Because You're Mine (Capital Theatre #2)(74)

“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.

In response to the clergyman's inquiries, Logan spoke in monosyllables. His face was hard, yet composed—the look of an actor expertly masking his emotions. Madeline was certain that Logan's pride was revolted by the entire situation. He had never dreamed that he would someday be compelled to marry a woman he actively resented—but she had inadvertently forced him to this. Truly, she had intended to bear the responsibility for the baby alone…but in some part of her heart, she had known that Logan wouldn't be able to ignore his child's existence, once he found out. Regret and shame made her eyes sting with unshed tears.

As the clergyman exhorted them to love and honor each other and guided them through the vows that would bind them eternally, Logan glanced at Madeline's face, and he saw her tears. His jaw tautened until the muscles twitched. They were pronounced man and wife, and he pressed a cool kiss against her lips to seal the ceremony.

Afterward, the guests sat down to an eight-course meal in the spectacular dining hall, a circular room lined with marble and gilded Corinthian columns. The ceiling was painted with a scene from The Tempest, with ornate sheaves of Italian plasterwork trailing down the walls.

Seated at the opposite end of the long table, Madeline could barely see her husband through the crystal and gold candelabra between them. It was clear that her relatives were amazed by the luxury and beauty of their surroundings. The atmosphere lightened considerably as expensive wines flowed into crystal glasses and platters of French cuisine were brought around.

Justine's husband, Lord Bagworth, exclaimed with pleasure over the selection of exquisite vintages. “I must say, Scott, for a man who never entertains at his own home, you play the role of host to perfection.”

Before Logan could reply, Madeline's mother chose that moment to look up from her gold-rimmed plate and comment acerbically, “One can only hope that Mr. Scott will perform the role of dutiful husband with equal skill.”

Spoken in a lighter tone, the remark could easily have been taken as a friendly jest—but Agnes's disapproval couldn't have been more clear.

Madeline tensed as she waited for Logan's reply. To her relief, he answered evenly. “I trust you'll have no complaints on that score, Lady Matthews—and neither will my wife.”

“No, indeed,” Madeline said. Since she had been quiet for most of the day, her remark caused many at the table to look at her in surprise. She continued in a meaningful tone. “I'm certain my mother meant that she believes her high expectations of you will be entirely justified, Mr. Scott.”

“I know what she meant,” Logan assured her, his blue eyes touched with a flicker of amusement, the first she had seen from him that day.

The meal concluded with a course of cheese, wine, and fruit, and then the men enjoyed glasses of port and thick cigars while the ladies withdrew for tea and conversation. The Duchess of Leeds took the opportunity to speak to Madeline privately, as they occupied chairs slightly removed from the others. It was the first time they had seen each other since Madeline had left the Capital.

“Congratulations, Maddy,” Julia said. “I hope you'll both find a great deal of happiness in your marriage.”

Madeline responded with a wan smile. “Considering how it began, I don't see how that will be possible.”

Julia clucked in sympathy. “Yours isn't the first marriage to begin under less-than-perfect circumstances—nor will it be the last. I believe that having a wife and child will benefit Logan in ways he doesn't begin to suspect.”

“He'll never forgive me for what I did,” Madeline said. “And I don't blame him.”