Because You're Mine (Capital Theatre #2)(58)

The housemaid's tap on the door was a welcome interruption. She entered the room with a silver tea tray, giving Logan a shy smile as she passed.

“You don't have to be honest with me,” Julia said in a low voice, staring at him with exasperation. “But at least be honest with yourself.”

It was early evening at Somerset Street, and Madeline's heart drummed as she stepped from the carriage,. She stared at Mrs. Florence's house with a mixture of hope and trepidation.

“Shall I tell the driver to bring the bags in?” her maid inquired.

Madeline hesitated before replying. “I don't know if we'll be staying, Norma. Please wait in the carriage for a few minutes while I call on my friend.”

“Yes, miss.”

Madeline smiled at her gratefully. It was only because of the maid's kind and sympathetic nature that she was able to pay a visit to Mrs. Florence. At this moment Madeline was supposed to be arriving at her sister Justine's home for a month-long stay, but thanks to a forged note sent to her sister and a bribe to the family driver, they wouldn't be expected until tomorrow. “Thank you, Norma,” she said quietly. “I don't know how to thank you for keeping this visit to Mrs. Florence a secret. I know the risk you're taking by helping me.”

“I've known you for many years, miss,” Norma replied. “You're a good, kind girl—the best of the Matthews lot, I daresay. It's made all the staff sad to see you so brokenhearted. If talking with your friend will make you better, 'tis worth the risk.” The maid retreated into the carriage, pulling a heavy fur-lined blanket up to her shoulders.

Madeline took care to walk between the thick patches of ice as she approached Mrs. Florence's house. It had been over two months since she had been there, and she had no idea what kind of reception to expect. It wasn't likely that Mrs. Florence would turn Madeline away—she was too gracious for that. Still, Madeline was uneasy as she knocked at the front door.

Soon after leaving London, Madeline had written a letter of, explanation and apology to Mrs. Florence and had asked her not to send a reply, as her parents had forbidden all communication with the outside world. It must have seemed to everyone who had known her that she had disappeared from the face of the earth.

Her parents were considering various plans for her, everything from living abroad to working as a companion for an elderly relative. Perhaps what had angered them most was Madeline's statement that any of these options pleased her better than their original intention of marrying her to Lord Clifton.

Lord and Lady Matthews had been devastated by a visit from Lord Clifton, who had wished to formally terminate the betrothal arrangement and retrieve the ring he had given to Madeline. As he had stood before her, his jowly face quivering with righteous indignation, Madeline hadn't been able to prevent a small, hard smile from coming to her lips. Only the thought of Logan, and the grief she had caused him, kept her from feeling triumphant.

“I pawned the ring, Lord Clifton,” Madeline told him without a trace of remorse.

He looked like an apoplectic frog. “You pawned my family ring? And used the proceeds to finance your fiendish little plot?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Clifton's outraged gaze traveled from her resolute face to her parents' stricken ones, and back again. “Well,” he huffed angrily, “it appears that I have been spared from making a grievous mistake. A pity I didn't realize earlier that you were never fit to be my wife.”

“Lord Clifton,” Madeline's mother Agnes cried, “I can't express how deeply sorry we are—”

“No, I am sorry—for all of you.” He sent Madeline a contemptuous glance. “There's no telling what will become of you now. I hope you're aware of what you could have had, were it not for your deceit and stupidity.”

“I know exactly what I've given up,” Madeline assured him with a subtle trace of irony, and her smile was bittersweet. She had succeeded in escaping from Lord Clifton…but the price had been a high one. Not just for her, but for Logan.

She also felt sorry for her parents; their misery was all too clear. Her mother was especially distraught. “I can't bear the thought of what people will say,” Agnes had declared in a voice as taut as the embroidery thread in her hands. Her thin fingers jerked and rugged at a strand, tangling the colored floss. “I can't abide the disgrace Madeline has brought on us. It is clear that she must go abroad. We'll tell everyone that she wishes to continue her studies on the continent.”

“How long must I stay away?” Madeline asked, her cheeks coloring. It was difficult to hear her own mother making plans to dispose of her.

“I have no idea,” Agnes said tautly. “People have long memories. It will take years for the scandal to fade. Foolish girl, not to realize how much better off you would have been as Lord Clifton's wife!”

“I told you I didn't want Lord Clifton,” Madeline said calmly. “You left me no other choice. I'm willing to accept the consequences of what I've done.”

“Have you no regrets at all?” Agnes asked in outrage. “What you did was sinful and cruel.”

“Yes, I know,” Madeline whispered. “I'll never forgive myself for hurting Mr. Scott. But as for the rest—”

“You didn't hurt that debauched actor; you hurt yourself! You destroyed your entire life and brought shame on all of us.”