Because You're Mine (Capital Theatre #2)(80)

While the duchess labored over the list, Madeline subsided in her chair with a quiet moan. She was beginning to understand what Logan wanted of her, and it would require the performance of her life. Not only was she to hold her head high as people tried to observe if she was showing or not…she was also to move among the crowd with confidence and poise—things they would expect of Logan Scott's wife. If she failed, it would reflect badly on Logan as well as herself. Why would he put her to such a test, and so soon after their marriage?

“I don't know if I can do it,” she said aloud, her fingers twining tightly in her lap.

Julia's turquoise eyes flickered with friendly sympathy. “Maddy…all he expects is that you try.”

Madeline nodded. She would do whatever Logan asked, because she loved him. He must never regret having married her. No matter how long it took, she would make him admit someday that he had chosen the right woman to share his life with. “I'll do more than try,” she said. “I'm going to succeed.”

“Good for you,” Julia said with an admiring laugh. “You're made of resilient stuff, aren't you?”

“I hope so.”

As the two women worked and talked, a tray of tea and delicate sandwiches was brought in, but Madeline couldn't bring herself to eat anything. Nausea was still a persistent problem. Logan had clearly been annoyed by her lack of appetite and had threatened to send for the doctor if she didn't improve soon.

“I wouldn't worry,” Julia reassured her. “Your appetite will return soon enough. You'll regain the weight you've lost, and a great deal more.”

Madeline rested a hand on her own flat stomach. “I'm actually looking forward to it. Right now it doesn't seem as if there is a baby at all.”

“Wait until it starts moving and kicking,” Julia said, smiling. “Then you'll have no doubt.”

The afternoon grew late, and Julia departed with the promise that she would return on the morrow to take Madeline calling with her. There were a few young married women whom Madeline must meet. “Not all of my friends are in the theater, you know,” Julia said impishly. “Marrying the duke has forced me to associate with respectable people from time to time.”

The duchess was being extraordinarily kind, Madeline reflected after she had left. It spoke of Julia's high regard for Logan, that she would go out of her way to be so gracious to his wife. Relaxing in a plush corner of the parlor settee, Madeline occupied herself with reading and needlework until Logan arrived home. He came into the parlor carrying the wintry scent from outside, his dark hair disordered and his cheeks slightly reddened from the cold. “Maddy,” he said, coming to stand by the settee.

Madeline tilted her head back to look at him, feeling as if she would drown in his fathomless blue eyes.

“Have you eaten?” Logan asked.

Madeline shook her head. “I was waiting for you.”

He extended a hand and helped her from the settee, his grasp warm and hard. “How was the afternoon with Julia?”

“We made some headway, I think. It's quite an undertaking, planning an event this large.”

He shrugged indifferently. “It's only a matter of hiring the right people.”

As they walked to the circular dining hall, Madeline wanted to slip her hand companionably over his arm, but thought better of it. So far Logan hadn't encouraged any overtures from her, and she thought it likely that he would rebuff her if she tried.

In the few days since their wedding, their relationship had been polite and somewhat strained. They discussed neutral subjects and chose their words carefully. There were no intimate glances, no casual kisses or caresses. It was only at night that the constraints melted away, when Logan would come to her bed and wordlessly remove her gown, and make love to her until she ached with the pleasure of it. Each morning he left for the theater before she awoke.

“Did rehearsal go well?” Madeline asked as he seated her at the table.

Logan amused her with an account of Arlyss Barry's latest feud with another actress who had upstaged her, and the dissatisfaction of a few actors regarding an agreement he had made with a rival theater. “The Daly has recently lost a pair of its major performers, so I've decided to lend them a few of my actors for their run of As You Like It. In return, we'll use two or three of their players for supporting roles in The Rose. Unfortunately, my actors are protesting the transfer. They consider themselves too good to perform at the Daly.”

“I don't blame them,” Madeline commented, watching from the corner of her eye as a pair of footmen brought in silver dishes and trays. “If I were an actor, I would much rather appear at the Capital.”

“Nevertheless, they'll do as I tell them.”

“But why enter into an agreement that will benefit the Daly far more than the Capital?”

“It's good for the profession as a whole. I don't intend to allow my sense of competition to harm the London stage—any stage, not just mine.”

“You're quite a statesman,” Madeline said with a sudden smile.

“I can afford to be.”

Expertly the footmen set the dishes before them and served tender slices of chicken bathed in cream-and-sherry sauce, vegetables that had been mixed with buttered breadcrumbs and molded into artful shapes, and pastry stuffed with truffles and eggs.