kay, I’m wondering if I should bow out? ”

“Bow out?” Pamela’s smooth forehead crinkled a bit as if in puzzlement. “But why on earth should you do that?”

“Well… given all that gossip years ago,” he began, but to his amazement, Pamela laughed.

“You mean because you and Lady Kay once scandalized society by trying to elope?”

He blinked at her matter-of-fact tone. “I told everyone that it never happened.”

“Of course you did. Quite right of you.”

“But you don’t believe my declaration was the truth?”

Pamela gave him a look of pity. “Dearest Devlin, no one believes it.”

That, he appreciated with a grimace, was probably true.

“Perhaps that’s all the more reason to bow out.

The first hotel is set to open in a few weeks, and Simon wants a big, grand ribbon-cutting for it with everyone in society stopping by.

I’m expected to be there, and I’d like my fiancée there by my side.

No doubt,” he added, studying her face, watching for any signs of feminine jealousy, “Rycroft will be thinking the same.”

Not a flicker of concern disturbed her perfect countenance. “Of course. And…?”

“There are sure to be other events, too, while we’re here in London—dinners, parties, and the like—and there’s the season, too, of course. We’re bound to see the two of them. It could be awkward. I should hate for you to be uncomfortable in any way.”

“But why should I be?” Pamela seemed genuinely bewildered. “That whole business between you and her was ages ago. Why, I was only a child. It’s silly to be bothered by things like that. And it certainly shouldn’t have any impact on our plans or your business arrangements.”

“An admirable attitude.”

The dryness of his voice seemed to penetrate Pam’s complacency, and her eyes widened as if in surprise. “Did you think I’d be jealous? Of her?”

“I suppose I did, rather,” he confessed, bemused.

“My darling.” She smiled, the confident smile of a girl who knew her own appeal, a smile tinged—perhaps—with just a hint of conceit. “Lady Kay is no threat to me.”

He looked into her face, the face of a woman who was barely twenty and beautiful enough to stop traffic, who was able to bring dozens of men running with a snap of her fingertips, and he supposed it was understandable that she wouldn’t regard a woman who was older than she, who had been deemed a spinster, as a threat, even if her fiancé and that woman had a past. As she’d said, it was a long time ago.

“I see,” he said slowly, not sure what else to say. “Then there’s no reason for me to bow out of this thing?”

“None at all. Now, then,” she added and patted his lapel, “you’d best pick a flower, and let’s be going. If we’re late, Mama will squawk like an irritated hen. She hates when people are unpunctual.”

“Right.” Still bemused by her utter lack of jealousy, and a bit humbled, too, if he was being honest, but also heartily glad to leave the subject of his first love behind, he turned and pulled a bachelor’s button from the bucket of flowers beside him. “What about this one?”