“I would,” he replied, relieved by the offer of help, though it was probably already too late for a few minutes of assistance to matter.
And his relief was short-lived, in any case, for as the footman assisted him to dress, he had little to do but stand still and hear Kay’s anguished words echo through his mind.
I was ruined… it’s taken me over a decade to rebuild my reputation.
Devlin’s conscience, pesky devil that it was, nudged him again, and he hated that even after she’d broken his heart and forsaken him for her cousin, she could still make him feel as if he were the villain.
He stirred, restless, shifting his weight, and the footman looked up from the stud he was fastening into the bib of Devlin’s shirt. “Sir?”
“It’s nothing,” he assured the fellow. “Carry on.”
The stud snapped into place, but even as the footman helped Devlin into his waistcoat, knotted his white tie, and assisted him in sliding his arms into the sleeves of his evening coat, Kay’s words still pounded his conscience like a drumbeat.
Mud slung at me, doors slammed in my face, me having to bow and scrape to anyone in society who’ll give me half a chance…
“Your hat, sir.”
Relieved by the distraction, Devlin came out of his reverie and accepted his top hat. “Thank you…”
He let his voice fade, giving the footman an inquiring look.
“Myers, sir,” the young man supplied.
“Thank you, Myers. Will you be able to assist me when I return? It’ll be late, well after midnight.”
“That’s all right, sir,” the servant replied, slinging Devlin’s evening cloak over his shoulders. “I’m here until nearly dawn anyway. Just ring downstairs and ask for me.”
After handing over another tip, Devlin followed the footman out the door. Along with half a dozen other guests, he took the lift down to the ground floor, but even the lively conversation that swirled all around him as they descended to the lobby was not enough to drown out Kay.
Even after all this time, though not a whisper of scandal has touched my name in over a decade, there are those who still see me as damaged goods, who ridicule me behind my back, or pity me, or look down their noses at me.
The lift came to a stop with a little jerk, and he stepped out into the lobby with the others. Rather like salmon in a river, they streamed toward the doors, Kay’s voice overriding talk of the theater and the opera that swirled and eddied around him.
The only way I will ever be able to lay this sordid episode to rest for good is to have my wedding be the event of the season…
The doorman held back the plate-glass door, and Devlin stepped out into the cold, damp spring night.
But that plan is curtailed now, thanks to you…
“Damn,” he muttered, stopping in his tracks, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “Damn, damn, damn.”
Ignoring the curious stare of the doorman, Devlin turned around and recrossed the lobby, noting grimly how late he was with a glance at his pocket watch as he made his way to the front desk.
“May I help you, Mr. Sharpe?” the clerk asked.
Devlin shoved his watch back into his waistcoat pocket and looked up with a resigned sigh, wondering how late he was going to be due to the inconvenient pangs of his conscience and if that would put him irretrievably beyond the pale with his future mother-in-law. “Where can I find a telephone?”
5
When Kay left Devlin’s hotel room, she was even more stirred up than she had been when she’d arrived, and her anger, frustration, worry, and pain did not abate once she reached her own suite. It was a powerful combination of emotions she found hard to conceal from her mother and sister when they returned from Lucile, a combination that, sadly, Wilson’s perceptive eyes cottoned onto the moment he saw her coming toward him across the Savoy lobby that evening.
“What’s the matter?” he asked in his usual blunt American style once preliminary greetings had been exchanged. “What’s wrong?”
“Not a thing,” she lied. “I had a bit of a headache earlier, but it’s gone.”
“Dear Wilson,” her mother said, pausing beside her, Josephine behind them. “So lovely to see you again. And you needn’t worry about Kay. She’s right as rain now.”
Wilson ignored her mother. Instead, his steely eyes beneath silvery-gray brows searched Kay’s face. His features, craggy rather than handsome, seemed harsher than usual, whether due to his painstaking scrutiny of her at this moment or due to the fact thathe had just endured a long transatlantic journey, she couldn’t have said. “Just a headache?” he said, his voice sharp. “That’s all?”
