“Very true,” Mrs. Johnstone said. “Ye see, Amelia, when my dear sister was taken from us, the boys had no mother in their lives. Their father was too bound by grief to take another wife, so after a time, I came to live with them. By that point, Logan’s brother Ewan was on his way to becoming a man, but Logan was still a mischievous boy. He rebelled against any attempt I made to teach him to be a gentleman.”
“Ye knew nothing of children, much less a boy who’d lost his mum. We both know Maggie doted over him. Why, she spoiled him rotten.” Emotion colored Mrs. Langford’s soft tones. “Don’t forget, ye weren’t much more than a girl yerself. Ye went from a daring life in America to watching over two headstrong lads. But ye did well by those boys.”
“As well as I could. We all did.” Mrs. Johnstone cast her gaze down to her teacup. “All except for the blasted frog, that is.”
Mrs. Langford chuckled. “The ugly little beast was more terrified of ye than ye were of it.”
“I wasnotterrified of it.” Mrs. Johnstone offered an indignant sniff. “But I certainly did not expect to find a cold, grunting companion beneath my covers.”
“Cold and grunting—ah, that brings my dear departed husband to mind,” Mrs. Langford reminisced, her tone a cross between wistful and cheeky. “But I’d rather talk about yer memories, Elsie. Have ye forgotten the snake?”
Mrs. Johnstone flashed a scowl. “Good heavens, no. If only I could wipethatmemory from my mind.”
“Anyone who heard ye scream that night would’ve thought the lad had hidden a cobra between yer sheets,” Mrs. Langford said with a chuckle, clearly enjoying the memory.
“The boy was incorrigible.”
“He had spirit. And he’s turned out to be a fine man.” Mrs. Langford turned to Amelia. “I do believe Logan’s quite taken with ye.”
Amelia choked down the sip of tea she’d just taken.Oh, dear.
“It’s true,” Mrs. Langford went on with a little grin. “Why, I’ve never seen him so besotted. Not since that calculating little—”
Mrs. Johnstone shot her a sharp glance. “I don’t think Amelia needs to hear about that scrawny wench.”
“Please, do go ahead. I’d like to learn more about Logan. About what’s made him... well...him.” Amelia took a little sip of tea, if only to collect her thoughts. “He crashed into my life as unexpectedly as a bolt of lightning. I take it there was a woman he once cared for.”
Mrs. Johnstone nodded, holding her features taut. “Logan adored that girl. But love was not enough for the likes of her.”
“She accepted his proposal, you see. But days before they were to speak their vows, Maeve broke off the engagement. After she left him to wed that pompous arse, all puffed up with his title and his fine house, Logan changed,” Mrs. Langford explained. “He was bitter. And determined to make his fortune, no matter the cost. He sailed to America, then headed west to one heaven-forsaken town after another, taking risk after risk. Until finally, he returned home. His da was ailing then, but after his father’s blessed recovery, Logan left the Highlands behind for another life right here, in London.”
“I did not think he’d ever find it in his heart to care for another woman again.” Mrs. Johnstone’s gaze settled on Amelia. “Not until he met ye.”
Amelia struggled for words. She’d sensed he had experienced a great loss. And now, she was learning the truth. He had loved another woman, only to suffer a crushing betrayal. The thought of his misery cut like a dull blade. Would Logan ever again truly open his heart?
The cheerfultingof the door chimes interrupted the suddenly uncomfortable conversation. For a heartbeat, Amelia was thankful.
Until she saw the visitor who’d strolled through the door.
Cecil Mansfield.
Years had passed since her chance meeting with Mansfield at a museum ball, but there was no mistaking the art dealer. The man displayed both his wealth and his arrogance with each tap of his gleaming silver walking stick against the wood floor. Garbed in a meticulously tailored suit with a cravat of burgundy-hued silk loosely tied at his throat, he plastered a false smile on his face as his piercing gray eyes narrowed in assessment. Why in blazes had he decided to pay her a visit? Her intuition flared into warning. She would not like the answer to her question.
Mansfield greeted her with a perfunctory tip of his hat. “You remember me, do you not, Mrs. Stewart?”
“Of course. Paul was most impressed with your collection.”
Mansfield offered a solemn nod. “Your brother was a brilliant man. I valued his insights.”
“He possessed an incomparable eye for art. Might I ask what brings you here today?”
“You may have heard that I plan to expand my galleries. In light of my past dealings with your brother, I am inclined to offer an arrangement you will find favorable.”
Mrs. Johnstone and Mrs. Langford hiked their brows in unison.
“An arrangement? Of what sort?” Amelia questioned.
“The terms I am prepared to offer are exceedingly favorable. In truth, my solicitors believe I am offering far too much,” he went on without answering her question. “I would not consider such generous terms if I had not held your brother in high esteem.”
