Because You're Mine (Capital Theatre #2)(79)

Logan accepted the snifter of brandy and nodded grimly, waiting for further mockery.

“Well done, then,” Andrew said abruptly, surprising him. “She's a likely wench, not to mention easy on the eye…and you could hardly do better than the daughter of a viscount.”

“No remarks about my being ‘caught’?” Logan asked. “I was certain you'd have something to say about that.” He sipped his brandy slowly, rolling the fine flavor on his tongue.

Andrew smiled. “You weren't caught, Jimmy. I've known you for too long. You wouldn't have married her unless you wanted her.”

Andrew was right…the only reason he had married Madeline was because he wanted her, needed her. The pregnancy had been a convenient excuse. Strange, that Andrew could have seen that so easily.

“We have no secrets from each other, do we?” Logan asked, staring at the man next to him and realizing that they were indeed brothers. Now he knew why they had remained friends for so long. They had each unknowingly felt the pull of their shared blood for years.

“Not one,” Andrew agreed cheerfully.

The urge to tell him…Andrew, I'm your brother…was so strong that Logan bit the insides of his lips to keep from speaking. He drank deeply of the brandy. There was no predicting for certain what Andrew's reaction would be to the revelation. Perhaps he might take a fleeting pleasure in the news, but Logan doubted it. More likely, Andrew would be suspicious, skeptical, bitter. He would turn against his father, and Logan as well, and cut himself loose from any kind of steadying influence. Logan had no wish to see his half brother embark on a gambling or drinking spree that could result in ruin.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Andrew asked, quirking his dark brows. “Just as my father does…like a scientist about to dissect a specimen.”

“Sorry.” Logan relaxed his features. “I was just thinking that you seem a bit fashed, Andrew. Been spending too much time at the hazard tables of late?”

“One night too many,” Andrew admitted with a forced laugh. “But my confessions will keep 'til later. I only came by to offer my congratulations.”

“If you're in trouble—”

“I'm always in trouble.” Andrew rested his boots on the desk, heedless of the books and papers beneath his muddy heels. “But at least life is never boring. Tell me, Jimmy…how does it feel to be a married man?”

“I've only been wed for a day,” Logan said dryly. “It's too soon to come to any conclusion.”

Andrew made a face. “I can't say I'd fancy being served the same supper every night for the rest of my life. But, of course, a man can slip out now and then for a little variety, as long as he's discreet.”

“I suppose,” Logan murmured, contemplating his brandy absently. Madeline was hardly in a position to object were he to take a mistress. But he had no desire to insult her that way…and though he might belie it, the truth was that no woman had ever appealed to him as she did.

Andrew seemed to read his thoughts, reacting with a spurt of incredulous laughter. “Good God—don't tell me you're in love with her?”

“No,” Logan said swiftly, his eyes turning hard.

“That's a relief. Love is poison, Jimmy. Just remember what happened the last time you succumbed to it.”

“How could I forget?” Logan said, his voice tainted with sudden malice, and he stared at Andrew until the latter murmured uncomfortably and finished his brandy.

“I must be off, Jimmy. Good luck to you, and all that. By the by, I heard a rumor that you'll soon be giving a ball for her at your estate. If that's true, I'll be expecting an invitation.” Breezily he waved good-bye and left the office, his booted feet echoing in the hallway.

“There's no reason for Logan to host such a grand affair…not for my sake.” Madeline stared in distress at samples of hand-painted invitations, trying to envision the prospect of six hundred guests pouring through Logan's elegant London mansion.

“It's not all for your sake, dear,” Julia replied dryly, sitting nearby as she worked on the guest list. “It's partly to assuage Logan's all-important pride. Rather than handle the circumstances of your marriage with discretion, he wants to make a show of it, to demonstrate that he couldn't be more pleased with the situation. No doubt such a spectacle will dull the point of many a gossip's arrow—especially the ones who want to receive invitations.” Frowning slightly, Julia crossed out a few names and inserted others, striving to achieve the perfect blend.

“But why have it here?” Madeline asked. “Logan will hate having hundreds of people wandering through his home, staring at his art collection and investigating every surface and corner—”

“Of course he will. However, he knows that hosting the ball at his mysterious mansion will drive people into a frenzy. Everyone of significance is already begging for an invitation, and those who suspect they won't get one are already making plans to leave London the night of the ball.”

“He'll lose all his privacy,” Madeline said, unable to share Julia's enthusiasm.

“I'm certain Logan knew when he married you that he had to sacrifice most of his privacy. He certainly wouldn't expect a girl of your age to enjoy his reclusive lifestyle. You'll want to dance and attend the opera, travel, join clubs and social groups—” Julia stopped and peered at the list in her lap more closely. “Hmm. I should add a few more international names…”