Because You're Mine (Capital Theatre #2)(73)

“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.”