Page 20 of Lady Scandal

“Heavens! What’s the occasion?”

Her friend drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m getting married.”

“Kay!” she cried, wrapping her friend in a hug. “Now I know why you’re glowing. What delightful news.”

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?”

There was an odd, wistful note in her voice, and Delia pulled back to look into her face. “Isn’t it?”

“Of course it is!” Kay said at once. “It’s just that it’s all so overwhelming. And so unexpected at my age.”

“Nonsense! You’re only a year younger than I am.”

Kay made a rueful face, her pert, freckled nose wrinkling up. “But a fetching widow of thirty-three has a bit more appeal to the average male than a disgraced spinster of thirty-two.”

The fact that darling Kay was a spinster of thirty-two could be laid directly at the feet of Devlin Sharpe. Even after all this time, Delia still felt outrage on her friend’s behalf. She didn’t express her feelings aloud, however, for there was no point in rehashing the past, not when Kay seemed close to happiness at last. Before she could think of a reply to her friend’s self-disparaging view of her situation, Kay spoke again.

“Either way, Dee, you’re right to say it is delightful news. You’ll help plan the wedding banquet, won’t you?”

“You know I will. But first you must tell me, who is he?”

“Wilson Rycroft.”

“Rycroft?” She blinked, startled. “The American millionaire?”

“The very same.” Kay gave a short laugh. “You seem surprised. Not that I blame you. The family could hardly be expected to view a man from the wilds of America’s Middle West as much of an improvement over a penniless fortune hunter.”

Delia bit her lip, appreciating the pain her friend had endured.“That’s not how I feel, darling. If you’re happy, I’m happy. It’s just that I know your family’s approval has always meant so much to you.”

“Dearest Dee,” Kay said with warm affection. “There’s no need to worry about my family. After all, things have changed a great deal since Papa died.”

Delia nodded with understanding, well aware that Kay’s father had been, to put it kindly, a domestic tyrant, obsessed with controlling anyone and everyone within his power. “It’s good to know they accept your choice of husband this time.”

“As I said, everyone is relieved, especially my mother.”

“And you?” Delia asked gently. “Are you relieved?”

“How could I not be? Wilson is as unlike Devlin as a man can be.”

Delia couldn’t help being glad about that. She’d never met the American millionaire, but it was reassuring to know that he was not as dangerous to her friend’s heart, soul, and reputation as Devlin Sharpe had been.

“Well, that’s all right then,” Delia said. “It’s nearly time for dinner. Are you free? We can go over to the Criterion and discuss all your wedding plans over some lovely food and obscenely expensive champagne.”

“The Criterion?” Kay laughed, the shadow passing from her face. “Don’t you want to eat here?”

“Heavens, no. I eat here every day. I’m dying to dine somewhere else for a change. But if you tell Escoffier I said so, I’ll denounce you as a liar. Shall we?”

Delia gestured to the door, but before they could depart, another visitor arrived, one whose hard breathing told her he must have run the full length of the corridor.

“Michel?” Delia stared at him, noting the gleam of excitement in his eyes. “What on earth?”

“You’ll never believe what’s happening,” the florist gasped, pressinga hand to his narrow chest and sucking in air as he glanced at the closed door into Calderon’s office. “Ross anywhere about?”

“No, he’s on an errand,” Delia replied, growing more surprised by this mention of Calderon’s secretary. “What is going on that has you looking so excited?”

“Darling, it’s just too delicious.” Michel stepped inside Delia’s office and closed the door behind him. “Calderon’s in the lobby being shredded into spills by the Duchess of Moreland as we speak.”

“No!” Delia gave a laugh, hardly daring to believe such delightful news. “Not really?”

---