Lucky Logan Finds Love (9 page)

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Authors: Barbara Cartland

Tags: #London (England), #General, #Romance, #Historical, #Platinum Mines and Mining, #Large Type Books, #Fiction

BOOK: Lucky Logan Finds Love
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Then, as the footsteps came slowly towards her, she raised her head.

Standing looking at her was a tall handsome man who was regarding her quite obviously with surprise.

She was wondering who it could be, when he asked,

“Who are you? I cannot believe you are actually reading the book you hold in your hand!”

Belinda stared at him.

A sudden thought crossed her mind and she asked hesitatingly,

“You – are not – you cannot be – ”

“Marcus Logan? Yes, I am,” the newcomer said, “if that is what you are questioning, and I would like an answer to mine.”

A little belatedly, Belinda, remembering she was just an employee in the house, rose to her feet.

She was still holding the Persian book in her hand as she stammered,

“I-I am Belinda – B-Brown.”

She stumbled over the last word because she almost forgot it.

As Marcus Logan seemed to be waiting for more, she added,

“I have just – come as a – reader to – your mother.”

“A reader?” Marcus Logan exclaimed. “That is something new!”

“Lady Logan wanted somebody who could translate the books you have given her,” Belinda explained, “and I have – attained the – position.”

Unexpectedly Marcus Logan laughed.

“You can speak Persian?” he asked. “I don’t believe it!”

“It happens to be true,” Belinda said, “and I am proficient in other languages, including those of countries where, I understand, you have travelled.”

Marcus Logan sat down in an armchair.

“We must discuss this,” he said, “and, as I have learnt that my mother is resting, I do not want anybody to disturb her by telling her I have returned.”

Belinda sat down opposite him.

She thought as she did so that he was not in any way like she had expected him to be.

A picture had formed in her mind of a dark, rather hard-faced man who would look stern and serious and he would undoubtedly treat her as a somewhat tiresome and ignorant young woman.

Sitting opposite her was instead a smart young man wearing clothes in the latest fashion.

His face was distinctly English.

He was handsome with an attractive twist to his lips, as if he laughed at life and found it exceedingly enjoyable.

Impulsively, because she was so surprised, she asked,

“Are – you really ‘Lucky Logan’? I did not – expect you to look as you – do.”

Only as she spoke did she think that perhaps she was being rude.

She had said the first thing that had come into her mind.

Marcus Logan laughed again.

“I am not pretending to be who I am and I should be interested to hear what you
did
expect.”

Belinda felt embarrassed.

She knew it was impertinent for somebody who should be discreet and subservient to have spoken in such a way.

But she was so used to expressing her thoughts freely and impulsively at home.

Because Lord Logan was obviously waiting, she said after a moment,

“I-I suppose I thought – you would be very – serious and so intent on making – money that you rarely – thought about anything else – my Lord!”

Marcus Logan’s eyes twinkled.

“I had no idea,” he said, “that that was the impression people get from reading the rubbish that is written about me in the newspapers.”

“Is it – rubbish?” Belinda enquired.

“Of course it is!” he answered. “What they don’t know, they invent! While I have made, as doubtless you have read, many discoveries which have benefitted a great number of people including myself, I have enjoyed every minute of my travels, just because I love travelling.”

“I never thought of that, my Lord,” Belinda admitted.

“I suppose nobody else has either, but it happens to be true.”

“And yet you have found – diamonds and other valuable minerals in the countries you have been to”

“I have made little countries prosperous that were badly in need of the money,” Lord Logan replied. “If you want the truth, that is why I have gone East rather than West because so much there has been unexplored and the people themselves are badly in need of help.”

“I never – expected you would – think like that.”

“So you have been thinking about me?”

It was a question that frightened her.

There was a pregnant pause before Belinda said,

“I am – naturally, interested, mu Lord, especially as I was coming here hoping your mother would engage me as her reader.”

