Page 36 of Bad Luck Bride

“No, no, all that’s all right. But the furnishings…” She paused and shuddered. “Ghastly. And the drapes are rotting, they’re so old. Even so.” She paused again, biting her lip with an apologetic look. “They want the earth for the place, I’m afraid.”

“Anyone selling a London house in Eaton Square would want the earth for it. And in that location, the furnishings won’t matter all that much if we’re leasing it out.”

“I’m sure you’re right. It ought to bring a very high rent, don’t you think?”

“Obscenely high, I daresay.”

“So…” She paused, folded the list and put it in her pocket, then took his hands, biting her lip as she looked up at him hopefully. “Should we call on Lady Shrewsbury this afternoon and see if she’d be willing to give us a tour of the place today?”

Marriage, he reminded himself, required compromises. As she’d pointed out, a London residence would certainly be desirable later on, and in the meantime, it was a sound investment. “Why not?” he answered. “It never hurts to look. Why don’t you fetch your mother,” he added, nodding to where Lady Walston was studying a splendid flower bed of narcissus, “while I secure us a cab?”

Her radiant smile was his reward, but as he stepped onto Northumberland Avenue to hail a growler, Devlin couldn’t quite shake off his uneasiness, and he decided that if he and Pam did purchase a London house, he’d best arrange for a tenant and sign a lease straightaway, before she started asking his preferences in furniture and measuring for new drapes.

In the days that followed the opera supper, Kay saw nothing of Devlin, much to her relief. It was three weeks later, when an invitation came in the afternoon post, that Kay was reminded she could not avoid him altogether. Kay gave a sigh, staring down at the penned words of the card without enthusiasm.

The Duke of Westbourne

Requests the honor of your presence at a soiree

To celebrate the grand opening of the Mayfair Hotel

The Twenty-Third of April

Eight o’clock in the Evening

The Victoria Room

Mayfair Hotel

12 Hamilton Place, Mayfair

The Mayfair was that hotel of Devlin’s, the one that Wilson was also involved in, and Kay’s mind immediately began fashioning reasons to refuse the invitation. A conflicting engagement (which was always possible), or the illness of dear Mama (who would be happy to play at having a cold in order to avoid any event where That Horrible Man was sure to be), or perhaps womankind’s most convenient excuse and one she had used on her mother only a few weeks ago (the sudden headache).

Kay tapped the card against her palm, but as she considered which of these options would be most convincing, an image of Devlin’s face came into her mind, his insolent smile, the knowing gleam of amusement in his eyes, and she appreciated that whatever excuse she gave, none would be convincing enough to fool him.

Kay yanked her pen from its holder, telling herself it didn’t matter what Devlin thought. That reminder had barely gone through her mind before a question followed it.

What about Wilson? How would he feel if she refused to attend this affair?

She remembered quite clearly how her fiancé had hauled her forward that night at the Savoy supper, and she very much feared he would insist she attend. If she balked, whatever the reason, he could be very displeased. He might even be angry.

Kay’s gaze strayed to the stack of unpaid bills on the corner ofher desk. Angering Wilson was not something she could afford to do. Kay sighed again.

“Is something wrong?”

Kay glanced at Josephine, seated at the nearby table, frowning at her over the stack of her own letters, then she looked over her shoulder at the half-closed door into their mother’s bedroom where Magdelene was taking her usual rest after tea. “Of course not,” she answered. “Why do you ask?”

“You’ve sighed at least three times in the last fifteen seconds. What’s the trouble?”

Kay hesitated, but the faint sound of Magdelene’s snoring reassured her that her mother was sound asleep. “I have an invitation here from the Duke of Westbourne. I’ve no doubt Mama got one, too, and since the duke’s family knows you’re out, I expect you’ve got one as well.”

“Me?” Josephine instantly dropped the letter she’d been opening and began rooting through her pile of correspondence. “What sort of event is it? Oh, do say it’s a ball.”

“Sorry, no. The duchess is expecting a baby, so she and the duke are not doing the season this year, remember? He just comes down, I understand, for the Lords, or for events like this soiree. It’s for the grand opening of that new hotel of his, the Mayfair.”

Josephine’s hands stilled and her eyes widened as she looked up. “The Mayfair?” she cried, her voice rising in surprise. “Isn’t that Devlin Sharpe’s hotel, too?”

“Shush,” Kay ordered, casting another glance at Mama’s bedroom. “Keep your voice down. Mama’s sleeping.”

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