Kay winced at her fiancé’s opportunistic way of putting things. Once they were married, she hoped she’d be able to help him smooth over those rough edges.
“And she’s the duke’s cousin,” he went on. “Cozying up to her helps me get closer to him.”
As he spoke, Delia’s words of that night at the opera flashed through Kay’s mind.
You mean Rycroft’s marrying you for your connections?
“I see,” she murmured, a bad taste suddenly in her mouth.
“It never occurred to me that Sharpe would be there. That’s the worst of these impulsive, last-minute invitations. One never knows who one might encounter. Had I known Sharpe was going, I would have insisted you send Lady Stratham a note with some excuse. Sudden illness, or something like that.”
Kay was now totally confused. “But isn’t Sharpe a business partner, too?”
“Yes, but surely you realize that’s not the same thing. Sharpe’s not a social acquaintance. He’s got no title and no social influence. And the man’s a bounder, as we both know. I refuse to allow you anywhere near him if it can be avoided.”
“Refuse to allow?” Kay echoed with a little laugh. “Indeed? How terribly medieval of you, darling.”
Wilson did not laugh with her. Instead, he frowned. “You can’t possibly think I’d feel any other way?”
“I did think just that,” she confessed. “It being a business dinner, I thought you’d want me by your side.”
“Women should never think about business matters. You always get things wrong.”
Kay was a bit irritated by this sweeping generalization about her sex, but, tactfully, she didn’t show it. Instead, she stuck to the topic at hand. “You just said how important keeping in with the duke is, so I thought—”
“That’s what I don’t get,” he interrupted. “What was the duke thinking to even invite you? Seems in thoroughly bad taste to me.”
Kay shrugged. “Not really. I’ve known the duke all my life. His sister Idina, Lady Rothmere, and his cousin, Lady Delia Stratham, have long been friends of mine. We all came out together. I’m sure one of them did the invitations. They probably felt as I did, that you’d want me there.”
“If so, it was damned silly of them, and you. I’m surprised at you, Kay. You will write immediately and refuse the invitation.”
She stiffened, her irritation deepening at this criticism of herself and her friends, and by the peremptory way he dictated what her actions would be. “Are you forbidding me to go?”
“Since you put it that way, yes.”
Kay thought of all the times her father had forbidden her to go to an event, of the rigidity with which she’d been controlled as a girl, of the two years she’d spent banished to Wales, and something rose inside her, a feeling she hadn’t felt since the summer she turned eighteen—a sudden flash of rebellion, the same sort of rebellion that had sent her careening off to Gretna Green with Devlin. She knew the high price one could pay for such impulsive decisions, but despite that, and despite the fact that she had not initially wanted to go to this soiree in the first place, the idea of being ordered not to go impelled her to debate the point.
“Well, I’m sorry if that’s how you feel about it,” she answered. “But I’m afraid it’s too late to refuse. I already accepted the invitation.”
“What?”
“As I said, I had thought surely you would want me to go. It never occurred to me that you would object. Now I have to go.”
“Nonsense. Write again and take back your acceptance.”
“I can’t do that,” she said, feeling an incomprehensible hint ofpleasure in conveying that bit of news. “One does not renege on an accepted invitation, especially not to a duke.”
He shrugged. “You can think of something that won’t offend him. You forgot you had a prior engagement. Or something unexpected has occurred. Or feign illness. He can hardly take offense to you being ill.”
All of these were excuses she herself had considered, but Kay had no intention of exercising any of them now that her acceptance had been tendered. “Lie to the duke?” she said. “I’m astonished that you would suggest such a thing.”
“Your astonishment is of no account.”
Kay stiffened at those dismissive words. “But—”
“You will write to the duke,” he cut in, “and refuse the invitation, or I will do it for you.”
The tenor of his voice brooked no opposition. His displeasure with her was palpable, warning her it was best not to antagonize him further, but before Kay could invent a reply that would both enable her to stand her ground and defuse his anger, another voice entered the conversation.
