Because You're Mine (Capital Theatre #2)(88)

Logan looked at him sharply, searching for some hidden meaning to the comment, but Andrew's blue eyes were devoid of guile. “I've never claimed to be anything but bourgeois,” Logan replied. “And one look at my wife is explanation enough.”

“I won't dispute that. After tonight, every amateur poet in London will be laboring on an ode to her. The face of an angel, the hint of scandal about your hasty nuptials…she has everything necessary to drive the public wild with curiosity.”

“And to drive me insane,” Logan muttered, making his friend chuckle.

“You've done well for yourself, Jimmy,” Andrew said, sipping from a crystal wine glass. Clearly it was not his first drink of the evening, nor would it be his last. “A most enviable life. Wealth, a fine home, a beautiful young wife—and you started out with nothing. Whereas I was given every advantage: a name, a fortune, land—and I've squandered most of it. Lately my chief occupation has been waiting for the old man to die and leave me with a nicely endowed title. With my unfortunate luck, he'll hang on 'til I'm too damned old to enjoy any of it.”

Logan arched his brow, surprised by the touch of bitterness in Andrew's tone. “What is the problem, Andrew?” he asked, in the blunt manner he would address a younger brother.

Andrew hesitated, and laughed. “Don't worry about me—just enjoy your bloody wonderful life and your little honeypot of a wife.”

Logan stared at him with a mixture of exasperation and concern. Obviously Andrew was in trouble again. The last thing Logan wanted to do tonight was wrest a confession from Andrew and solve his problems once again. However, it was an impulse he had never been—and would never be—free of, especially now that he knew about their secret kinship.

Casting a last longing glance at Madeline, Logan sighed inwardly and turned his full attention to Andrew. “I've been saving a box of exceptional cigars,” he said casually. “This seems like an occasion to enjoy them. Care to have a smoke?”

Andrew's moodiness seemed to ease. “Yes, bring them to the billiards room, and we'll visit with some of the fellows.”

Logan made his way out of the ballroom, stopping several times to converse with clusters of guests who beckoned to him. As he finally reached the door, he noticed Madeline's sister Justine and her husband, Lord Bagworth. They appeared to be having some kind of spat, edging to the corner of the room and talking tensely. Justine's eyes were narrowed with fury.

Logan exited the ballroom, suppressing a pitying grin. He suspected that Justine must lead Bagworth on a merry dance. As the spoiled beauty of the Matthews family, Justine appeared to insist on being the center of attention at all times. The Matthewses had done no service to their eldest daughter by pampering and spoiling her to the exclusion of their other two children. Having made Justine's acquaintance, Logan wondered how it was that Madeline could have been so overlooked. An ironic smile touched his lips, and he shook his head as he went to the library in search of his private stock of cigars.

Pleading for respite from the dancing, Madeline extricated herself from the crowd of gentlemen surrounding her. She caught sight of her brother-in-law, Lord Bagworth, standing near the long windows that lined the room. He didn't seem to notice her approach, his attention focused on the formal garden outside, his round face shadowed with a frown. He was a kind, pleasant-looking gentleman, though short in stature and not possessed of an imposing physique.

“Mrs. Scott,” Lord Bagworth said, smiling as he took her hand and bowed over it. “Congratulations on a splendid evening. I must say I've never seen you look more lovely.”

“Thank you, my lord. I hope you and my sister are enjoying yourselves.”

“Indeed,” Bagworth said automatically, though his expression remained troubled. He paused for a long time, his thoughtful brown eyes staring into hers. “I must admit,” he said slowly, “that to my regret, your sister and I have just had a bit of a quarrel.”

Puzzled as to why he would make such a confession, Madeline frowned. “My lord…is there anything I can do?”

“Perhaps there is.” Uneasily he cupped one of his hands over the other and twisted them together. “I'm afraid, Mrs. Scott, that Justine is somewhat distressed by your success this evening.”

“By my—” Madeline said in astonishment. It was inconceivable that Justine should be jealous of her. Justine had always been the most beautiful, admired, and sought-after sister. “I'm sure I don't understand why, my lord.”

He looked distinctly embarrassed. “As we both are aware, Justine is possessed of a rather mercurial nature. She seems to fear that your triumph tonight will somehow detract from her accomplishments.”

“But that could never be true,” Madeline protested.

“Nevertheless, in her unhappiness I fear she may have taken it in mind to do something…drastic.”

“Such as?”

Lord Bagworth cast a worried glance around the room. “Where is your husband, Mrs. Scott?”

Madeline's eyes widened. What could Logan have to do with this? Could it be that Justine, in a fit of envy, would actually try to throw herself at Logan, merely to assure herself of her own attractiveness? “Are you suggesting that I go in search of him?”

“I think that is an excellent idea,” Lord Bagworth replied at once.