Prologue #2
“You will find that I am a very masculine sort,” Lord Clifton said, breathing heavily, appearing satisfied with his conquest. “I don’t spout poetry or pander to women’s ridiculous notions of what they want.
I do as I please, and you will learn to like it exceedingly.
” His pudgy hand stroked the side of her pale, strained face.
“Lovely,” he murmured. “Lovely. I’ve never seen eyes the color of yours, like amber.
” His fingers twisted in a stray wisp of her golden-brown hair, rubbing the silken strands repeatedly.
“How I look forward to the day when you’ll be mine! ”
Madeline set her jaw hard to keep it from trembling. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him that she would never belong to him, but the sense of duty and responsibility that had been instilled in her from birth kept her silent.
Clifton must have noticed her involuntary shiver. “You’re getting cold,” he said in a tone he might have used with a very small child. “Come, let us go inside before you catch a chill.”
Relieved, she rose with alacrity and stepped with him into the parlor.
As soon as Lord and Lady Matthews saw the ring on Madeline’s finger, they erupted in smiles and congratulations—they, who made a point of never showing enthusiasm because they considered it unrefined.
“What a generous gift,” Agnes exclaimed, her normally sallow face glowing with pleasure. “And such an exquisite ring, Lord Clifton.”
“I think so,” he said modestly, jowls flapping with gratification.
Madeline watched with a faint, frozen smile as her father ushered Lord Clifton to the library for a celebratory drink. As soon as they were out of hearing, she tore the ring from her hand and flung it to the carpet.
“Madeline,” Agnes exclaimed, “retrieve that at once! I will not abide such childish tantrums. You will wear that ring from now on—and you will take pride in it!”
“It doesn’t fit,” Madeline said stonily. Remembering the feel of Clifton’s wet mouth on hers, she scrubbed her sleeve across her face until her lips and chin were raw. “I won’t marry him, Mama. I’ll kill myself first.”
“Don’t be dramatic, Madeline.” Agnes bent and picked up the ring, holding it as if it were priceless. “I hope that being married to a man as solid and earthbound as Lord Clifton will rid you of such wild outbursts.”
“Earthbound,” Madeline whispered with a bitter smile. She found it incredible that her mother could sum up all the repulsive qualities in Clifton with such a banal word. “Just the quality every girl dreams of in the man she marries.”
For once it was a relief to return to the academy, where there were no males except for the dancing instructor who came to tutor the girls once a week.
Madeline walked along the narrow hallway with a hatbox in hand.
The rest of her belongings would be brought upstairs later.
Reaching the room she shared with her best friend, Eleanor Sinclair, she came upon a crowd of a half-dozen girls settled on the beds and chairs.
As Madeline was the oldest student at Mrs. Allbright’s academy, and Eleanor was the second-oldest at seventeen, they were frequently visited by the younger girls, who considered them mature and worldly.
The girls appeared to be sharing a tin of biscuits and exclaiming over some colored print that Eleanor held. Noticing Madeline’s arrival, Eleanor gave her a welcoming smile. “How was Lord Clifton?” she asked, having known before Madeline’s departure of the planned meeting with her betrothed.
“Even worse than I expected,” Madeline replied shortly, walking to her own narrow bed, which was placed opposite Eleanor’s. She dropped the hatbox to the floor and sat on the edge of the mattress, wishing that the girls would leave so she could talk privately with her friend.
Soon, Eleanor’s friendly gaze promised, while the other girls continued to huddle in their excited circle.
“Just look at him,” one of them exclaimed breathlessly. “Can you imagine what it would be like to actually meet him?”
“I would faint,” someone else declared, and they all giggled.
“He’s the most handsome—”
“He looks like a highwayman—”
“Yes, there’s something in the eyes…”
Madeline shook her head at the flurry of feminine sighs. “What in heaven’s name are you looking at?” she asked, her glumness replaced by growing curiosity.
“Let Madeline see—”
“But I haven’t gotten a proper look yet—”
“Here, Madeline.” Eleanor brought the colored print to her. “My older sister gave it to me. It’s the most difficult-to-find print in London. Everyone wants a copy.”
