He said nothing, however. Instead, he turned without a word and followed the girl back into the house.
Kay stared at the empty doorway, watching the carefully constructed new life she’d tried to build crumbling into ruins all around her as the ramifications of tonight’s events sank more deeply into her consciousness. Her sister’s season and prospects—and possibly even her entire future—in jeopardy. Her mother living in poverty and debt. And herself, unmarried and childless, going through a lifetime of regret over the fact that for the second time in her life she’d allowed Devlin Sharpe to wreck her life.
She was an idiot. And he was a dog.
“Kay?”
At the sound of Devlin’s voice, she turned toward him with a groan. “Why?” she cried in despair. She stepped back, tearing herself free, staring up at him through a blur of frustrated tears. “Why do you have to keep ruining my life? And why do I keep letting you?”
“Kay,” he said again and took a step toward her, lifting his hands as if to touch her.
The move sent her momentary self-pity to the wall and galvanized her into furious action. “Don’t,” she ordered, flattening a palm against his chest to stop him. “Don’t come any closer.”
To her relief, he complied, coming to a halt, letting his hands fall to his side without a word.
“Stay away from me, Devlin,” she ordered fiercely, even as her voice broke. “Just stay the hell away from me. Or I swear, I’ll shoot you dead like the cur you are.”
With that, she stepped around him and strode toward the door into the house without a backward glance.
12
Devlin watched Kay walk away, the hem of her teal green dress and the white petticoats beneath churning behind her with the force of her strides like turbulent ocean waves, her angry words still ringing in his ears.
She was right, of course. By any standards of gentlemanly conduct, he was a cur. He’d been flaying himself for days with what he’d done to wreck her life in the past, and yet, given the chance, he’d just done it again in the present.
In the space of about fifteen minutes, he’d ruined Kay’s prospects, betrayed his own fiancée, and cuckolded another man, and he ought to feel guilty as hell about all that.
But, sadly, he didn’t.
His father had always called him the devil’s spawn, and perhaps he was, because his body was burning like hellfire, lust was raging through his veins, and despite how strongly he reminded himself of how abhorrent his conduct had been, he just couldn’t work up the proper amount of regret over it.
That might be due in part to the fact that no hearts had been broken tonight. Love, as he well knew, had played no part in Kay’sengagement to Rycroft nor his to Pam. And, thankfully, there had been no witnesses to carry the embarrassing news of what had happened tonight to the poisonous pens of London’s gossipmongers.
None of that excused him, of course, and there would be repercussions for what he’d done, painful repercussions he would need to face and atone for to whatever extent was possible.
First, he needed to see Pam and apologize. Whether she’d accept it or not was open to question, for Pam had a considerable amount of pride, and he’d just shredded it to ribbons, so she might not see her way clear to forgiving him. She might very well end the engagement, but even if she didn’t end it, he would have to do so.
A man was not supposed to break an engagement, but Devlin knew he could not marry Pam now. The illusions he’d held about how his life could be had been shattered tonight. There was no going back.
A few months ago, he’d felt sure he was ready to settle down, sure enough time had passed that he could finally build a future with someone who was not Kay.
But one taste of Kay’s mouth had shown him just how thoroughly he’d been deceiving himself. Being free of her, he realized grimly, was a mirage. He could cross the world a dozen times, another fourteen years could pass, and yet he knew now that one thing would always remain the same. From the moment he’d seen Kay’s silvery green eyes look at him across that ballroom floor so long ago, she’d captured his heart and sealed his fate. Kay was his destiny, and there was no escape from that.
His way forward now was crystal clear, but there was one gigantic problem.
He turned, staring through the French doors to thedrawing room, thinking again of Kay’s anguished questions and angry departure, and he very much feared they did not have the same view about destiny.
Kay had no opportunity to speak to Wilson that evening. Not that she had any idea what she could have said to him given the shameless scene he’d just witnessed, a scene that had only confirmed that his jealousy had not been completely unreasonable. He deprived her, however, of the opportunity to say anything at all, for upon her return to the drawing room, she learned that he had retired for the night. Lady Pamela, too, had gone to bed, and after the mortifying events of the evening, who could blame her? Who could blame either of them?
Following their example, Kay also went to bed, but that did her little good. For the second night in a row, she found herself devastatingly wide awake, fuming, fretting, and staring at the ceiling, though for very different reasons.
Last night, she’d been plagued by doubts about her upcoming wedding, but if the look on Wilson’s face tonight was anything to go by, there very well might not be a wedding, and with the acknowledgment of that possibility came not only the remorse of having subjected two innocent people to a humiliating spectacle, but also gut-wrenching fear, the same fear she’d experienced right after learning that Papa had left the family destitute.
If Wilson broke with her over this, she wouldn’t blame him one bit, and if he did, she knew what would happen next. The bank that had been loaning her money based on her expectations would cuther off the moment her broken engagement became public knowledge, and they would demand repayment of what had already been borrowed. The Savoy would, understandably, kick them out of their rooms. They’d have to leave London, putting an end to Josephine’s season before it had really begun.
Kay knew her own situation would be even more dismal. At best, another broken engagement would subject her to a fresh round of gossip and speculation. Worse, if Wilson or Lady Pamela chose to relay the events they had witnessed to anyone else, and the news spread, Kay would once again be deemed a strumpet. If that happened, Kay’s past sins would come back to haunt her, and she doubted any amount of time and effort would rehabilitate her this time. She’d probably never mingle in society again. And that would put the lid on Josephine’s marital hopes as well. Few men wanted a penniless girl and a disgraced sister-in-law. And even if such a paragon existed, how could Jo ever meet him? Without a season, carted across the country from hotel to hotel every few weeks, the prospects for the girl would be dim, especially if they were forced to go abroad.
And what about her mother? Some might say Magdelene didn’t deserve any consideration after what she’d done to ruin Kay’s chances years ago, but Kay, sadly, just couldn’t work up the proper rage for such a view. She’d been driven to be desperate enough to marry a man for financial security, and despite Magdelene’s deceit, Kay could not find it in herself to condemn her parent for having similar motives.
