Lucky Logan Finds Love by Barbara Cartland

’im!”
    D’Arcy Rowland walked into the room ahead of his stepdaughter.
    A woman was sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace and Belinda stared at her in astonishment.
    Although it was late in the morning, she was still wearing a garment that was elaborate but quite obviously a dressing gown.
    As she moved, Belinda saw that she was still wearing a nightgown beneath it. Her face was painted and her long eyelashes were mascaraed and her red hair was caught back in a bow at the nape of her neck.
    She gave a cry of delight as soon as they entered the room.
    Jumping to her feet, she ran towards D’Arcy Rowland.
    “How can you have neglected me for so long?” she complained. “Until your message came saying you would call here this morning, I thought you must have died!”
    “I very nearly have,” D’Arcy replied.
    As he spoke, he put his arm around the woman and kissed her cheek.
    She touched his face affectionately with her hand.
    “Well, you’re here now,” she said, “and – who is this?”
    There was a suspicious query in her voice as she looked at Belinda.
    “This is my stepdaughter about whom I told you in my note,” D’Arcy Rowland replied.
    “Stepdaughter?” the woman queried. “She looks suspiciously pretty to be that sort of relation to
you
!”
    “Nevertheless, it happens to be true,” D’Arcy Rowland answered. “Let me introduce you. Belinda – this is a very famous and glamorous lady who entrances large audiences at the
Drury Lane Theatre
every night.”
    He paused a moment before he added,
    “One day I must take you to see her. Her name is
Madame
Yvonne to you as well as to everybody else in London.”
    Madame
Yvonne laughed.
    “If your stepdaughter can sit in the stalls, then why have you not been to see me? I couldn’t believe you would disappear like that!”
    “It’s a long story,” D’Arcy Rowland replied, “and what I would like to suggest, Yvonne, is that Belinda goes upstairs and washes away the dust while you give me a glass of champagne.”
    “It’s waiting for you, you naughty boy!”
Madame
Yvonne said. “And Jim’ll take that pretty creature up to Lottie.”
    She glanced across the room as she spoke.
    It was then that Belinda realised that the servant in his flamboyant livery was still standing by the door.
    It was obvious he had been listening to every word of the conversation.
    “I’ll look after the young lady,” he promised.
    Belinda realised that neither her stepfather nor
Madame
Yvonne were paying her any further attention.
    She joined Jim at the door.
    They walked out into the hall and he led her to the foot of the stairs.
    “I’d no idea ’is Nibs ’as a stepdaughter,” he said conversationally. “I suspect ’e keeps quiet about it, as it’d make ’im seem old to ’ave one!”
    Belinda did not know how she should reply to this.
    Jim was moving quickly up the stairs and she followed behind him and when they reached the landing, he shouted at the top of his voice,
    “Lottie! Where are you, Lottie?”
    For a moment there was no reply and he moved farther along the corridor.
    Then out through a door came a maid elegantly dressed and wearing a muslin cap trimmed with lace.
    She wore a gown which fitted her so tightly that it showed off the curves of her breasts and over it there was a saucy little apron, also trimmed, like her cap, with lace.
    “What d’you want?” she demanded.
    Then, when she saw Belinda, she obviously prevented herself from saying anything further.
    “We’ve got a visitor,” Jim said, “and the young lady’d like to clean ’erself up. I suppose you’d look after ’er.”
    “’Course I will,” Lottie agreed. “Come this way, miss. I’ve just finished tidyin’ up the room.”
    She went back through the door from which she had emerged.
    Belinda followed her and suppressed a gasp of astonishment.
    Never had she imagined that any room could look so fantastic.
    It was as if it were part of a stage set rather than a