Because You're Mine (Capital Theatre #2)(95)

Rochester's sharp gaze rested on her, and he seemed to detect the falsehood, but he smiled in grudging admiration. “My son is fortunate in his choice of a wife.”

“Your son?” Madeline repeated. “I was under the impression that you had declined to acknowledge him.”

“That is something I intend to discuss with him.”

Before Madeline could question him further, they heard someone approaching, and they turned in unison. Logan's face was emotionless as he came to stand beside Madeline, his cold blue eyes fastened on the elderly man.

Logan seemed to have benefitted from the long night's sleep. His hair was still damp from a fresh washing, his face gleamed from a shave, and he was dressed in a white shirt, dark trousers, and a patterned green-and-gray vest. In spite of his well-groomed appearance, there were shadows beneath his eyes and a pallor beneath his tan.

He spoke to Rochester in a dry monotone. “I can't imagine what brings you here.”

“You're all I have left,” Rochester said simply.

A venomous smile touched Logan's mouth. “I hope to hell you're not suggesting that I serve as a second-rate replacement for Andrew?”

The elderly man flinched visibly. “I made many mistakes with Andrew—I won't deny it. Perhaps I wasn't an ideal parent—”

'Perhaps?” Logan repeated with a harsh laugh.

“—but I did have hopes for Andrew. Plans for him. I…”Rochester swallowed hard and finished with difficulty. “…I did love him, no matter what you may think.”

“You might have told him,” Logan muttered.

Rochester shook his head as if the conversation were becoming too painful, yet he was driven to continue. “I had high expectations for Andrew. His mother was a woman of refinement, with a delicate nature and the bluest of blood. I chose her to ensure that my son would have impeccable lineage.”

“Unlike your first one,” Logan said.

“Yes,” Rochester admitted readily. “You didn't fit in with my plans. I convinced myself that it was best if I set you aside and started afresh. I intended that my son—the legitimate one—should have the best of everything. I gave him a fortune, the best schools, entry to the highest social circles. There was no reason Andrew shouldn't have been a great success…but he failed miserably at everything he attempted. No discipline, no ambition, no talent, no interest in anything but drinking and gambling. Whereas you…” He cracked an ironic laugh. “I gave you nothing. Your bloodlines are those of a mongrel. Yet somehow you managed to amass a fortune and establish a place for yourself in society. You've even managed to marry the kind of woman Andrew should have had.”

Logan regarded him sardonically. “Tell me what you want, Rochester; then leave.”

“Very well. I want to end the war between us.”

“There is no war,” Logan said flatly. “Now that Andrew is gone, I don't give a damn about what happens to you. You'll have nothing to do with me, my wife, or my children. As far as I'm concerned, you don't exist.”

The earl seemed unsurprised by Logan's coldness. “That is, of course, your decision. But there is much I could do for your family if you would allow it. To begin with, I could use my influence to have you created a peer, especially in light of the property and land you have amassed. And although there are a few restrictions on what I am able to bequeath to illegitimate issue, there is still a generous patrimony I can leave you.”

“I don't want a shilling of your money. It should have been Andrew's.”

“Then don't accept it for yourself. However, you might consider your children's interests. I want to make them my heirs. Would you deny them their birthright?”

“I won't take—” Logan began, but the earl interrupted.

“I've never asked you for anything until now. All I want is for you to consider what I've said. You needn't give me an answer right away. These days it seems I have nothing to do but wait.”

“You'll wait a long time,” Logan said grimly.

Rochester smiled in bitter understanding. “Of course. I'm aware of how stubborn you are.”

Logan was silent, watching with a granite-hard face as Rochester bid them good-bye and took his leave.

Unfortunately, either Rochester or one of his associates must have confided the secret of Logan's parentage to someone, for in the space of a few days, the news was all over London. Their home was beseiged with callers and letters, all inquiring if it was true, while the Capital was also inundated.

Logan's performances, always heavily attended, became so popular that there were wild fights over tickets outside the theater. It seemed that the public was fascinated by the romantic notion of a celebrated commoner discovering that he was actually the by-blow of a wealthy aristocrat. The peerage was also shocked and enthralled with every detail of the scandalous story.

Logan had become the most talked-about figure in London, a position he neither wanted nor enjoyed. He grieved over Andrew's death, working himself to exhaustion each day, then taking solace in Madeline's arms at night. His lovemaking was different than before—gentle and prolonged, as if he wanted to lose himself, stay inside her forever. He wasn't satisfied until he had brought them both to piercing ecstasy that left them limp and satiated.