Care to give me a quote for the reading public? Or how about you, Mrs. Devereaux? You look as if you’d come up a few notches in the world—or should we say
down?”
Logan’s gaze shifted. The glare he fixed on Armitage was cold steel. “Go away, little man,” he growled. “Tonight I’ll let you off with a warning. But if you ever come near my wife or me again, you’ll be hurting like you’ve never hurt before. Understand?”
Armitage took a step backward, out of easy reach, before venting his indignation. “I have the right to do my job,” he said. “There are laws—”
“And there are ways around those laws. Stay clear of us, Armitage, or you’ll wish you had.”
“Are you threatening me, Devereaux?”
“Yes.” Logan broke a fresh roll in two and buttered one of the pieces.
Ignored, Armitage stood fuming by the table. At last he drew himself up and cleared his throat. “I’m not finished with you, Devereaux. The press is a powerful weapon. By the time I’m done, you’ll be crawling out of town like a dog with its tail between its legs.”
When Logan didn’t reply or even glance up, Armitage made a huffing sound, turned on his heel and stalked out of the dining room.
Emma began to breathe again. Logan’s gaze warmed as his eyes met hers. “Finish your dinner, Emma,” he said. “The little bottom-feeder won’t be back.”
“Maybe not tonight. But he
will
be back. Don’t underestimate Hector Armitage. He can do a lot of damage.”
“Only if we let him.” Logan’s smile quirked The corner of his mouth. “What more can he write about us? In a day or two we’ll be old news. The reading public, as he calls them, will have moved on to some other scandal.”
“I wish I could believe you.” Emma nibbled a bite of her braised duck, which seemed to have lost its flavor. “At the very least, he’ll write more verses to that wretched song.”
“Then let him. Prove you’re not the woman he’s writing about. Be above it all.”
“Wise words.” Emma forced herself to return his smile. Her husband had a gambler’s confidence. But gamblers didn’t always make the right bet. Hector Armitage was cunning, vindictive and ruthlessly ambitious. Logan had made a dangerous enemy.
Emma stood between the open doors of the wardrobe, struggling to undo the back of her gown. The task was taking far too long. As shefumbled blindly to free each tiny, silk-covered button from its loop, the skin of her callused fingers snagged the delicate fabric.
Her work-worn hands were a reminder of the person she really was under her fine new clothes. Dressing up and going to dinner tonight had been like acting in a stage play. But the curtain had fallen and now she was plain Emma, shy and uncertain, with an eighth-grade education, a fatherless babe in her belly and a husband who’d married her to stay out of jail.
What had possessed her to keep the gown? Might as well put peacock feathers on a goose as a silk dress on someone like her. Since it couldn’t be returned now, maybe she could use the fabric to make a soft quilt for her baby.
From beyond the closed bathroom door came the sound of Logan bathing. Emma had hoped to be into her nightclothes by the time he emerged. But the cursed buttons were taking her forever. Miss Enright had helped her into the gown and fastened it up the back before leaving. It hadn’t occurred to Emma that she’d need help getting it off. No wonder so many wealthy women had maids to assist them.
White and soft, her new nightgown lay on the bed, which had been turned down while they were at dinner. Thinking of the nightahead sent a quiver through Emma’s body. True, Logan had promised to leave her alone. But he’d been the soul of generosity today, and a man didn’t shower a woman with favors unless he expected something in return. What would she do if he demanded payment for the clothes and the meals? How long could she deny him what he must feel he’d earned?
How could
down?”
Logan’s gaze shifted. The glare he fixed on Armitage was cold steel. “Go away, little man,” he growled. “Tonight I’ll let you off with a warning. But if you ever come near my wife or me again, you’ll be hurting like you’ve never hurt before. Understand?”
Armitage took a step backward, out of easy reach, before venting his indignation. “I have the right to do my job,” he said. “There are laws—”
“And there are ways around those laws. Stay clear of us, Armitage, or you’ll wish you had.”
“Are you threatening me, Devereaux?”
“Yes.” Logan broke a fresh roll in two and buttered one of the pieces.
Ignored, Armitage stood fuming by the table. At last he drew himself up and cleared his throat. “I’m not finished with you, Devereaux. The press is a powerful weapon. By the time I’m done, you’ll be crawling out of town like a dog with its tail between its legs.”
When Logan didn’t reply or even glance up, Armitage made a huffing sound, turned on his heel and stalked out of the dining room.
Emma began to breathe again. Logan’s gaze warmed as his eyes met hers. “Finish your dinner, Emma,” he said. “The little bottom-feeder won’t be back.”
“Maybe not tonight. But he
will
be back. Don’t underestimate Hector Armitage. He can do a lot of damage.”
“Only if we let him.” Logan’s smile quirked The corner of his mouth. “What more can he write about us? In a day or two we’ll be old news. The reading public, as he calls them, will have moved on to some other scandal.”
“I wish I could believe you.” Emma nibbled a bite of her braised duck, which seemed to have lost its flavor. “At the very least, he’ll write more verses to that wretched song.”
“Then let him. Prove you’re not the woman he’s writing about. Be above it all.”
“Wise words.” Emma forced herself to return his smile. Her husband had a gambler’s confidence. But gamblers didn’t always make the right bet. Hector Armitage was cunning, vindictive and ruthlessly ambitious. Logan had made a dangerous enemy.
Emma stood between the open doors of the wardrobe, struggling to undo the back of her gown. The task was taking far too long. As shefumbled blindly to free each tiny, silk-covered button from its loop, the skin of her callused fingers snagged the delicate fabric.
Her work-worn hands were a reminder of the person she really was under her fine new clothes. Dressing up and going to dinner tonight had been like acting in a stage play. But the curtain had fallen and now she was plain Emma, shy and uncertain, with an eighth-grade education, a fatherless babe in her belly and a husband who’d married her to stay out of jail.
What had possessed her to keep the gown? Might as well put peacock feathers on a goose as a silk dress on someone like her. Since it couldn’t be returned now, maybe she could use the fabric to make a soft quilt for her baby.
From beyond the closed bathroom door came the sound of Logan bathing. Emma had hoped to be into her nightclothes by the time he emerged. But the cursed buttons were taking her forever. Miss Enright had helped her into the gown and fastened it up the back before leaving. It hadn’t occurred to Emma that she’d need help getting it off. No wonder so many wealthy women had maids to assist them.
White and soft, her new nightgown lay on the bed, which had been turned down while they were at dinner. Thinking of the nightahead sent a quiver through Emma’s body. True, Logan had promised to leave her alone. But he’d been the soul of generosity today, and a man didn’t shower a woman with favors unless he expected something in return. What would she do if he demanded payment for the clothes and the meals? How long could she deny him what he must feel he’d earned?
How could
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