Chapter 11 #3
“Thank you,” Madeline said to Logan with a catch in her voice. “I’ve never had anything so beautiful.”
Logan’s shoulders moved in an indifferent shrug. “If you wish, we’ll exchange it for something else.”
“Oh, no…it’s perfect.” She stared at the sparkling diamond, searching for the right words to thank him, but nothing seemed appropriate.
Unable to suppress her curiosity, Justine hurried over to them.
“Do let me see it, Madeline! Dear heavens, what a magnificent stone. May I try it on?” Before the request had even passed her lips, she had tugged the ring from Madeline’s finger and was inspecting it with an admiring gaze.
“Flawless, and such a spectacular color!” She threw the two of them a sly glance.
“I should think a gift like this deserves more than a paltry ‘thank-you,’ Madeline. Shouldn’t you reward Mr. Scott with a kiss?
Mama’s not here, after all…and I would never tell. ”
Madeline glanced at Logan in consternation, unable to read his expression. “Mr. Scott is very private—” she said, but Logan interrupted with a roguish smile.
“Not that private, sweet.” His hands slid gently over her cheeks, holding her still as his lips descended to hers.
She quivered at the light brush of his mouth, the way he tasted her as if she were a delicacy to be savored.
It was merely a display, she reminded herself, to convince Justine that they were in love…
but she couldn’t prevent the glow of pleasure that spread through her.
Her knees wobbled, and she swayed against him, disoriented by the sheer delight of his mouth on hers.
Logan finished the kiss with a soft nudge of his lips and drew back to stare at her.
“Well,” came Justine’s speculative voice, “you seem quite taken with my little sister, Mr. Scott. One can’t help but wonder what a man of your sophistication sees in a girl like her.”
Logan’s mouth twisted sardonically. It was clear that Justine harbored more than a touch of jealousy. “Madeline has the qualities I’ve always desired in a wife,” he replied evenly.
“She’s willful,” Justine said. “One can only hope you’ll have better luck than my parents at restraining her.”
“Justine,” Madeline said, glaring at her sister from beneath her lashes, “you needn’t talk about me as if I were a disobedient household pet.”
Logan laughed suddenly, and there was a flash of approval in his gaze as he guided Madeline to the settee. “Save your squabbling for later,” he murmured. “I don’t have much time, and there are details about the wedding that I’d like to discuss.”
“Won’t you stay for dinner?” Madeline asked.
He shook his head immediately. “I have no desire to put anyone—least of all myself—through the trial of making small talk at the Matthews table.”
“That’s probably wise,” Justine remarked with sly amusement. “Our mother’s disapproval of you is hardly a secret. It’s a pity, though…I’ve a feeling you would be a most entertaining dinner companion, Mr. Scott.”
“That’s for your sister to say,” Logan replied, looking at Madeline in a way that reminded her of the last time they had shared dinner together…and the night of passion that had followed. He seemed to take grim enjoyment in her discomfort.
Thankfully the conversation turned to more mundane matters, but Madeline couldn’t keep her mind focused on the subject of their wedding.
Thoughts swarmed in her head. One week from now she would become Logan’s wife, and if he desired her, they would share a bed again.
He had warned her that it wouldn’t be as pleasant as before.
She supposed that meant he would no longer care about her pleasure.
Or perhaps he would even cause her pain—although she couldn’t quite believe that of him.
Logan was not a cruel man, despite his temper.
Agnes returned to participate in the discussion of wedding details, offering few objections to Logan’s plans except when it came to her daughter’s attire.
There was no way on God’s earth, she assured him, that she would allow Madeline to wear white.
“It would be the height of hypocrisy,” Agnes said firmly. “Madeline has forfeited that right.”
Logan met her gaze without blinking. “Madeline was innocent when I met her. She’s entitled to wear white during our wedding.”
“Not when you take your vows before God, with Madeline dressed in the color of purity. It would be blasphemous. I wouldn’t be surprised if a bolt of lightning pierced the roof!”
Logan’s mouth twisted sardonically. “Although I don’t claim to be a religious man, I suspect that the Lord has other things to worry about besides the color of Maddy’s gown.”
