They went into the drawing room, where coffee was served and Marcus Logan drank a small brandy.
Then Lady Logan stated,
“I must go to bed, and so must you, dearest. I am sure you have had very little sleep in the past few days.”
“That is true,” he agreed. “So to please you, Mama, I will go to bed now and leave all the work that is waiting for me until tomorrow.”
“That is very sensible,” Lady Logan answered.
“I shall have to go out early tomorrow morning,” he went on, “before you are called, so do not expect to see me again before teatime.”
Belinda felt herself stiffen.
She was quite sure that Marcus Logan was planning to visit the City.
He would start forming a Company, the shares of which would instantly be bought up by all his admirers.
‘I have to find out exactly where the mine or whatever it may be, is,’ she told herself.
All three walked slowly from the drawing room. Lady Logan was leaning on her son’s arm.
When they reached the hall, Marcus Logan instructed the footman on duty,
“I am not going out again tonight, Henry, lock up and go to bed.”
“Very good, my Lord,” the footman replied.
“And tell Dawson I shall want breakfast at eight-thirty.”
“I’ll tell him, my Lord.”
Marcus Logan escorted his mother up the stairs and Belinda followed them.
Her bedroom was reached first and Lady Logan called out,
“Goodnight, Miss Brown. Sleep well and it is delightful having you here with me.”
Belinda curtsied.
“Thank you, my Lady,” she answered. “It has been a very happy and exciting day for me.”
Marcus Logan wished her goodnight too.
Belinda smiled at him as she went into her bedroom, knowing that they would walk on down the corridor, reaching first Lady Logan’s room.
At the far end was the Master suite which would be occupied by her son.
Belinda had been planning as they came up the stairs.
When everybody was asleep, she decided she would go down to the library and see what was on Marcus Logan’s desk, although she could not believe that he would leave any evidence of his new discovery lying about.
Yet, unless her stepfather was to go to prison, she was compelled to find out and it was no less important for her, unless she was to lose everything she possessed.
She had to discover in which part of Russia Marcus Logan’s latest discovery lay.
When she thought of the immensity of the country, she recognised that her information had to be accurate.
She decided not to undress.
However, she had been in her bedroom for only a few minutes when the maid who was looking after her came in.
There was nothing Belinda could do, therefore, but allow her to hang up the gown she had been wearing.
Then she put on a nightgown and climbed into bed.
“What time’d you like breakfast, miss?” the maid enquired. “There’ll be no ’urry ’cos ’er Ladyship seldom wakes afore ten o’clock.”
Belinda thought it would seem pushy if she went downstairs to have breakfast with Lord Logan.
“Perhaps I could have my breakfast up here,” she replied to the maid, “at nine o’clock, if that is not too late.”
“No, course it’s not, miss, I ’opes you sleep well.”
The maid left the room and Belinda lay back against the pillows.
She knew she had to wait until the house was silent before she went downstairs, but she was afraid of going to sleep.
After a little while she got out of bed and pulled back the curtains.
It was a clear night. The sky was ablaze with stars and the moon was rising above the trees.
It all looked very beautiful.
She only wished there was not a hard stone in her breast because she was afraid of what she had to do and because she hated deceiving the two people who had been so kind to her all evening.
‘I know it is – wrong, Mama,’ she said to her mother while looking up at the stars, ‘but how – can I let Step-Papa go to – prison?’
She thought, as she had thought before, that it was something he would never do.
Somehow she had to save him.
Finally she went back to bed, lit a candle, and read one of her father’s books that she had brought with her.
It was one he had translated from a manuscript that he had obtained from an ancient Monastery in Tibet. It was on Buddhist philosophy.
Belinda tried to concentrate on the wise words that had inspired the followers of Buddha.
But it was very difficult.
Finally, when the clock told her it was nearly midnight, she was certain that everyone in the house would be asleep.
The servants’ accommodations were in the other wing and there was no likelihood of their seeing her go down the stairs.
She put on her dressing gown that was made of satin and trimmed with little frills of lace.
She was, however, not thinking of her appearance as she pushed back her hair from her forehead and then very very cautiously she opened her door.
There were, as she expected, lights in the sconces on the walls in the corridor and also in the hall. Walking silently in her heelless slippers, Belinda tiptoed along the corridor that led to the library.
She opened the door.
To her relief, she found that the servants had not extinguished the candles that stood on the mantelpiece. They were burning brightly, but the rest of the room was in darkness.
She could see clearly a large pile of papers on the Regency desk and she went to the mantelpiece to pick up one of the candles.
Just as her hand was about to touch it, she heard an unexpected noise that made her start.
She thought for a moment that somebody was coming into the room and so she looked quickly at the door behind her.
