Lucky Logan Finds Love by Barbara Cartland Page B

have thought the house was tawdry and vulgar. She was very glad it was not here that she would have to work as a reader.
    She did not want to think about the innuendos Lottie had made.
    Jim was waiting for her by the door of the drawing room.
    “Feelin’ better now, are you, miss?” he asked. “I’ve brought your coffee as ’is Nibs said, but if you asks me, a drop of fizzy’d make you feel real better.”
    He opened the drawing room door as he spoke. As Belinda entered, she saw her stepfather move quickly away from
Madame
Yvonne.
    They were standing in front of the fireplace.
    She realised that he must have been kissing her and felt for a moment a sense of disgust.
    How dare her stepfather kiss a woman like this actress when he was still in mourning for her mother!
    Then she remembered how he had told her that he had tried in every way he possibly could to forget her mother, but had failed.
    She supposed, therefore, that
Madame
Yvonne was one of the failures.
    Yet it did not appear so at the moment.
    It was, however, with a great effort at composure that she walked across the room to where her stepfather and
Madame
Yvonne were standing.
    As she reached them,
Madame
Yvonne sat down on the sofa, saying,
    “Wow. Here she is – and looking even prettier than when she arrived. Are you sure, D’Arcy, that you tell the truth when you say she’s your stepdaughter?”
    “Now, would I lie to you?” D’Arcy Rowland asked in his most beguiling voice. “And would I be so foolish as to bring anyone here who could in any way cause you any displeasure?”
    “You’d do anything if it suited you,”
Madame
Yvonne replied. “But what are you going to do with this young woman now that you have brought her to London? There is no place for her at the theatre – I can tell you that!”
    “She has no wish to go on the stage,” D’Arcy replied quickly. “She has an appointment with a lady who requires a reader and Belinda is proficient in your language and many others besides.”
    “
My
language?”
Madame
Yvonne exclaimed. “We will see about that!”
    She turned towards Belinda and spoke with the rapidity characteristic of the French.
    She reeled off a dozen questions, asking her where she came from, how old she was and where she was going.
    She was obviously testing her to see whether what D’Arcy Rowland had told her was true or false.
    Without any hesitation, Belinda replied just as quickly as
Madame
Yvonne had spoken.
    She spoke in perfect French with an obvious Parisian accent.
    It banished the suspicion from
Madame
Yvonne’s eyes.
    When she finished speaking,
Madame
Yvonne clapped her hands.
    “Tres bien, Mademoiselle!”
she approved.
    She turned to D’Arcy Rowland.
    “All right, D’Arcy,” she admitted, “I believe you!”
    “And now,” he said with a certain amount of complacency in his voice, “we must leave you. But I will return once I have dropped Belinda off at her destination.”
    “You promise that?”
Madame
Yvonne asked.
    “I promise!” D’Arcy Roland replied. “And thank you for the champagne.”
    He lifted
Madame’s
hand as he spoke and actually kissed it.
    Belinda was watching him.
    “
Déjeuner
will be ready when you return,”
Madame
Yvonne murmured, “but don’t be too long. You know I have to be at the theatre by six o’clock.”
    “I shall be as quick as I can,” D’Arcy promised.
    He would have turned away, but
Madame
Yvonne caught hold of his hand.
    “I have missed you,
mon cher,
” she said in a low voice.
    Because she felt embarrassed, Belinda walked away towards the door and, as she reached it, her stepfather hurried after her to pull it open.
    “Come along,” he said sharply. “You must not be late for your appointment.”
    They climbed into the chaise and only as they drove off did D’Arcy Rowland say,
    “There was nowhere else I could take you. For, as you well know, we cannot afford to book into a hotel.”
    Belinda knew he was trying to apologise and she