“And who told you she wanted one?” Lord Logan asked.

This was a question Belinda had not expected. She tried frantically to remember what her stepfather had said.

Finally, because it was easier, she told the truth.

“My family,” she said hesitatingly, “has – had bad news and I found I had to – earn my own living.”

“And this was the first place you came to?”

Belinda nodded.

She had the idea that his eyes were penetratingly taking in her appearance and the expensive gown she wore.

He seemed to be trying to work out why she should need to earn money as his mother’s reader.

It suddenly struck Belinda as strange that neither she nor Lady Logan had talked about what wages she would receive.

She was sure that it had been very impractical of her.

It might also make Lord Logan suspicious.

She put aside the book and said,

“I think – perhaps I should – go to see if – her Ladyship needs me.”

“If that is an excuse to leave me,” Marcus Logan replied, “I find it slightly insulting. In any case, I have been informed by the servants that my mother is sleeping and will not be woken until four o’clock.”

“D-do you – want me to stay?” Belinda asked.

She was longing to go, frightened that he would question her further.

At the same time she was nervous of doing anything that was not correct.

Looking at her, Marcus Logan thought she was the prettiest young woman he had ever seen.

Yet he was aware that her eyes were frightened and he was curious to know why.

“I would like you to stay, Miss Brown,” he said aloud, “for the simple reason that I want to discuss with you what you are going to read to my mother – ”

He paused a moment and then continued,

“I think I can tell you better than anyone else what her tastes are in reading.”

“Yes – of course, my Lord,” Belinda said meekly.

She twisted her fingers together as she spoke, hoping she would not say anything foolish or make the man facing her in any way suspicious.

There was no reason, she tried to reassure herself, why he should be.

However, her conscience was pricking her and she was terrified that he might be aware of it.

“What I want you to tell me,” Marcus Logan said, “is which languages you are proficient in. In return I will tell you which of my books are the most interesting.”

“I can speak Persian – ” Belinda began,

“You have been there?” Marcus Logan interrupted.

“No, I have never had the opportunity of travelling, but I can speak the language and read books written in that language with very little difficulty.”

“How is that possible?”

Belinda smiled.

“My father taught me because he lived in Persia for some years as a young man. He loved the country and the people.”

“And in what other languages are you proficient?” Lord Logan persisted.

Knowing his parents had lived in India, Belinda answered,

“I can speak Urdu and I can read some, though not all, of the Buddhist literature.”

“And you enjoy that?” he enquired.

“I think Buddhism is a fascinating religion,” Belinda answered, “or perhaps the right word is the most ‘fair’ of all the religions.”

“Why do you say that?”

Belinda told him that she thought that the theory of reincarnation, or the
Wheel of Rebirth
, was the only way one could justify some people being born into comfort and luxury and positions of power, whist others were starved and neglected, having no hope of rising from the gutter until they died.

She knew as she spoke that Marcus Logan was looking at her not only with astonishment but also with interest.

Then they were arguing over the rights and wrongs of reincarnation and the possibility of it being the answer to mankind’s existence.

He was deliberately drawing her out, although she did not realise it and finding out if her ideas were superficial or her understanding went deeper.

Belinda defended her beliefs aggressively.

“How can it be fair,” she asked, “for someone to enjoy life to the full, to fend for himself entirely without a thought for others and repent only on his deathbed?”

Her voice was scathing as she added,

“He then says he is sorry for the sins he has committed and he walks straight into Paradise.”

“If that is not true,” Lord Logan asked, “what
do
you think is fair?”

“He should come back with his talents and his debts,” Belinda answered. “He should pay off the latter in another life until he is worthy of leaving this dimension for the next.”

She was expecting Marcus Logan to refute such an idea, but instead he clapped his hands.

“Bravo!” he exclaimed. “I can see you have studied the Buddhist Philosophy and I agree it is difficult not to think that you are on the right track, even though you have never left England.”

