“Actually, it isn’t.” Kay looked over her shoulder, shaking her head. “It’s Wilson.”
“What?” Josephine cried with lively scorn. “Send the blackguard off with a flea in his ear, that’s what I say. He deserves that and so much more.”
Kay, who knew there was plenty of blame to go around, did not bother to reply.
“Jilting you,” Jo went on. “The cad. And for Pamela, who is one of the most useless ornamental nitwits in London!”
“Well, if that’s true,” Kay replied, smiling a little at her sister’schoice of words, “then being chained to her for life is him getting what he deserves, don’t you think?”
Josephine laughed. “Rather,” she agreed, and nodded to the card. “What are you going to do?”
“I daresay you’re right. I should refuse to see him. But I confess, I am curious why he’s here. And,” she added, considering, “it might be best to not end all this on an ugly note.” Kay turned to the waiting footman. “Send him up.”
When Wilson arrived, Kay was surprised to discover that her only thought at the sight of him was relief. No hurt pride, no guilt, and oddly enough, no regrets. Despite everything, as she looked into Wilson’s ice-gray eyes, she knew one thing with absolute certainty, one thing that made regret impossible. She knew she had been saved from making an irrevocable mistake.
Not that she’d ever admit that to Devlin, of course. And if he—
“Thank you for seeing me.”
Wilson’s voice recalled her to the present moment. “Not at all,” she answered and opened the door wide to let him enter.
He came in and took a quick glance around. “Did someone die?”
Kay gave him a rueful look, but she saw no need to tell him who’d sent all the flowers. It would only confirm his jealous suspicions and validate his decision to marry someone else.
“No,” she said and waved a hand vaguely in the air. “It’s just that it’s the season. Jo’s debut and… and everything.”
It was a ridiculous explanation, of course, for no one sent a debutante twelve dozen flowers, but being an American, he might believe it.
Thankfully, he gave a nod, accepting her reply at face value. “Is your mother here?”
“She’s resting in her room.” Kay gestured to the tea things spread across the table. “Would you care for tea?”
“No.” Even he must have sensed the abruptness of that reply. “No, thank you,” he amended and nodded to her sister. “Miss Josephine.”
Jo gave him a hostile answering stare and didn’t reply, and he returned his attention to Kay. “I was hoping we could speak privately.”
“I’m not leaving.” Jo folded her arms, looking decidedly mulish, and Kay wanted to hug her. “At least,” she amended with a glance at Kay, “not because you say so. I’ll only go if Kay wants me to.”
Kay smiled at that. “Why don’t you go down to the restaurant and make us a dinner reservation for tonight? That will take about… fifteen minutes, I imagine.”
Jo gave a nod of understanding, and with one last hostile glance at Wilson, she departed. As the door closed behind her, Kay moved to sit on one of the room’s settees, gesturing for Wilson to take a seat opposite her.
“I understand congratulations are in order,” she said.
“Hmm.” He shifted his weight on the settee, looking, Kay was gratified to note, slightly ashamed of himself. “Yes, well, Pam and I rather hit it off at the house party. Perhaps that was because,” he added dryly, “we sensed we had something in common.”
What? she wanted to ask. A thirst for vengeance?
She bit the words back. “I suppose you did,” she said instead. “And I hope the two of you will be very happy.”
“Happier than you and I would have been, under the circumstances.” His face hardened into merciless, unforgiving lines. “Youmust understand, I could never marry a woman who has demonstrated that she can’t be faithful to me.”
She grimaced, but though his assessment was brutal, it was also, sadly, fair. “I understand.”
“As for being happy…” He paused and shrugged. “We’ll be as happy as most married people, I expect. For one thing, Pam will be able to bail out that worthless spendthrift father of hers. What is it with you Brits, anyway? Spending yourselves into oblivion and refusing to work?”
“Gentlemen aren’t supposed to work.”
