Because You're Mine (Capital Theatre #2)(33)

“I want to stay here.”

He appeared to be unmoved. “Believe me, it's best for both of us.”

Madeline swallowed hard while a sickening tide of disappointment swept over her. What now? Her offer had been made and rejected. The sound of his refusal rang in her ears until she burned with mortified anger. Her hands clenched in her skirts, crushing the gossamer material.

How foolish she had been! She had wasted so much time spinning fantasies about him, about things that would never happen. Now she was left with nothing except the knowledge that soon her absence from school would be discovered by her family.

For a fraction of a second, she considered explaining the situation to Mr. Scott and throwing herself on his mercy. No…he would have no sympathy for her. Marry Clifton and consider yourself well off, she could almost hear him saying cynically. In truth, she was hardly fit to do anything else.

Clenching her fists, Madeline went to the door with determined strides. She would not spend the rest of her days as a possession of Lord Clifton's. “Very well,” she said, pausing at the door. “I'll leave the Capital whenever you wish. You needn't bother to find another situation for me. I'm perfectly capable of finding something on my own.” She left before he could reply.

Logan wandered to the door and braced his hand on the upper panels. He pressed his forehead to the cool wood and let out a muffled groan.

One night with you…he would have given up his entire fortune for it. He had never known anything as exquisite as the feel of her in his arms, and the fearless vulnerability that welcomed and drew him near until he felt close to shattering. But he couldn't allow that, couldn't let someone tear out what was left of his heart.

She would be gone soon. He waited for a feeling of relief that did not come.

Wrenching open the door, he went to his office, ignoring the curious stares of the people he passed. He closed himself inside the small room and rummaged in his desk until he found a bottle of Highland whiskey. He sat at his desk and took a swig right from the bottle, letting the subtle flavors of smoke and peat linger on his tongue. Another swallow, and his throat was filled with the warming glow. But it failed to melt the block of ice in his chest.

Logan drank leisurely, resting his feet on the edge of the desk and contemplating the tips of his polished leather shoes. At this point in his life, when he was saturated with success, he had thought himself invulnerable. It was amusing, really, that one small female had been able to wreak such havoc on him.

Perhaps it was because Maddy was unique in his experience. She was certainly a far cry from the women of society's upper circles, who made certain Logan knew they were his superiors even as they slipped him discreet notes to arrange romantic rendezvous.

And there were the creatures he detested most of all…the pedigreed daughters of the upper classes, whose only purpose in life was to marry and reproduce more of their kind. He wasn't good enough for them. He had no family or title, and money alone wasn't sufficient.

Had he desired to court one of those privileged young ladies, he would have been informed by her family that she had far more desirable prospects. Just the sight of a chaperoned, white-gowned virgin at a ball or soirée was enough to remind Logan that no matter how great his achievements, there were some things he could never have. He would never be fully accepted. Outside the theater, there was no place he really belonged.

Madeline Ridley seemed equally out of place. She was too warm and unaffected to be a society miss, too idealistic to be a courtesan. She was clearly meant to be someone's wife, but he couldn't imagine a man who would be worthy of her. She needed someone who would take care not to crush her spirit, who would be able to love her as completely as she would love him.

All of the things Logan could never do. He was ill-equipped for such a relationship, having been taught at an early age to despise the words “home” and “family.” He had survived only by becoming as callous as the man who had sired him.

Years of beatings and abuse had toughened him and made him a supremely good liar. His father, Paul Jennings, had always committed his acts of violence in the midst of a drunken rage…but afterward he had resisted facing the results of what he had done. Logan had been required to pretend that all was forgotten, maintaining the fiction that everyone in the Jennings household was happy and well. The sight of one tear, one wince of pain or resentful glance, had been enough to incur a second beating worse than the first. Unwittingly, his father had been a superb acting teacher.

Once, after a particularly brutal beating, Logan had gone for three days with a broken arm, denying that he felt any pain until Andrew had finally dragged him to the estate mansion and seen that the arm was splinted and bound. “How did it happen, boy?” the earl had asked him, his keen eyes fastened on Logan's battered face. Logan had refused to answer, knowing that if he even hinted at the truth, Paul Jennings would probably kill him.

Years later, Logan had wondered why his mother had never offered him any consolation, no maternal kisses to soothe the hurts. He had come to the conclusion that his mother had been too desperately determined to keep the peace in her house to spare him much attention. He had long since ceased to want softness from a woman…he didn't need comfort or caring. Women were to be enjoyed and discarded, but never to be trusted. Never to be needed.

Now that things had finally been settled with Madeline, all he had to do was ignore her until Arlyss was well again. He had no doubt that Julia would protest the girl's dismissal, but he could deal with that. Besides, Julia would soon be occupied with a newborn baby, and all thoughts of Madeline Ridley would fade. Soon it would be as if she had never been there at all.