“I did explain.”
“Not really.” He pulled a slip of paper out of the breast pocket of his dinner jacket. “‘Need you in London immediately stop,’” he read. “‘Your investment in Savoy may depend on it stop Take two o’clock train stop Will reserve room for you tonight stop Bring white-tie stop Much love Delia stop stop.’ That,” he added, giving her a wry look, “was not very illuminating.”
“Well, a telegram doesn’t allow for long-winded explanations. And it piqued your curiosity, didn’t it?”
“Which it was obviously designed to do,” he agreed, shoving the telegram back in his pocket. “So, how does my investment in the Savoy hinge on my presence at the opera?”
She bit her lip, giving him a look of apology. “That might have been a bit of an exaggeration on my part. But you can’t complain,” sheadded as her cousin made a sound of aggravation, “since I’m really just following your recipe for success.”
“Which is?”
“I’m sucking up to my new boss. Who,” she added, spying Simon and his sister in the doorway, “has just arrived.”
“Using me to suck up to Calderon wasn’t precisely what I had in mind,” Max muttered in her ear as they started forward together to greet the new arrivals.
“I’m doing this for his sister. She’s a lovely girl, and a duke’s condescension would be very helpful to successfully bringing her out in May. So I expect you to follow the same advice you gave me and be your most dashing, charming self.”
There was no time for more.
She halted by the doorway to greet the new arrivals, and as she did, her heart gave a strange little flutter. Simon looked every bit as handsome in his white tie and tails as he had the night before, and it took her a moment to find her tongue.
“Lord Calderon,” she managed at last, hoping she didn’t look as gauchely nervous as she felt. What on earth was wrong with her?
“Lady Stratham.” He bowed. “I hope we’re not late.”
“Not at all.”
“If we are late, it’s my fault,” Cassandra put in. “It was a mad scramble trying to find something to wear, for I didn’t bring anything suitable with me.” She brushed her hand nervously over her pale pink silk gown. “I hope this is all right.”
“You look lovely,” Delia hastened to reassure her, then she turned, gesturing to the man beside her. “Lord Calderon, I believe you already know my cousin, the Duke of Westbourne. Max, allow me to present Lord Calderon’s sister, Miss Cassandra Hayden. Miss Hayden, my cousin, the Duke of Westbourne.”
Wide-eyed, looking suitably impressed, Cassandra dipped her knees in a deep curtsy. “Duke.”
“Miss Hayden,” Max replied, playing up beautifully with his most elegant ducal bow. “A pleasure to meet you. And may I say that if you were late, one look at you and all would be forgiven at once.”
Delia feared such a lavish compliment might have been a bit over the top, but Cassandra’s face lit up like a candle, and she breathed a soft sigh of relief.
“I didn’t know you’d be here this evening, Duke,” Simon said, joining the conversation.
“I didn’t have much choice. I was pressed into service.”
Delia’s sideways kick in his ankle was ignored. “I understand,” Max went on, “you’ve been making some significant changes at the hotel?”
“I have. I’d be happy to discuss them with you, if you’re willing.”
“Of course.”
The two men exited the box to talk business, and Delia turned to the girl with a rueful smile. “I think your brother is trying to avoid me.”
“Oh, no! Why would he?”
“The obvious reason, perhaps?”
“You think he doesn’t like you?”
Delia considered, then admitted the truth with a laugh. “I don’t know what your brother’s opinion of me is, to be honest. But dislike is quite possible.”
“I doubt that.” Cassandra shook her head so adamantly that Delia was startled. “Simon never pretends. He despises hypocrisy and dishonesty. If he disliked you, he’d never have accepted your invitation for tonight.”
