“Either way, my motives don’t really matter, do they? Your problem is now solved, and all’s well that ends well. You and your American millionaire can host the swankiest wedding banquet since Queen Victoria, and he can keep you in the style to which you’ve always been accustomed, something I certainly couldn’t have provided you at the time. Your father would be so proud.”
She felt compelled to defend her parent. “My father loved me. He did,” she insisted as Devlin raised an eyebrow. “He always had my best interests at heart.”
“A husband with money being your father’s definition of what’s in your best interests?”
“His refusal of your suit wasn’t only due to your lack of money! I deserved a proper courtship, not an elopement in the dead of night. Had you stayed and made your case patiently, he would have eventually allowed you to court me in honorable fashion and prove yourself worthy of me. And he’d have given his blessing in the end.”
“You know,” he said slowly, “there was a time when I badly wanted to believe that.”
She lifted her chin, giving him the haughtiest look she could manage. “Whether you believe it or not,” she said with dignity, “it’s the truth.”
“We decided to elope, if you recall, because we knew he would not give his permission. But he was happy to give it for Giles, wasn’t he? Whether it was because of Giles’s wealth, or his title, it rather makes his motives and aspirations regarding you pretty plain, don’t you think? How bitter his disappointment must have been when you and Giles called things off.”
There was a glimmer of truth in his conclusions about her father, of course, for Papa had always favored her marriage to her wealthy cousin. She had no intention, however, of acknowledging the fact, nor admitting that Giles had broken their engagement because she was damaged goods. Even if he already knew all that, admitting it to him now would be too humiliating.
“An accusation of mercenary motives on anyone’s part islaughably hypocritical, coming from you,” she shot back instead, her voice shaking, even as she worked to hide her resentment of him from any watching eyes. “After all, we both know what you’re willing to do for money.”
He had the gall to look as if he didn’t know what she was talking about. “What the devil do you mean by that? If you’re referring to Pamela’s dowry again—”
“Lady Kay?”
Both of them turned at the interruption to find the Savoy’s maître d’hôtel nearby, making her wonder wildly what the man might have overheard.
“And you asked me earlier,” Devlin muttered, “how secrets get out? This is how.”
Though she was loath to admit it, he had a point, and she realized in chagrin that yet again, he had managed to provoke her into forgetting discretion, goaded her into doing and saying things that put her at risk, and gotten her all stirred up over resentments that were all in the distant past. It seemed to be, she thought grimly, his special gift.
With an effort, she ignored him, tamping down the resentment roiling within her, and addressed the maître d’hôtel. “Yes, Monsieur Latrec? What is it?”
“My apologies for interrupting, my lady, but dinner is about to be served, and we need to finish preparing the banquet room.”
“Of course,” Devlin said before she had the chance. “We wouldn’t dream of delaying you. Lady Kay?”
He offered her his arm, but when she looked at it as if it were a venomous snake, he gave a low, unexpected chuckle.
“Don’t worry, Kay. I won’t bite you. I can’t. After all, we’ve noreason for animosity, remember? And besides, we’ll all be mingling in society together this season. Your fiancé wants that, and so does Pam, apparently, so we have to be matey, and affable, and all friends together.”
“Ugh,” she groaned. “Saints preserve us.”
Still, he was right that neither of them had a choice in the matter, so she put her hand on his arm as lightly as possible. “Very well. Let’s get this over with.”
“That’s the spirit.”
Her face a mask of serene amiability, her hand in the crook of his arm, she accompanied Devlin back through the doorway, but the moment they were once again in the reception room, she pulled free, for the last thing she wanted was to be forced by proximity to accompany him in to dinner. Before she escaped his company, however, she couldn’t resist offering one last parting shot.
“I may have to put up with you for the sake of this hotel investment business you’re involved in with Wilson, but as for us ever being friends…”
Aware that all eyes in the room were fixed upon them, she paused to give him one more smile, though she only managed it through clenched teeth. “I’d rather be friends with Lucifer.”
She turned away, but if she’d hoped her parting words would leave a mark, she was disappointed, for his amused laughter followed her all the way across the room.
7
In the fortnight that followed his encounter with Kay at Simon and Delia’s opera supper, Devlin barely had time to breathe. Countless discussions with lawyers, accountants, and the other board members about the new hotel, helping Simon with the final arrangements for the Mayfair’s opening, and meeting Pam’s dozens of relatives took up every waking moment of his time, but sadly, none of that stopped his mind from returning to Kay again and again and her barbed implications.
I can’t think how you managed the blunt for such an investment. Lady Pamela’s dowry, I suppose…
Did she really think he was marrying Pam for her money?
