Lucky Logan Finds Love by Barbara Cartland Page A

real bedroom.
    There was a huge bed draped with pink silk and white muslin curtains, all of which were decorated with frills, ribbon and bows and there were also bunches of silk roses.
    The bed cover matched them and again there were the bows, ribbons, and flowers.
    The initial ‘Y’ in the centre sparkled with diamante.
    The candelabra beside the bed were supported by gold cupids and they had diamante glittering on their heads and on their loincloths.
    The mirror on the dressing table was surmounted with cupids holding wreaths of flowers and most of the furniture in the room was of carved wood brilliantly gilded.
    Besides this there was a profusion of flowers. Some were in vases, others were in baskets on the floor.
    As she looked at them, Belinda realised that there had also been an enormous amount of flowers in the room downstairs. She had, however, been too overcome by the appearance of
Madame
Yvonne to notice them at first.
    Now she looked round the room, thinking that her hostess must have copied it straight from a scene at the
Drury Lane Theatre.
    Lottie followed the direction of her eyes.
    “Pretty, ain’t it?” she remarked. “And a nice job I’ve got keepin’ it clean and tidy wiv gentlemen comin’ in at all hours of the night, an’ not wantin’ to move out in the mornin’!”
    For a moment Belinda wanted to question what she was saying.
    Then she blushed and said quickly,
    “Please may I wash my hands?”
    “Course you can, miss, and we’re very up to date. Like the Frenchies, it’s all out of sight.”
    She opened a door as she spoke.
    Belinda saw there was a washstand on which there was a very pretty china basin and ewer and there was also a profusion of bottles of every sort and description.
    She guessed that most of these contained perfume, others doubtless held what Madame Yvonne used on her face.
    Lottie poured out some water that was still warm from a brass can into the basin.
    Then she found a clean face flannel and Belinda took off her hat and washed her face and hands.
    It had been very dusty on the roads and without asking, Lottie brushed down her clothes as well as her hat.
    “Thank you,” Belinda said, “and would it be possible for me to have a glass of water to drink?”
    “’Course!” Lottie answered, pouring some out from an elaborate crystal jug. “And there’s coffee for you downstairs, or p’raps you’d rather ’ave champagne?”
    “Thank you,” Belinda replied, “but I would rather have coffee.”
    She went back into the bedroom and put on her hat again.
    She was thinking as she did so that she had never seen so many things on a dressing table before. There were not only more bottles of scent, but trinkets of every sort and description.
    There was also a stack of newspaper cuttings.
    She thought they must be reviews of
Madame
Yvonne’s performances in the theatre, but she recognised, however, that it would be a mistake to ask questions.
    Only when she had tidied herself did she say to Lottie, who was moving about the bedroom,
    “I think I had better go downstairs now. I have an appointment to keep and I must not be late.”
    “I ’opes ’e’s tall, dark, and ’andsome,” Lottie remarked cheekily.
    For a moment Belinda did not understand what she insinuated.
    Then she replied quickly,
    “It is a
business
appointment.”
    “Oh, yeah,” Lottie said. “We all ’as them! With looks like yours, you should be ’avin’ a bit of fun.”
    She opened the door before she added,
    “You never wants to miss a chance, miss, and they don’t always turn up just when we wants ’em.”
    Belinda walked out into the corridor.
    “Thank you, thank you very much,” she mumbled and hurried down the stairs.
    As she did so, she realised that the carpet over them was a vivid red. It matched the curtains that covered the windows on either side of the front door.
    Madame
Yvonne, she thought, certainly liked having everything as brilliant as possible. She knew her mother would