Page 5 of Bad Luck Bride

“Don’t call your sister Jo,” Magdelene admonished over her shoulder without so much as a backward glance. “And, Kay, I’d suggest that you not sponge off your sister’s plate,” she added, making Kay wonder—not for the first time—if her parent had eyes in the back of her head as well as the front. “Satin is so unforgiving. What will people think if the dress doesn’t fit?”

Despite this echoing of what Kay already knew, she couldn’t help a wistful sigh as she picked up a slice of melba toast. “I wish I didn’t have to care so much what people think.”

“It’s not for much longer,” Josephine said. “Only until June. Once you’re married, you can eat whatever you like and wear whatever you like and go where you like, and no one will care, not even Delilah Dawlish.”

Jo was right, of course, but as Kay took a bite of hard, dry toast, she grimaced. It was like eating sawdust. June, she decided, could not come fast enough.

“Devlin?”

At the sound of his name, Devlin Sharpe looked up from the paper he was reading to find Pamela coming toward him across the lobby of the Savoy. It had been two months since he’d seen her, and as he watched her approach, he appreciated—not for the first time—her ethereal blond beauty and the grace with which she seemed to float across the floor. She reminded him a bit of the angel one might put atop one’s Christmas tree.

But appearances could often be deceiving, and Lady Pamela Stirling was no exception. The only child of a marquess, Pam hadall the well-bred arrogance that came from high position. But Devlin didn’t mind that. Born into the same aristocratic world she inhabited, he was used to it. In addition, Pam had been raised as the center of her parents’ universe and was a bit spoiled in consequence, but Devlin didn’t mind that, either. These days, he had the blunt to give her anything she wanted, and in return, she was happy to put his wishes above even her own, a trait he found both surprising and quite gratifying. In Devlin’s entire life, no one had ever put him first, not his own family, and certainly not his previous fiancée, and he found his second fiancée’s willingness to do so a welcome change from all the people in his past experience, even if he was paying for the privilege.

Besides, angels had never held any charms for him. His father hadn’t nicknamed him the devil’s spawn for nothing. And Pam was quite a catch for a man of his position. The disgraced fifth son of a baron didn’t usually warrant the attentions, much less the hand, of a marquess’s daughter, even if said marquess was stone broke.

He wasn’t in love, but that was quite all right with him, too. Love, as he knew from bitter experience, was painful, messy, and highly overrated, and he wanted nothing to do with it ever again.

He’d admitted as much to Pam upon proposing, of course, and much to his relief, she’d accepted him anyway and expressed a similar view of love to his own. She was fond of him, she’d said, but she’d never have agreed to marry him if he hadn’t had money. Her brutal, clear-eyed honesty about herself and what she wanted from life was another thing he liked about her, and another refreshing contrast to his first fiancée.

“Are you all right?” Pamela asked, smiling a little as she paused in front of his chair.

“Of course,” he said, setting aside theTimesand rising to his feet. “Should I not be?”

“You’re staring at me as if you’ve never seen me before.”

“Well, it’s been two months since we parted in Cairo,” he reminded. “And if I am staring, can you blame me?” he added, giving a nod to the hotel guests around them who hurried to and fro across the Savoy’s elegantly appointed lobby. “Half the men here are staring at you. I’m just one amid the throng.”

“Hardly,” she said, laughing, but beneath that amused, dismissive reply was a complacence that indicated she was well aware of her own feminine appeal.

How could she not be?

With her wheat-gold hair, brown doe eyes, and stunning face, Pamela had been deemed one of the most beautiful women in London during her debut two years before, and even if society hadn’t been so fulsome in their praise, one glance in the mirror and she’d have had to be blind not to see the blessings fortune had conveyed upon her. Rather surprising that she hadn’t been snapped up by the end of her first season. But then, Devlin knew there was a rebellious streak in Pam’s nature, one he guessed had led her to reject the men her mother had deemed suitable for introductions. Pamela’s mother did not find him the least bit suitable, and that, he supposed, was part of his charm as far as Pam was concerned.

“When did you arrive from Yorkshire?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“Late last night.”

“And how is your family and the estate?”

“My brother Thomas and his family are well enough. And Stonygates is ticking along as if it’s still 1820. What about you? Lord Walston’s estates in fine form?”

“Well enough, under the circumstances. Papa was quite pleased since we’d been away nearly a year. Speaking of fathers…” She paused, giving him a hopeful look. “I note you don’t mention yours. How is he?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Devlin replied with a shrug, pretending a lightness he didn’t quite feel. “He refused to see me and departed within an hour of my arrival for his hunting lodge in Scotland. Thomas showed me round the old place.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but he will come around eventually.”

“I’m sure he will, once Thomas tells him I’m engaged to you.”

“That’s more than we can say of my mother.”

As she spoke, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tipped the corners of her mouth, confirming his suspicion that Pamela relished twisting her mother’s tail whenever possible.

“Enough about our absolutely impossible families.” Devlin eased a bit closer to her. “What’s important is that I’m finally able to see you again. Pity I arrived from Yorkshire so late last night. Had I arrived earlier, I’d have come running to pay a call on you straightaway.”

Her smile widened. “I was so glad to see your invitation to lunch on my breakfast plate this morning.”

“And I’m glad you were free to accept.” He glanced past her. “Where is your mother, by the way? Isn’t she joining us?”

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