Madeline’s gaze fell on the picture. The longer she stared at it, the more fascinated she became.
The man’s face could have belonged to a king, a sea captain, or an outlaw…
someone powerful…someone dangerous. He was not classically handsome—his features were too bold.
There was a lionesque quality about his lean face, his gaze narrow and piercing, his wide mouth set with the hint of an ironic smile.
The color of his hair was indeterminately brown in the print, but it appeared to be thick and slightly rumpled.
The other girls waited for her to blush and giggle as they had been doing, but Madeline kept all sign of emotion from showing. “Who is he?” she asked Eleanor calmly.
“Logan Scott.”
“The actor?”
“Yes, the one who owns the Capital Theatre.”
A strange feeling came over Madeline as she continued to stare at him.
She had heard about Logan Scott, but she had never seen his likeness before now.
At the age of thirty, Scott was an actor of international fame, surpassing the standards set by David Garrick and Edmund Kean.
Some even said he had not yet reached the height of his powers.
Among his attributes was a voice that was reputed to stroke the ears like velvet or set fire to the air with its crackling intensity.
It was said that women pursued him everywhere, enthralled not only by his skillful stage performances as the romantic hero, but even more by his portrayal of archvillains. He excelled as Iago or Barabbas…he was the consummate seducer, betrayer, and manipulator, and women adored him for it.
A man in his prime, attractive, cultured…
everything Lord Clifton was not. Madeline was wrenched with sudden longing.
Logan Scott inhabited a world she would never be part of.
She would never meet him or anyone like him…
she would never flirt and laugh and dance, never be seduced by a man’s tender words or a lover’s touch.
As she stared at Logan Scott’s face, a wild, mad idea came to her—one that made her fingers tremble.
“Madeline, what’s the matter?” Eleanor asked in concern, taking the print from her. “You’re so white all of a sudden, and you look very strange—”
“I’m just tired,” Madeline said, forcing a smile to her face. She wanted to be alone; she needed time to think. “The weekend was a strain. Perhaps if I rest for a while—”
“Yes, of course. Come, girls—we’ll meet in someone else’s room.” Considerately Eleanor herded the crowd out the door and paused before closing it. “Madeline, is there anything you need?”
“No, thank you.”
“I’m certain that seeing Lord Clifton this weekend was an ordeal. I wish I could help in some way.”
“You already have, Eleanor.” Madeline lay on her side, drawing her knees up to her chest, the skirts of her simple school frock bunched around her. Her mind raced with thoughts, and she scarcely noticed her friend’s quiet departure.
Logan Scott…a man whose appetite for women was nearly as legendary as his acting talent.
The longer Madeline considered her own dilemma, the more convinced she became that Scott could provide the solution. She would use him to make herself so undesirable to Lord Clifton that he would have no choice but to call off the engagement.
She would have an affair with Logan Scott.
The sacrifice of her virginity would solve everything. If she had to live out the rest of her days in disgrace, regarded by society as used goods, so be it. Anything was preferable to becoming Clifton’s wife.
Feverishly she began to make plans. She would forge a note from her family, requesting her to return from boarding school a semester early.
During the following weeks, her parents would assume that she was safe at school, while Mrs. Allbright would think she had returned home, leaving Madeline free to accomplish her task.
She would go to the Capital Theatre and acquaint herself with Mr. Scott.
After she indicated her willingness to sleep with him, Madeline expected that the matter would be quickly resolved.
It was a well-known fact that all men, no matter how honorable they seemed, wanted to seduce nice young girls.
And a man with Scott’s reputation would show no hesitation in matters of sin and debauchery.
When she was ruined beyond redemption, she would return to her parents and accept whatever punishment they meted out.
Most likely she would be banished to the home of some relative in the country.
Lord Clifton would have a complete distaste for her, and she would finally be free of his attentions.
The course she had set for herself would not be easy or pleasant, but there was no other way.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad, living as a spinster after all this was over.
She would have ample time to read and study, and after a few years Mama and Papa might allow her to travel.
She would try to involve herself in charitable works and do some good for people in circumstances worse than hers.
She would make the best of things. At least, Madeline thought with grim determination, she would choose her fate rather than have it handed to her.