Page 3 of Bad Luck Bride

“You’re so public-spirited, Mama. I suppose I should be grateful that you didn’t actually come right out and ask Wilson to bribe Sir Adair.”

Magdelene had the temerity to look affronted. “I would never be so crude as that.”

“Nor, I suppose, would you have to be. Wilson didn’t become one of the wealthiest men in America by being slow on the uptake. Your hints were enough, I daresay. Tell me,” she continued, almost afraid to ask, “did you and Wilson do this with all the papers, or just this one?”

“It wasn’t necessary with the others.” Magdelene set down the paper and patted it with once hand. “As I said, the other papers have already softened their stance toward you quite a bit. And I’d have expected you to be relieved thatTalk of the Townis finally saying nice things about you.”

“I am, I am,” she replied at once, holding up one hand in a showof capitulation. She might not care much for her mother’s methods, but if they had the happy result of Delilah Dawlish no longer shredding her into spills, Kay supposed she could live with it, especially given how much it would help Jo make a successful debut this season. “I know you and Wilson were both acting for my benefit, so go on.” She gestured to the paper in her mother’s hand. “Finish reading me the result of your joint efforts.”

Magdelene returned her attention to the page and continued, “‘Lady Kay, we have observed, is looking quite fashionably slim nowadays. No doubt that is what inspires her to look at white satin.’”

“A moment of madness,” Kay muttered, took a sip of her unsugared tea, and grimaced.

“It wasn’t,” Josephine assured her at once. “It will make a lovely wedding dress. You’ll be the most beautiful bride in London.”

Kay knew that was sisterly loyalty talking, but nonetheless, she felt a fierce wave of affection for her young sibling rising up inside her. “You’re a darling, but I wonder if I ought to have picked the chiffon instead? I know it’s not as fashionable as the satin, but—”

“Only the plump girls wear chiffon,” her mother cut in, “and you are most certainly not one of those. At least not anymore.”

“Thank you, Mama.”

The dryness of her reply was lost on her mother. “Besides, Wilson prefers the satin. I asked him. Don’t swear, dear,” she added as Kay muttered an oath. “He told me quite clearly that he wanted to be kept informed of all the wedding plans while he was away.”

“What?” Kay cried, tossing down her napkin, now truly exasperated by her mother’s interfering ways. “Oh, Mother, really!”

“Isn’t the dress supposed to be a surprise for the groom?” Jo asked.

Magdelene ignored them both and resumed reading. “‘We thought that Lady Kay might have caught Mr. Wilson Rycroft’s eye during his first visit to England last summer. But when he returned to America for the holidays and no engagement was announced, we could only conclude we were mistaken. But he is back in London now, and giving us cause to wonder anew if a certain red-haired spinster with a checkered past is what has pulled him back to our shores. We are certain it is no coincidence that well before the season, he and Lady Kay are both residing in the same London hotel. No engagement has been formally announced yet, but the bolts of satin at Lucile rather give the game away, don’t you—’”

Magdelene broke off as Foster placed a tray of food in front of her. “What’s this?” she asked, removing the pince-nez from her nose to study the half-empty plate with surprise and a hint of distaste.

“It’s half past ten, my lady. I thought you might wish to finish your breakfast.”

“No, no.” Magdelene, still quite slim at the age of fifty-five, waved a hand over the tray in an uninterested way that her famished eldest daughter could only envy. “I’m quite finished. And I don’t have time, in any case, if it is half past ten. I don’t want us to miss our first appointment of the day.”

“What appointment?” Kay asked as Foster took the offending tray away. “We aren’t returning to Lucile until this afternoon, I thought.”

“I’m not talking about Lucile. I scheduled a meeting for us with the Savoy florist at eleven to discuss the wedding flowers.”

“But why? We’re not having the wedding banquet here, unfortunately. Not now.”

“Who says so?”

Kay stared at her mother in surprise. “Delia said so. The only room the Savoy has that’s large enough for us is the Pinafore Room, and because of that muddle between her and Lord Calderon in January, our reservation got pushed aside for another wedding.”

“It was quite unforgivable of Calderon to pull the Pinafore out from under us for someone else! That is why, after we meet the florist, I am paying a call on Mrs. Carte to discuss the situation with her.”

“I realize Mrs. Carte is now in charge of the Savoy, but I don’t see what good talking to her will do.”

“Delia had mentioned before she left for Paris that she had another plan in the works that might allow us to still have the wedding banquet here.”

“But that was before the Savoy fired her, along with most of the other members of staff. Lord Calderon resigned, leaving Mrs. Carte in charge. And since that woman hates Delia, it’s clear any plan she had for us is out the window. And now that she’s had to go to Paris—”

Her mother interrupted with a sniff. “It was very inconsiderate of Delia to go off like that and abandon us.”

Mama was nothing if not self-absorbed. “Delia’s had her own troubles, Mama. She did get fired, after all. Still, I am sure she hasn’t abandoned us. She said she was only staying a fortnight, so she’ll be back any day. And she did give us a list of possibilities to investigate in her absence. Not that it’s done us much good,” Kay added with a sigh. “We’ve looked everywhere, but there doesn’t seem to be a single ballroom or banquet hall anywhere else for the seventh of June that’s large enough to accommodate us.”

“Just so. We have no choice but to discern if Delia’s plan—

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