“Maddy,” Agnes repeated, shaking her head in distaste at the nickname. “I’ll thank you not to call my daughter by a name that sounds appropriate for a barmaid—”
“Mother,” Justine interrupted, placing a restraining hand on Agnes’s narrow shoulder. Agnes subsided, her expression as dark as a thundercloud.
Madeline gathered her nerve and touched Logan’s shoulder lightly. “Please,” she said, her voice soft. “Mother is right…I shouldn’t wear white.”
Although it was clear that Logan would have liked to argue, he scowled and made no reply, letting his silence serve as assent.
“Thank you,” Madeline said, relief washing over her.
“I don’t give a damn if you go through the ceremony stark naked,” he muttered. “I’d like the damned thing to be over with, so I can get on with my work.”
Overhearing the comment, Agnes stiffened and glared at Logan, while Justine sought to calm her yet again.
Madeline’s gaze fell to her lap. She understood Logan’s impatience, knowing that the Capital would always take precedence over everything else in his life. No mere person would ever surpass his beloved theater.
With the matter of the wedding attire agreed upon, the conversation was quickly resolved, and Logan took his leave.
After his departure, the mixture of nerves and exhilaration that had seized Madeline began to fade.
Feeling slightly depressed, she returned to her room to continue packing, and Justine accompanied her.
“What an extraordinary man!” Justine exclaimed as soon as the bedroom door was closed. “Such a presence—and those blue eyes! However, it’s the voice that I find most remarkable. I think he could seduce any woman with that voice—even if he were reciting mathematical equations!”
As she listened to her sister’s admiring comments, Madeline was aware of an inward flicker of pride. Justine had always treated her with a mixture of affection and condescension. Now, for the first time, there was an envious tone in Justine’s voice.
“What a little minx you turned out to be,” Justine said. “Neither Althea nor I could believe it when we heard that you’d run away from school and had an affair with Logan Scott. I think it’s delicious. Of course, it is a pity that you’re marrying a man so far beneath you.”
Madeline stiffened. “I don’t consider him beneath me in any way.”
“That’s the right spirit. You must go on as if you’re not even aware of his low birth.” Justine leaned forward, her eyes filled with keen interest. “Scott seems a very virile man. I suppose he was very masterful? Do tell me what it was like, Madeline!”
“I couldn’t,” Madeline protested, startled by the request. “That’s private.”
“But I’m your sister—you can confide anything in me. Now tell me about Mr. Scott, and in return I’ll tell you anything you wish to know about Lord Bagworth.”
Madeline pictured Justine’s short, round-faced husband and began to smile. “Justine…forgive me, but that’s hardly an inducement.”
“Well.” Her older sister sat back and gave her a look of annoyance. “Lord Bagworth may not be as dashing as Mr. Scott, but he has entrees in society that far surpass your husband’s.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Madeline replied, suppressing a laugh.
She had not expected such a reaction from her sister.
Justine had always been so satisfied, even smug, about landing a titled husband with an expansive country estate, a fine London home, and a score of servants to attend her.
But Logan Scott had even greater wealth—and as Justine had admitted, he was very dashing.
Madeline didn’t care that he hadn’t even a drop of blue blood in his veins.
Logan was the most fascinating and accomplished man she had ever met, and she could ask for no worthier husband.
In fact, she only hoped that she could become worthy of him.
They were married a week later in Logan’s drawing room, with its richly colored paintings and shining parquet floor. Madeline was vaguely conscious of her family standing behind them: her parents, her sister Justine, and Lord Bagworth.
The only people Logan had invited to the ceremony were the Duke and Duchess of Leeds, and, strangely, Mrs. Florence.
It puzzled Madeline that Logan had desired the elderly woman’s presence at his wedding, when he had never met her until recently.
They treated each other with polite wariness, but Madeline sensed that they shared some secret that no one else was privileged to know.
Perhaps she would find out later what confidence had occurred between them, and why they each seemed to have some greater knowledge of the situation than anyone else present.