Page 55 of Because You're Mine
“Ask me anything you like,” she said calmly.
Folding his arms over his chest, Logan leaned back against the closed door. “All right. Tell me why I’ve never laid eyes on you before…Grandmother.”
“For a long time I didn’t know of your existence. Your father claimed that you had died along with your mother. He kept you a secret and gave you to the Jennings to raise. Your father and I have always despised each other, and he wanted to make certain I had no influence on you. I’m certain he feared that if you knew me, you might be lured into the theater, and he wished to prevent that at all cost. Your mother was an actress, you see.”
Mrs. Florence paused, and a grim smile crossed her face. “My pleasure in your success is indescribable, dear boy. In a way, it’s a perfect revenge. After all your father did to prevent it, you still found your way to the theater…and you’ve become one of the greatest actors of your time.”
Logan’s arms unfolded, and he pushed away from the doorjamb. Although he still didn’t believe a word she said, he felt the sudden need for a drink. He went to the battered wooden cabinet in the corner and rummaged in a drawer until he located a bottle of brandy.
“What an excellent idea,” came the elderly woman’s voice behind him. “A drop of spirits would take the chill from my bones.”
Logan’s mouth twisted, and he managed to locate a clean glass. He poured a brandy, brought it to her, and took a swig directly from the bottle. The comforting glow spread down his throat and into his chest. “Go on,” he said gruffly. “I may as well hear the end of your entertaining story. How exactly did you come to the conclusion that I was your daughter’s long-lost bastard?”
She shot him a cold look for his choice of words, but continued calmly. “I didn’t suspect anything until I saw you on stage, when you were about twenty or so. I was stunned by your remarkable resemblance to my daughter. When I began asking questions about your background, my suspicions were further aroused. I went to your father and accused him of keeping the knowledge of your existence from me. He admitted everything. By then, he didn’t care if I knew about you or not. You had already made the decision to become an actor, and there was nothing he could do to reverse it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You had no need of me then,” Mrs. Florence replied. “You had a family, and you did not doubt your identity as their son. I saw no reason to put you through turmoil, and especially not to do something that might affect your acting career.” She smiled at him over the rim of her glass and took another sip of brandy. “I always kept abreast of your activities through Julia. Privately I’ve worried over you, taken pride in your success, and entertained the same hopes for you that any grandmother would have.”
“Did you ever tell Julia?”
“No,” she said immediately. “It wasn’t necessary for her to know. I believe the only people who are aware of your true identity are me, the Jennings, and of course your father.”
Logan smiled with pure sarcasm. “I can’t wait to find out who he’s supposed to be.”
“Don’t you know?” she returned softly. “I should think you’d have guessed by now. You’re rather like him in some ways.” Her voice remained gentle in the face of his hostility. “It’s the Earl of Rochester, dear boy. That’s why you spent your childhood on his estate, living in the shadow of his mansion. If you don’t believe what I’ve told you, go to Rochester and ask him.”
Logan turned away from her, stumbling against the dressing-table chair. Clumsily he set the bottle of brandy on the table and braced his hands on the flat surface. Rochester, his father…the idea was obscene.
It couldn’t be true. If it were, then Andrew was his half brother. Even Rochester couldn’t be that cruel, watching his two sons grow up side by side, never allowing them to know they were related. One brought up with wealth, luxury, and privilege, the other with hunger and abuse. “It couldn’t be…” Logan was unaware that he had spoken until Mrs. Florence, answered.
“It’s the truth, dear boy. I’m sorry if I’ve destroyed your illusions. I only hope that the Jennings were good parents to you. At the very least, Rochester cared enough to ensure that you lived close by him.”
Bitterness welled up in his throat until he nearly choked. All of a sudden he wanted to tell her what kind of life it had been, the fear and pain he had suffered at the hands of Paul Jennings, the indifference of his so-called mother. And Rochester had been aware of all of it. Logan kept his mouth shut, gritting his teeth with the effort. Unfortunately, it seemed that he wasn’t able to keep all his feelings hidden.
“Well,” Mrs. Florence said, staring at him, “I can see that you had far from a pleasant time of it. That’s partly my fault. I should never have taken Rochester at face value—I should have demanded proof that you had died. I was too absorbed in my grief over Elizabeth’s death to pursue the issue.”
Logan’s head was spinning. He fumbled for a chair and lowered himself into it. He heard a knocking at the door and the voice of an employee who had come to collect his costume for washing and mending. “I’m busy,” he said in response. “Come back later.”
“Mr. Scott, there are some admirers who wish to meet you—”
“I’ll kill the first person who comes through that door. Leave me in peace.”
“Yes, Mr. Scott.” The employee left, and the dressing room was silent once more.
“Julia was right about you,” Mrs. Florence finally remarked, finishing her brandy. “She once told me that you are not a happy man. That’s one of the reasons I encouraged Madeline to seduce you.” She met his stunned, accusing glare without flinching. “Yes, I knew about her scheme, though I wasn’t aware of her precise reasons for it. I wanted you to have her. I thought you might fall in love with her—I fail to see how the most hardened man could resist her. I thought a girl like Madeline would make you happy.”
“Damn you for meddling in my life!” he said savagely.
Mrs. Florence appeared to be unimpressed by his fury. “Save your passion for the stage,” she advised. “I may have made a mistake, but all your snarling and snapping won’t change anything.”
Somehow he managed to gain control of his temper. “Why now?” he asked through his teeth. “If anything you’ve said is true—and I don’t believe a word of it—why did you come to me now?”
She gave him a smile that held more than a hint of challenge. “History has a way of repeating itself. I find it ironic that you’re about to behave exactly as your father did and condemn your child to the same life you had, with no one to protect him or provide for his needs. I thought I should at least make you aware of the truth about your past, and allow you the chance to do the honorable thing by Maddy.”
“And if I don’t?” he sneered, a flush creeping over his face. “There’s not much you can do about it, is there?”
“If you won’t take Maddy in, I will. I have the means to ensure that she and her child will lead a comfortable life. That baby is my great-grandchild, and I will do everything in my power to help him…or her.”
