Page 22 of Because You're Mine
“It’s thanks enough for me to have a new project,” the elderly woman declared. “Lately there are few pursuits to keep me interested. Helping you attain your goal is quite an enjoyable hobby.” She paused and regarded Madeline speculatively. “Not that it’s any of my concern, child…but have you given a thought to afterward?”
“Afterward?”
“After you’ve succeeded in seducing Mr. Scott. I imagine you’ll have a delightful time with him…but you must be prepared for the moment when he desires the affair to end.”
Madeline nodded. “My family will take me in,” she replied. “They won’t be pleased by what I’ve done…but I’m prepared for that.”
“And seducing Mr. Scott is worth that?”
“Well…yes,” Madeline replied uncomfortably. She paused for a long moment. “I’m one of those people who was meant to have a very ordinary life. I have no special talent, no great beauty, nothing that distinguishes me from a hundred thousand other girls. But I can’t go through an entire lifetime without at least one night of magic.”
“Don’t expect ‘magic,’” Mrs. Florence counseled, her lined face touched with concern. “That’s a difficult order for any man to fill, Maddy, even a man like Mr. Scott. To put it crudely, two bodies in a bed can be a very nice experience…but ‘magic’ happens only once in a lifetime. If at all.”
Madeline approached Mr. Scott’s dressing room, carrying a stack of freshly washed and folded costumes that had been delivered from the laundry cart. In the mornings the dressing room was always empty, but to her surprise, she heard voices inside. The door was ajar, requiring only a nudge from her elbow to swing open with a quiet squeak. She saw in consternation that Mr. Scott was half-standing, half-leaning against the dressing table, absorbed in conversation with a female visitor. She was slender and elegant, with pale blond hair and attractive features. She wore a rich blue velvet walking dress with intricately pleated skirts. An apparently worldly woman, cool, confident of her place in the world…all the things Madeline was not.
Although it was hard to conceal her dismay and jealousy, Madeline managed to keep her expression blank as the pair glanced at her. “Mr. Scott,” she murmured, “I didn’t expect to find you here at this time of day—”
“I came here for privacy.” His tone was flat and dismissive.
“Yes, sir.” Flushing, Madeline set the stack of clothes on the chair in the corner. “I’ll return later to put these away.”
“Let the girl do her work,” the blond woman said lightly, taking no more notice of Madeline than she would a servant. “I must be off anyway, and I’ve no desire to interfere with the running of your theater.”
Logan smiled, pushing away from the table and touching her elbow lightly. The gesture was small, but to Madeline’s growing discomfort, it seemed to contain an inference of close and intimate friendship.
“Any interference from you is entirely welcome, milady.”
The woman’s ungloved hand smoothed over the linen that covered his forearm. “Then you shall have more of it.”
“I hope so.” Their gazes held for several seconds.
Madeline busied herself with the clothes, taking them to the armoire and hanging them methodically. She felt betrayed, although she had no right. After all, Mr. Scott was free to pursue anyone he desired…But why couldn’t it have been me? she thought, seething inwardly.
Mr. Scott murmured a soft question, and the woman smiled and shook her head as she replied. “In the interest of discretion, I’ll see myself out.” Staring into his eyes, she pulled on her gloves and adjusted each finger precisely. Mr. Scott swung a fur-trimmed cloak over the lady’s narrow shoulders, taking care to fasten it snugly at her throat to ward off the winter wind. The woman slipped past the door, leaving behind a delicate flowery scent that lingered in the air.
The dressing room was silent. Mr. Scott stared contemplatively at the door while Madeline finished hanging the costumes in the armoire. She closed the cabinet door a little too firmly, causing Mr. Scott to turn toward her, his dark brow arched inquiringly.
“She wears a rather strong perfume,” Madeline remarked, waving one hand about as if to dispel a noxious odor.
“I thought it rather pleasant,” Mr. Scott replied, his gaze following her intently as she moved about the room, rearranging the articles on his dressing table, straightening the chair against the wall, picking up a small coin from the floor.
Although Madeline tried to be silent, she couldn’t prevent the impulsive question that sprang from her lips. “Is she your paramour?”
Mr. Scott’s face was smooth and implacable. “My private life isn’t open for discussion.”
“She was wearing a wedding ring.”
For some reason her disapproving expression seemed to amuse him. “It means nothing,” he informed her dryly. “She and her husband have a well-known understanding.”
Madeline puzzled briefly over his meaning. “You’re saying that he wouldn’t mind if his wife…and you…he wouldn’t object?”
“Not as long as she’s discreet.”
“How very odd.”
“Hardly. Many wives of the upper classes are allowed to have ‘friendships’ outside their marriages. It keeps them from complaining about their husbands’ infidelities.”
“And it doesn’t bother you, the idea of making love to another man’s wife?” Madeline dared to ask.