Then she was aware that the noise was coming from one of the windows.
It was not very loud.
Yet she had an undeniable feeling that somebody was attempting to open it.
The windows as designed by Nash should have been long with square panes of glass, but in the library they had been removed and replaced by casements.
These opened outwards and had smaller panes that were not really in keeping with the period.
Belinda had noticed this when she had first come to the library and she had wondered why Marcus Logan did not change them back to the original design.
Now, undoubtedly, somebody was attempting to force the catch and open a window.
Belinda thought it must be burglars and she wondered how she could obtain help.
Then she was afraid that if she ran towards the door of the library, she would be seen.
As if she was being helped by what her father had said was a Power greater than himself, she remembered what Marcus Logan had said.
Nash had designed this house so that every room communicated with the next and she knew then that on the far side of the fireplace there would be a door.
Because she was frightened, she ran to the door.
Fumbling for the handle, she opened it and went into the adjoining room.
As she did so, there was a sharp but not particularly loud crash.
Whoever had been trying to open the window had clearly succeeded.
Belinda, safely behind the door, did not run straight for help. She thought she would first find out if she was right in thinking it was burglars.
Perhaps, instead, it was one of the servants who, coming back late, had found the doors locked.
She peeped through the crack of the door she had not fully closed.
Climbing over the windowsill was a man.
He was followed by another, and she knew at once that they were burglars, certainly not anyone belonging to the household.
The first man was large and rough-looking. He wore a handkerchief partly con
cealing his chin. Belinda guessed it could be pulled up over his nose so that only his eyes were left uncovered.
By the light from the candles she could see that the man who had followed him looked very different.
He was thin and his face was decidedly foreign.
She heard him say in a voice she could only just hear,
“Wait a moment! It’d be a mistake to be too hasty.”
He spoke with a strong accent and, as he turned back towards the window, Belinda was sure that he was Russian.
Now he was speaking to somebody outside. Although she could not hear what he said, she thought that two men answered him.
He then walked back to the first man, who was standing looking around him.
“Now you understand,” he said forcefully but in a low voice, “that you must not kill him until we have learnt what we want to know. And don’t speak, for voices carry. Just make him incapable of calling for help till we get him into the carriage.”
“I understands,” the big man replied. He was obviously English. “You tells me this afore and I says I wouldn’t kill ’im.”
“You’d better not!” the Russian said. “But you don’t know your own strength. I’ll go first. I know the way.”
They walked towards the door.
It was then Belinda realised the significance of what she had overheard.
Quickly she moved away from the door she had been listening behind and into the next room.
To her relief, it was not in darkness.
The curtains were not drawn and the windows were covered only by pale-coloured Holland blinds. She could see her way between the pieces of furniture.
Opening a connecting door with the next room, she reached another door that opened into the hall.
She had been terrified in case the men had got there before her.
As she sped up the stairs, she thought she could hear them moving slowly and very carefully so that their footsteps would not be heard.
She reached the landing.
Running faster than she had ever run in her life, she opened the door of the Master suite at the far end of the corridor.
It was hot and Marcus Logan had gone to sleep with the curtains drawn back and the windows open.
She could see him clearly lying in a huge four-poster bed draped with velvet curtains.
He was fast asleep.
She was breathless as she touched his shoulder, crying,
“Wake up! Wake up!”
Marcus Logan awoke instantly as a man would who was used to danger.
“What is it? What is happening?” he asked.
Belinda replied in a low voice,
“There are – two men – coming up the stairs to k-kill you!” she said breathlessly. “One is English – and the other, I am sure – is Russian.”
Marcus Logan did not ask questions.
He merely leapt out of bed with the swiftness of an athlete.
He thrust one of his pillows under the bedclothes. Then he started to put on a dark robe that his valet had left lying over a chair.
“Get behind the bed curtains!” he whispered to Belinda.
She obeyed him and walking quickly round the bed, she slipped behind the thick velvet curtains on the other side of it.
From there she looked back at him.
She thought he would be taking a revolver out of a drawer, but to her surprise and consternation he bent down to pick up a heavy poker.
It was lying beside a highly polished shovel and some tongs in the fireplace.
Belinda felt that such an ordinary weapon would not be enough against the Russian, as she suspected from the way he had spoken that he would carry a pistol or a sharp dagger.
‘How can he be so foolish?’ she asked and wanted desperately to beg him to protect himself better.
She knew, however, that by this time his two attackers would have reached the top of the stairs and would be coming down the corridor.
As the Russian had said, voices carry a long way at night and she realised that she must say nothing.
She was trembling, and her hands holding on to the curtains were clenched because she was so frightened.
Then, almost as if her father was beside her, she started to pray.
