Page 65 of Bad Luck Bride

“Have you seen the papers?” she demanded. “Have you seen them?”

“Yes, Mama. I have.”

“Well?” her mother prompted when she said nothing more. “Did you know about this?”

“Of course I didn’t. Jo,” she added as her sister fastened the last button at the nape of her neck, “fetch my room key out of my handbag, in case I’m not back before the two of you go to luncheon with Delia.”

“But where are you going?” Magdelene asked as Jo departed on this errand.

“Out. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Please give Delia my excuses.”

“Our luncheon with her was to discuss your wedding and what preparations need to be made at Westbourne House.” Magdelene began to cry. “What reason can we possibly give her for why you aren’t there?”

“I doubt you’ll have to invent a reason. Knowing Delia, she’s probably already aware of what’s happened.”

Amazing, she thought as she pulled on her gloves, how calm she sounded when her life was falling apart all around her.

“What happens now?” Magdelene asked, her voice quavering. “They’ll boot us out of our rooms, Kay, you know they will. And then where will we live? Oh, dear, oh, dear,” she said, bursting into sobs again, “what will happen to me now?”

“Your flair for drama is only exceeded by your self-centeredness, Mama,” Kay replied, as she buttoned her gloves.

“Don’t get snippy with me, miss,” her mother cried. “What would impel Wilson to do this? What did you do to him, Kay?” she added accusingly. “Did you quarrel with him? Nag him? Lose your temper? Oh, Kay, you did, didn’t you? And less than a month before the wedding, too. How could you be so careless?”

Kay bit back the sharp retort that hovered on her lips and turned away to retrieve the newspaper from the bed where Jo had tossed it a few minutes earlier.

“I’ve warned you about your temper,” Magdelene went on, following her as she went into the sitting room. “And how much men hate that. A lady never loses her temper.”

“I didn’t lose my temper. At least, not exactly.”

“Well, you must have done something!” her mother wailed. “Otherwise this wouldn’t have happened!”

She’d done something all right, she thought grimly. She’d allowed herself to be shamelessly ravished by a blue-eyed devil. Again.

The truth, however, was more than her mother could handle, and she was in no mood to invent lies. Instead, she crossed the sitting room to where Josephine was waiting by the door with her key.

“Thank you, darling,” she said. Taking the key, she slipped it into her skirt pocket. “Look after Mama,” she added as she opened the door. “Make sure she doesn’t get carried away with her role ofhumiliated mother and hurl herself off the balcony. We are on the fourth floor, after all.”

Her mother sniffed at that. “If I did such a thing, it would be no more than you deserve after this latest disgrace. And I don’t understand where you could possibly be going.”

Kay didn’t reply because her mother was hysterical enough already. If she told Magdelene she was going to put her hot temper to good use by invading Devlin Sharpe’s hotel room and throttling him within an inch of his life, Mama would probably drop dead of apoplexy on the spot.

Instead, Kay walked out without a word and shut the door behind her.

The knocking on his door woke him, but Devlin decided it was best to ignore it. For one thing, he knew he hadn’t rung for room service. It couldn’t be his valet, for he hadn’t gotten around to hiring one. Nor could it be his now-former fiancée, who wouldn’t dream of coming to a man’s hotel room, and who wasn’t speaking to him anyway.

Upon hearing his apologies for what she had witnessed, his request that they dissolve their engagement, and his heartfelt hope she would one day meet a far better man than he, Pam had burst into tears, unleashed on him a torrent of scathing criticism he completely deserved, tossed his engagement ring in his face, and stalked off, declaring over her shoulder as she departed the garden that he’d pay for this insult to her and her family.

No, he decided as the clock in his sitting room struck nine; itcould not be Pam. In fact, the only person his befuddled brain could imagine being at his door this early in the day was Kay. Granted, Kay didn’t shy at coming to his hotel room at inconvenient moments, but if her last words to him at the house party were any indication, she was not speaking to him, either.

Not that he’d made any attempt to test that theory. He knew Kay’s temper, and he wasn’t completely sure that she wouldn’t make good on her threat to shoot him if he dared to even appear in her general vicinity. So he’d decided his best move for now was to keep his distance and give her time to cool her fire a bit before he made any attempt to talk with her.

Sadly, keeping his distance hadn’t stopped him from thinking about her and the kiss they’d shared. For over a week now, the feel of her in his arms and the glorious taste of her mouth had tormented him, invading his mind, arousing his body, and dominating his dreams. Worse, it was such a sweet torment, he hadn’t tried to stop it. Instead, he’d relished it, reliving that kiss in his imagination over and over again.

Nonetheless, after ten days of this self-torture, he’d decided some relief was required, and he’d spent most of last night sampling cocktails in the Savoy’s American Bar. After too many Manhattans, martinis, and a few oh-so-aptly named stingers, he’d come back to his room and passed out cold, only to be awakened by this annoying knocking at his door. When the knock came again, he wondered vaguely if there might be a fire. Not that he much cared, for he already felt like death. A herd of elephants seemed to be pounding through his head, his mouth felt as if it were full of cotton wool, and he feared that if he tried to get out of bed, his skull would crackwide open. If he was going to die today, it was best to do it in bed, he decided, and promptly rolled over and drifted back to sleep.

Whoever was at his door, however, proved to have no mercy whatsoever, for the knocking became a constant, relentless drumbeat, and Devlin tossed aside the pillow with the foulest oath he knew. Moving with infinite care, he got out of bed.

He started to reach for his dressing robe, but then realized hazily that he was still dressed, more or less. His shoes and socks were missing, his white tie and collar button were undone, his jacket and pocket watch were on the floor, and his waistcoat buttons were unfastened, but other than that, he was still wearing his evening clothes from last night.

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