Delia, of course, perceived their mutual dismay. “Heavens, my darlings,” she cried, laughing a little, “no need to look so horrified. I was only joking! But I’d best see the maître d’hôtel anyway, just to be sure. In the meantime,” she added with mock severity as she turned away, “do try not to kill each other. And, Kay, if you want to know how you got Max’s ballroom, why don’t you just ask the man who arranged it?”
Watching as Delia started for the door, Kay felt an absurd jolt of panic at the idea of being left alone with this cretin. “I’d prefer to come with you, Dee,” she said hastily and started to follow, but Devlin’s amused voice stopped her before she’d taken two steps.
“Running away? But I thought you wanted to know about the duke’s ballroom? Of course,” he went on when she didn’t reply, “if you’d rather scurry off like a frightened rabbit…”
The idea that he thought her afraid of him was too much to bear. Kay stopped and whirled around, shoving down the silly panic of a moment before. “I’m not the least bit afraid of you,” she said coldly. “I merely detest the sight of you. There’s a difference.”
“Kay, Kay,” he said, shaking his head, his eyes crinkling with amusement at her expense, “is that any way to talk to your fiancé’s business partner?”
She made a sound of derision through her teeth. “I can’t think how you managed the blunt for such an investment. Lady Pamela’s dowry, I suppose?”
If she thought her words would sting, she was disappointed, for Devlin grinned. “Careful,” he warned. “I may have done you a favorby arranging for you to have the duke’s ballroom, but I can also un-arrange it.”
“It was hardly a favor,” she countered tartly. “Since you’re only replacing what you stole in the first place.”
“As I told you this afternoon, I didn’t steal it.”
She gave a skeptical sniff, but there was no point in arguing about it. Best to just ask him about the duke’s house, thereby proving she was no timid rabbit where he was concerned, and then get the hell away from him before he could bait her any further. “Either way,” she said, “how did you persuade the duke to get his tenants out of the Park Lane house? Especially in the space of one afternoon. And,” she added, unable to resist asking the even more puzzling question, “why did you do it?”
“Oh, well, as to the how, that was absurdly simple.” He paused, taking a sip of wine. “After you departed my suite this afternoon in a whirlwind of righteous indignation, I telephoned Westbourne and presented a possible solution to your little problem, whereupon we then made use of both telephone and telegraph. Within an hour, we’d arranged for the Robinsons—that’s the American family leasing the duke’s house—to be invited to a country-house party put on by Lord Linville, the duke’s neighbor in Gloucestershire, the weekend of June seventh.”
“Does Linville know the Robinsons?”
Devlin’s smile widened. “Not yet. But he will meet them this weekend when he goes up to the duke’s estate for a spot of fishing. Robinson, the duke tells me, is an avid fisherman.”
Kay frowned, still confused. “But why would Linville invite people he doesn’t even know to his house party? And why would theRobinsons accept such an invitation to the country in the midst of the season?”
“Lord Linville, as you may know, is a marquess with two unmarried sons and a mortgaged estate. Robinson is new money, obscenely so, and he has four very pretty, very eligible daughters. A marriage between their families means no mortgage for Linville and at least one of Robinson’s daughters off his hands and married to a future marquess. Both of them jumped at the chance. As for you, you get use of Westbourne’s ballroom, his kitchens, his French chef, and a few of his servants for your wedding banquet. Winning all round for everyone, wouldn’t you say?”
Kay didn’t know quite what to reply. “And the duke did this just because you asked him to, even after… after everything that happened?”
“We’re in business together now. It’s in his best interests and mine if we can rub along. As I said, it was simple to arrange. The simplicity, however, doesn’t really negate your obligation, does it?”
Dissembling, she decided, was her best option. “Oh?” she said, pretending bewilderment. “What obligation would that be?”
“Oh, Kay, don’t be coy.” He paused, tilting his head to one side, looking so infuriatingly pleased with himself that she felt again the almost irresistible temptation to slap him. “I salvaged your grand wedding affair. I think that pretty much puts you in my debt, doesn’t it?”
“Debt?” she echoed with lively scorn. “Of all the arrogant, conceited, idiotic—”
“Careful,” he cut in, his eyes on her face, his grin widening. “We’re being watched.”
She glanced toward the doorway, dismayed to see that he wasright. Several people were observing them through the opening, heads together, whispering.
She looked at him again and offered her prettiest smile in return. “As I already pointed out, it’s not a favor to give back what you stole.”
“Indeed? So, since I stole it from you, what possible reason could I have for trying to make it up to you now?”
“Heaven only knows why you do the things you do. Probably just to give yourself the chance to crow.”
“That must be it,” he countered with a shrug and took a sip of his drink.
She frowned, the light tone of his voice giving her sudden pangs of doubt about her theory, despite the fact that crowing was exactly what he’d been doing for the last five minutes. “Why, then? I can’t believe it’s pangs of conscience.”
He made a scoffing sound. “Hardly that, since I have nothing to feel guilty about.”
“As I said this afternoon, you’re such a hero.”
His smile didn’t falter, but his eyes flashed, a glimmer of anger and something more, something she couldn’t quite identify, something that, if she didn’t know better, might have been hurt. It vanished, however, before she could be sure, and when he spoke, his voice had resumed its light, airy tone.