It was a frantic prayer that Marcus Logan would be given the strength to overpower the men.
As she prayed, she had a sudden strange feeling that Marcus Logan was praying too.
He was using the Power that helped him, just as her father had done when he was in danger.
Then slowly, very slowly, the door opened.
Belinda dared not look directly at it.
By peeping from behind the curtains, she could see the Russian peer into the room.
There was complete silence.
Belinda guessed that thinking Marcus Logan was asleep, the Russian was changing places with the big strong Englishman.
He was to go in first and it was he who was to render Lord Logan unconscious.
If he had been lying there as she had found him, he would probably have received a violent blow on the head.
He would have known nothing more until he regained consciousness.
Then he would have found himself a prisoner in the carriage that was waiting for him outside.
Slowly the Englishman took a step forward into the room.
Marcus Logan, who was standing behind the door, did not move.
It was with the greatest difficulty that Belinda did not scream at him.
She could not understand why he was letting the man get so far.
The Englishman reached the bed and looked down at what looked like a body under the bedclothes.
It was then that the heavy brass top of the poker caught him a violent blow on the back of his head. The big man fell forward without a sound.
Even as he did so, Marcus Logan swept round the open door and punched the Russian with all his strength.
He struck him violently on the point of his chin with the expertise of a pugilist.
It sent the man crashing onto the floor, completely unconscious.
Throwing aside the poker, Marcus Logan pulled the hands of the unconscious Englishman behind his back.
“Quickly!” he called to Belinda. “The ropes that pull back the window curtains!”
She ran to the window to obey him and handed him first one rope and then another.
He tied the hands of the Englishman together behind his back, then his ankles.
He then turned to the Russian.
Belinda took the ropes from the bed curtains, which, like those from the window, were of heavy velvet.
Having secured the two men, Lord Logan went to one of the drawers.
He took out two linen handkerchiefs and gagged them both.
As he finished tying a knot behind the Russian’s head, he said,
“This will prevent them from making a noise and upsetting my mother.”
“There are – two more,” Belinda now told him, “waiting outside the – library window with a – carriage they – intended to take – you away in.”
Marcus Logan looked at her and smiled.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “I will see to them and I will also have these unpleasant characters removed.”
As he spoke, he pulled violently on the bell pull beside his bed.
Belinda knew he was ringing for his valet, and, as if to confirm it, Marcus Logan added,
“Grover and I will cope with everything and, as I do not want you to be involved in this mess, I suggest you go to bed now, before he appears.”
Belinda looked up at him.
“You were – marvellous!” she sighed. “But you are – quite certain that – the others will not – hurt you?”
“Quite certain!” Marcus Logan replied. “And thank you, Miss Brown, for saving my life!”
As if he knew she was reluctant to leave him, he took her by the arm.
He drew her out of the room and down the corridor.
He
opened the door of her bedroom and said,
“Go to sleep now, and I promise you nothing will happen that you need worry about.”
Belinda looked up at him.
“Please – be – careful!” she whispered.
“I promise you I will be,” Marcus Logan replied.
He looked into her eyes and saw the anxiety in them by the light coming from candles in the corridor.
Then he bent his head and kissed her.
For a moment Belinda could hardly believe it was happening.
Then, as she felt the pressure of his lips, the moonlight seemed to strike through her breasts.
Feelings she had never known before vibrated within her whole body.
The terror that had been within her vanished and became a wild rapture.
Marcus Logan’s arms tightened.
His lips became more demanding, more possessive.
Then, as Belinda felt the world move dizzily around her, she was free.
“Go to bed!” Marcus Logan said in a deep voice. “We will talk about all this tomorrow.”
He pushed her gently into the room and closed the door behind him.
She could hear his feet running down the corridor.
She groped her way in the darkness towards the bed.
She found it and lay down without taking off her dressing gown.
As she did so, she knew she had fallen in love.
It was incredible, unbelievable!
While it was something she had often thought about and dreamt about, she had never imagined it would be what she was feeling now.
“I love – him!” she whispered in the darkness.
She knew that even as the words moved on her lips, it was hopeless.
Marcus Logan was as far out of reach as the stars in the sky.
“I love him! I love him!” she whispered again.
She knew it was the perfect love that she had read about in books, but for her there could be no happy ending.
Chapter Seven
Belinda awoke and looked at the clock beside her bed.
She felt it could not be true.
It was nearly eleven o’clock and no one had woken her.
She rang the bell and, when the maid appeared, she asked her incredulously,
“Is the clock wrong or is it really nearly eleven o’clock?”
“It’s all right, miss,” the maid said. “His Lordship told me you weren’t to be called, but allowed to sleep on till you woke.”
Lucky Logan Finds Love Page 9
