Page 64 of Bad Luck Bride

Kay laughed at that, but it was a laugh tinged with a hint of both relief that facing Wilson had been postponed and dismay that perhaps the reason for his departure was that no apology would matter. She had no chance, however, to reply to her sister’s question.

“So, you see?” Jo went on. “Something must have happened last night, or very early this morning. Cassie and I are wondering if Wilson and Sharpe had a set-to about you.”

Kay made what she hoped was a convincing scoffing sound.“Me? How ridiculous. You and Cassandra have clearly been reading too many romantic novels.”

“Well, it would explain why Wilson left the party and why Pam is angry with Sharpe. But Calderon told Cassie he didn’t know anything about any of it, and if you don’t know anything, either, then I don’t suppose we’ll ever know the truth. Unless you were to ask Wilson about it…”

Jo paused, casting a prompting sideways glance at her, but Kay refused to take the bait.

“I wouldn’t dream of doing any such thing,” she said and rose to her feet. “Now, if you’ve finished regaling me with the latest gossip, I shall go in to breakfast.”

“You are just no fun,” Josephine accused with an exasperated sigh as Kay started back toward the house.

“You have no idea,” Kay murmured under her breath, fearing that many things may have been spoiled last night. She could only cross her fingers and pray that her upcoming wedding wasn’t about to be one of them.

If Kay had hoped to make her apologies to Wilson upon her return to town and perhaps effect a reconciliation, those hopes were dashed almost at once. Upon inquiring at the front desk of the Savoy, she was told that Mr. Rycroft and his secretary had departed from the hotel, leaving no forwarding address. Making matters worse, he had left her no note, leaving her decidedly in limbo less than a month before the wedding.

The only thing to do, she knew, was to carry on. The weddinginvitations had already been sent out, and she couldn’t write to all those people and tell them the wedding had been canceled, since she wouldn’t know that until she and Wilson had settled things. So she visited Lucile for the final fitting of her dress, approved the flower arrangements she and the Savoy florist had discussed two months ago, confirmed the arrangements with St. Paul’s for the ceremony, and discussed the wedding banquet menu with the Duke of Westbourne’s London chef. But by the time a week had passed, any hope there might still be a wedding had faded away, for Wilson seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth.

To discover anything at all regarding his whereabouts, Kay was reduced to reading the gossip columns. But though Delilah Dawlish and various other so-called journalists reported that Lady Pamela Stirling and her parents had unexpectedly returned to their estates in Durham, while her fiancé remained in town, none of them conveyed even the tiniest hint about Wilson’s whereabouts. It was a full ten days after the house party before Kay discovered what her fiancé had been up to.

“Oh, my God!”

Dumbfounded, she stared at the front page ofTalk of the Town, and the ghastly headline spread across the top.

This can’t be true, she thought, going numb with shock as she read the headline again.This just can’t be true.

“What is it?” Josephine asked, looking up from her breakfast tray.

Kay didn’t bother to reply. Instead, she shoved aside her chair and stood up. “Where’s Foster? Is she in with Mama?”

“I don’t think so, no,” Jo replied as Kay turned away, stopping her in her tracks. “Before you got up, she said she was taking some letters down to post. She’ll be back any minute, I imagine. Why?”

Kay handed her the newspaper, then turned away and started for her own room, adding over her shoulder, “You’ll have to help me dress. Come on, there’s no time to lose.”

Without waiting for a reply, she crossed the sitting room and entered their bedroom, Josephine on her heels with the paper in her hands.

“This can’t be right,” Jo said, looking up as she came to a halt inside their room. “That woman’s made a mistake, surely.”

Kay was too preoccupied with yanking clothes out of her armoire to reply.

“I mean, she gets things wrong all the time,” Jo went on, tossing the paper aside and coming to her side. “You know she does.”

Kay had the sick feeling that wasn’t going to be the case this time. This time, she feared Delilah Dawlish was very much on the spot. But she didn’t express that pessimistic thought aloud. “Just help me dress,” she implored, shoving a day dress of lilac-colored silk at her sister and shrugging out of her wrapper.

“Of course,” Jo replied, undoing the buttons of the dress as she spoke. “But where are you going? It’s terribly early still,” she added, glancing at the clock on Kay’s mantel. “Not even nine o’clock.”

Kay was saved from having to reply by a loud wail that sounded like the mourning cry of a banshee.

The sisters looked at each other. “Mama,” they said in unison.

“Delilah Dawlish isn’t the only one who’s gotten hold of this bit of news apparently,” Kay muttered, pulling her nightgown over her head. Tossing it aside, she reached for a pair of lawn knickers and stepped into them. “It’s clear the other papers have, too.”

Magdelene let out another wail, impelling Jo to ask, “Should I go and comfort her?”

“No,” Kay said and pulled a chemise over her head, thrusting her arms into the sleeves. “She doesn’t need an audience,” she went on, wrapping a corset around her ribs and doing up the hooks. “She’s fully capable of having a fit of hysterics all by herself.”

Kay was proven wrong about that less than a minute later. Jo had barely finished lacing her into her corset and started doing up the buttons of her dress when their mother came bursting into Kay’s room.

---