At this mention of the night fifteen years earlier when Devlin had been jilted at the altar, Simon began to understand. They hadn’t known each other at the time, but from what the other man had let slip over the years, Simon knew his friend had every right to resent anyone associated with the bride’s defection. “The duke is a friend of Lady Kay, I take it?”
“Not him. But they move in the same circles, and one of his sisters was her bosom companion. Kay was staying with them the night she agreed to elope with me. The duke and his sisters are the ones who came after us. While his sisters persuaded Lady Kay to change her mind, the duke reminded me that, because I am the fifth son of a baron, I am a gentleman of birth, breeding, and absolutely no prospects, without so much as two shillings to rub together.”
“But that last bit’s not true. You’ve got heaps of money.”
“Ah, but I didn’t back then. I was only nineteen, after all, and wholly dependent upon my minuscule quarterly allowance. Lady Kay’s family, the duke informed me, felt she could do better. Lady Kay, I soon discovered, agreed with them.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know of the connection.”
“Not to worry.” Devlin flashed his characteristic mercurial smile. “As I said, I was spared from marrying the wrong girl, and it was a blessing in disguise; believe me. Especially since I’m now about to marry the right girl.”
“What?” Simon laughed. “Engaged already? You’ve only been home from Africa a week.”
“What, you don’t believe I could sweep a girl off her feet in a week? All right, all right,” he added as Simon gave him a pointed look. “I’ll own up. My intended is Lady Pamela Stirling, beloved only daughter of the stone-broke Marquess of Walston. We met in Cairo last autumn when she was on holiday with her family.”
“You must have fallen for each other straightaway.”
“Yes, well, it’s amazing how much more appealing a baron’s fifth son becomes once he’s amassed an obscenely large fortune. Lady Pamela is quite willing to tie the knot with me in order to help me spend it.”
“That’s rather a cynical way of approaching matrimony. Shouldn’t love play a part in this sort of thing?”
Devlin laughed. “Good God, Simon, you really are the golden boy so beloved in English literature. Decorated war hero with unimpeachable morals, a stout heart, and remarkably good looks. You’ve even got the right color hair. I can’t think why we’re friends.”
“You have to have at least one honorable friend. Especially now that you’ve decided to do something as honorable as matrimony.”
“A man’s got to settle down sometime. Which reminds me… the wedding is the seventh of June, and Pamela’s mother is inviting half the damn ton. Any chance we can have the wedding dinner here at the Savoy? We’ll need the largest banquet room you’ve got.”
“If it isn’t already reserved, it’s yours.” He stood up. “Let’s go to dinner. We can inquire at the front desk on our way out.”
“Out?” Devlin echoed as he rose. “I thought we were dining at the restaurant here.”
Simon shook his head. “Let’s not. I need to get clear of the Savoy and all the refinement of your damned aristocracy.”
“Don’t be spiky. It’s not my fault I was born into this ridiculousinstitution of so-called nobility. Tell you what.” He clapped Simon on the shoulder as they started out of the bar. “Let’s find an East End pub and wrap our bellies around a pair of underdone steaks, a plate of chips, and an old-fashioned plum tart.”
“As long as there’s plenty of ale to go with it all.”
Devlin laughed. “First cocktails, then pints of ale? What’s brought on this sudden uncharacteristic impulse to drink?”
“A tornado, my friend.” Simon picked up his glass and drained the remaining contents. “A black-haired, blue-eyed tornado.”
“A woman,” Devlin said at once, giving a nod of sympathetic understanding. “Best batten down the hatches then.”
An image of Lady Stratham and her provoking smile came into Simon’s mind. “I intend to,” he said as he set his now-empty glass on a table by the door. “Believe me, Devlin, I intend to.”
The following morning, Delia was in her office before eight o’clock. She wasn’t usually an early riser, but she had no intention of allowing Calderon any excuse to fire her. No, she would be the picture of a cheerful, cooperative, and industrious employee, and when she saw him, she wouldn’t crow about being right. Well, she amended as she sat down at her desk, she might crow a little.
She smiled, remembering how the duchess had torn Calderon apart the night before. He’d held his own end up all right, she had to admit—no easy feat in front of all those people. But in the end, it hadn’t mattered; for not only had the duchess departed for Claridge’s, but she had also not paid her outstanding bill. A few more incidents like that, and Calderon might be prepared to start listening to those who understood the Savoy and its clientele.
Delia’s smile faded, however, as she eyed the piles of work on herdesk. Many of the letters that had accumulated during her absence were still unopened. In addition, she had to plan a luncheon party for Lady Gray, a regimental dinner for the City of London Royal Fusiliers, and a banquet for Viscount Ridley, the British home secretary, and she could only hope none of them would walk away from the Savoy before Calderon saw sense. In addition, the invitation cards for the East India Club dinner had arrived from the printer and were now waiting to be filled in, placed in envelopes, and sent out.
That event, thankfully, was too close to be canceled, but the fact that it was only two weeks away meant the invitations were her top priority, so Delia shoved aside her unopened letters, opened her inkwell, and reached for a pen.
“You rang for tea, my lady?”
She looked up to find a waiter in the doorway. “Ah, yes, James, thank you. Come in. Goodness,” she added, eyeing the extra teacups and heaping plate of breakfast pastries on the tray as the waiter came toward her desk. “How much does Auguste think I’ll be able to eat?”
“I believe he thought you might be meeting with clients. You usually have morning tea sent to your room, my lady, not your office, and never this early unless you have a meeting.”