Because she had been quite heated in her defence of her thoughts, Belinda felt a little embarrassed.

“I suppose I must seem very ignorant to you,” she said humbly, “because I have been able only to think and to imagine what you have actually seen and heard and learnt at the very source from where it comes.”

“What is important is that you
have
thought,” Marcus Logan said, “and may I tell you, Miss Brown, that I can hardly believe anyone so young can have thought so deeply.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” Belinda answered. “It is very kind of you to say that, but I realise only too well that the more you know, the more you understand how much more there is to learn.”

“That is what I have found and that is why I travel from place to place, always learning and always discovering.”

He made a gesture with his hand.

“That is something even I myself do not understand,” he said. “When I am in a country that is desperately poor and where I know that the average man has little chance of rising from the gutter, something that I cannot explain tells me how I can help them.”

“It is your instinct – or rather your perception,” Belinda murmured beneath her breath.

“Exactly! But I cannot imagine how you are aware of it.”

Again, almost as if she was talking to her father, Belinda said what came into her head.

“I think everybody has perception or what the Egyptians call
The Third Eye
. But the trouble is, they have not learnt how to use it. They are, therefore, afraid to follow their instincts and are prepared to believe only something that is printed on a piece of paper.”

Marcus Logan laughed.

“I can hardly believe,” he said, “that I am having this conversation with you, looking as you do.”

“If you recall what we have just said,” Belinda replied, “we are both aware that looks have nothing to do with it.”

Marcus Logan put his hand up to his forehead.

“I still don’t believe this conversation is taking place,” he said, “not here, in England, where what I am expecting to hear is which horse won the Derby, what new law has been brought in by a political party and the very latest gossip about the beautiful women who shine in the Social world.”

Belinda gave a little laugh.

“I am sure it is all there, waiting for you, my Lord, but I am afraid, as I have been living in the country, the only question I can answer is that the winner of the Derby was called Caesar.”

“I
did
in fact hear that,” Marcus Logan admitted, “as soon as I set foot on English soil. It was this, of course, that put my own news into its proper place – at the bottom of the ladder!”

Belinda drew in her breath.

It was his news that she was waiting to hear.

But she was not surprised when he did not say any more.

He only rose from his chair and walked to the bookshelves.

“Now I am going to test you a little further,” he said, “and ask you to read me a few lines from any book I choose, of those originally given to my mother.”

Belinda also rose.

“I know you are longing to catch me out, my Lord, but I am just hoping that I shall be as lucky as you have been.”

“If anybody calls me ‘Lucky Logan’ again,” he exclaimed, “I think I shall hit them! It is a name which has haunted me wherever I go and always ends with my having to put my hand in my pocket.”

“And do you mind doing that?” Belinda asked him.

“That means you are asking me whether or not I am a ‘skinflint!’”

“No, of course, I did not mean it like that! I was simply thinking that you were lucky that your pocket was full.”

“There you go again!” he said in mock despair. “Actually I must be honest and say that I am delighted that I am not as poor as I was when I started.”

“Lady Logan has told me that you were not always rich, as everybody assumed you were,” Belinda said gently. “It must be very gratifying to know you can look after her now and that she can live in a lovely house like this.”

“I chose this as a background or should I say a
frame
for her,” Lord Logan said quickly. “She is a very wonderful person and I have tried to compensate her for losing my father and having only one son instead of the large family she would have so enjoyed.”

“She is very, very proud of you,” Belinda said.

“That is why I must never fail her,” he replied simply.

*

Later Belinda went upstairs to see if Lady Logan wanted her.

She thought, as she did so, that she had enjoyed a very strange conversation with Lord Logan.

He was, she knew now, totally different from what she had expected.

He had made her read from a number of books. He had, she knew, been astonished that she really could translate so quickly and so accurately.

“I don’t believe you are real!” he commented several times. “I shall wake up and find I have been dreaming this!”

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