Lucky Logan Finds Love Read online

  “That is true,” Lady Logan agreed. “I want to have grandchildren, but so far Marcus never seems to lose his heart.”

  Belinda had read about men who worked in the City who were despised by the aristocracy as being ‘in trade’.

  It was obvious that Marcus Logan was a gentleman and yet she wondered if her father would have approved of him.

  Lady Logan was still talking about her son and his travels.

  “I suppose no one else has seen so many strange places,” she said, “but even as a small boy he was adventurous. Once he ran away from home for two days and I was frantic!”

  ‘I am sure he is selfish,’ Belinda thought, ‘as well as everything else.’

  Instead of admiring Lord Logan, she began to think he would be conceited, autocratic and money grabbing.

  When Lady Logan paused in her endless praise of him, she asked,

  “Why is your son so eager to be rich when he was brought up in luxury?”

  Lady Logan looked at her in surprise.

  “That is not true. Did no one tell you that because my father-in-law was so extravagant, when my husband and I were first married we had very little money?”

  Belinda was surprised.

  “I had always thought from what I had read that you were rich and prosperous.”

  Lady Logan laughed.

  “My husband was a soldier and although he became a Governor in India, we were always having to economise because he had so little money of his own.”

  Lady Logan was silent, as if she were gazing back into the past.

  Then she said,

  “I remember how we saved and saved in order to send Marcus to Eton and Oxford. I used to alter my gowns so that I need not buy new ones. It always amused me when people complimented me on my ‘fashionable gown!’”

  Belinda laughed.

  “Seeing you in this wonderful house, I can hardly imagine you having to do that, my Lady.”

  “Everything you see here is due to Marcus,” his mother answered. “When my husband retired, we had only a very small house in the country, little more than a cottage.”

  “But everything changed when your son discovered a diamond!”

  Lady Logan laughed again.

  “It was not as quick as all that. We were very excited by his discovery, but I thought perhaps it would be unlucky to sell it. So we waited until Marcus started his other discoveries when he was at Oxford.”

  There was a soft look in her eyes as she added,

  “I will show you the brooch which contains the first amethyst he found in Scotland.”

  “I would love to see it,” Belinda replied.

  “The gems that he found in Austria and were his second discovery were sold to pay for his next trip which took him to Crete.”

  Belinda was just about to ask another question when Lady Logan suggested,

  “I will leave Marcus to tell you the stories of his other discoveries when he comes home. As I expect you know, we have to be very careful about what we say to the world outside, which, for some reason I don’t really understand, is trying to make money out of him.”

  Belinda felt guilty.

  She was deliberately trying to uncover information about Marcus Logan from his very gentle and sweet mother.

  ‘I hate doing it,’ she reflected.

  When Lady Logan went up to rest after luncheon, Belinda walked down the corridor to the library.

  “It is where Marcus likes to sit when he is at home,” Lady Logan had explained, “and I am sure, my dear, you will enjoy seeing the books that are there, many of which he has collected on his travels.”

  Belinda opened the door of the library, which was at the far end of the house.

  As she walked in, she knew it was exactly as she had expected it to be and she would have been disappointed if it had been any different.

  The room was beautiful in itself.

  Long and narrow, it had a finely decorated ceiling from which hung a crystal chandelier.

  There was a marble mantelpiece that she was sure had been designed by the Adam brothers. Over it hung a picture she recognised as being by Holbein.

  The other walls were all lined with books.

  The sun coming in through the long windows made their leather covers a kaleidoscope of colour. There were rugs on the polished floor that she thought Marcus Logan must have brought back from Persia.

  Arranged around the room were several comfortable armchairs and a sofa.

  The books provided the rest of the furnishings, the exception being a beautiful Regency flat-topped desk with gold feet and elaborate drawer handles.

  She looked round, thinking that if nothing else, this room would be a compensation for having to leave her home.

  She went from shelf to shelf, finding, as Lady Logan had said, a great number of books from Oriental countries.

  Some of them looked as if they were so old they had come from Monasteries or perhaps ‘Lucky Logan’ had been presented with them.

  That would be from people who wished to show their gratitude for the prosperity his discoveries had brought them.

  There was also a number of English history books and then, to her surprise, a few novels by Sir Walter Scott.

  She thought it unlikely that Marcus Logan ever wasted his time reading romances, as he would concentrate, she thought, entirely on the paths he travelled which led him to the Temples of Wealth.

  Looking among the shelves, she found some books from Persia that resembled the one from which she had read to Lady Logan. Because they were so beautifully illustrated with hand-painted designs, she felt they must have been done by Priests.

  Picking one out of the shelf, she went and sat down in an armchair.

  She was finding what she was reading extremely fascinating, when the door opened.

  She heard somebody come in.

  She did not look up, supposing it was a servant.

  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 a
s 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 le
arnt 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!”