Somewhere I'll Find You (26 page)

In spite of the reports of the bad luck
My Lady Deception
had experienced in London, every seat in the New Theatre was occupied, the building filled to overflowing. It seemed that everyone of note in Bath was attending, the audience infected with enthusiasm as they waited for the play to begin. Julia came to the wings to wait for her first entrance, smiling briefly at the encouragement the crew offered as they passed her in the semidarkness.

She made an effort to concentrate on the work ahead of her, making the play as successful as it deserved to be. However, it was difficult to push the events of the last few days from her mind. Her mind kept dwelling on the peace offering her father had given her, the scene with Damon today, the knowledge that she could free herself from him at any time. Damon was right; she would have to make a choice soon, if only for her own peace of mind.

Despite the hardships of her profession, she loved being an actress, loved the excitement and fulfillment of it. The idea of giving up the stage for good was unthinkable. But never to see Damon again…or, worse, to see him marry someone else, while her own life was devoid of companionship…that was equally repugnant.

“You're not thinking about the play,” a voice said behind her, and Julia glanced over her shoulder at Logan Scott.

“A thousand other things,” she confessed. “How could you tell?”

“You're so tense that your shoulders are at your ears.”

Julia made a face at him and relaxed her shoulders. She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and let it out slowly. When she looked back at Logan, he seemed reassured.

“That's better.”

Thoughtfully Julia looked out onto the stage, the shadowy outlines of scenes and props barely visible behind the lowered curtain. She had always loved this moment just before a play began, anticipation coursing through her body. But for some reason the feeling was tainted with sadness now. She felt almost as if she were a little girl who had opened a brightly wrapped package and found it empty. “How long will my life on the stage last?” she asked, speaking almost to herself. “Will I have another ten years? Even twenty?”

Logan came to stand beside her and viewed her critically. “You'll have a long run, I would say. As you age, you'll have the talent to mature into other kinds of roles, including substantial character parts.”

A bleak smile touched her lips. “Will that be enough for me, I wonder?”

“You're the only one who can answer that question.”

Together they waited in silence for the curtain to be drawn, for real life to be banished and the illusions to begin.

The performance flew by with lightning speed. For two hours one scene flowed into another, blending into a seamless whole. When Julia wasn't onstage or changing costumes, she waited impatiently in the wings, riveted on the action that kept the audience enthralled. When she was on the boards, speaking her part, she felt as if she were pulling magic from the air. She sensed the way the crowd hung on every word, their gazes following each gesture, every tilt of her head.

Julia knew she had never acted so well with Logan, their scenes resonant with emotion, filled with sparkling humor and yearning. For a while she ceased to exist as herself. There was no other thought in her mind but the play, no feelings inside her except those she manufactured to entertain the audience. As the final curtain fell, she knew that she had fulfilled the expectations others had of her, that she had played the part to the best of her ability. Triumphantly she let Logan pull her in front of the curtain to receive a thunderstorm of clapping and cheers.

Her face glowed, and she sank in a curtsy to acknowledge their appreciation. The applause endured for long minutes until she drifted toward the wing in an effort to slip away. Logan wouldn't let her leave, catching her hand and bringing her forward as the cries of appreciation rose even higher. Flowers and small gifts were thrown to the stage, piling in heaps. Bending to scoop up a white rose, Logan handed the blossom to Julia. She closed her fingers around the long stem and curtsied once more before walking to the wing despite the multitude of voices that entreated her to stay.

The cast and crew backstage erupted with congratulations, making her laugh self-consciously. Her maid Betsy accompanied her to her private dressing room. “There's a pitcher of lemonade for you,” Betsy pointed out, and headed to the door, knowing Julia liked a few minutes of privacy after a performance. “I'll be back soon to collect your costume.”

“Thank you,” Julia said, sighing in relief at the peace and quiet of the small room. She stood before the looking-glass, beginning to unlace the front of her dress. Now that the exhilaration of the performance was fading, she was exhausted. There were blotches of sweat beneath her arms, and the bloom of paint on her cheeks was beginning to streak and fade.

As she contemplated her reflection, she saw a dark form slip into the room. Startled, she whirled around, a faint exhalation leaving her lips as Damon stood before her. She hadn't expected him to be here tonight. Whatever he had thought of the performance, it wasn't delight or pride he felt. A flush colored the tops of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and his gray eyes were brilliantly hot. He was angry with her…and she wasn't going to be spared the biting lash of his fury.

S
taring at her husband in silent wonderment, Julia didn't resist as he approached her in two strides, crushing her back against the looking-glass. One large hand gripped her arm, and the other came to her face, his fingers wrapping around her jaw.

“I thought you were leaving for London tonight,” she managed to say.

“I had to see you first.”

“You saw the play—”

“Yes, I saw. I saw the pleasure you took in your acting. I saw how much it meant to you and everyone else in this cursed place.”

Julia shook her head, confused by his anger.

Damon's fingers tightened on her jaw, almost hurting her. “You're going to choose this, aren't you?” he said through his teeth. “You won't be able to give it up. Tell me the truth, Julia.”

“Not now—”

“Yes, now. I need to hear the words from you before I leave.”

“How would
you
react if I asked you to sacrifice everything for me?”

“Is that your answer?”

“I'm not even certain what the question is,” she cried, trying to pull free.

“I want you,” he muttered.

“But only on your terms.”

“Yes, on my terms. Taking my name, living in my home, sleeping in my bed each night. I want you to be mine with no limits…every part of you…every thought, every word you speak…”

Julia's struggles ceased suddenly as she felt his mouth on hers, the heat of his lips and tongue robbing her of breath. It seemed that he was trying to brand her with his kiss, imprint her very soul with the force of his jealous passion.

His arms were hard as they closed around her. Roughly his hands gripped the curves of her body, his head bending over hers until she arched against him. She didn't want to respond, but the wildness rose inside her until she submitted with a sob of despair.

Her hands reached around his neck, fingers clenching in his dark hair to hold him close. Damon made an urgent sound in his throat and cupped his hands over her buttocks, lifting her high against him. “You are mine,” he said against her throat, teeth and bristle scraping her soft skin. “You'll never be free of me, no matter what you do.”

She only half-heard the words, her body straining desperately against his, seeking the pleasure that only he could give her. His palms slipped up to her bodice, catching the edges of the fabric and spreading them wide until the laces slid free. Pushing her chemise down, he sought her breasts. His warm fingers curved beneath their tender weight, his thumbs passing over her nipples. Gasping, Julia offered herself to him, her mouth open beneath his, her breasts impelled into his hands.

He urged her against the dressing table and lowered his head to her breast, drawing the tight peak past his lips, against the flat of his tongue. Holding on to him for balance, Julia clasped his taut body between her thighs, her arms locked around his waist. Damon turned his attention to her other breast, licking and tugging at the rosy crest. Julia was trapped between desire and denial, knowing that the closeness she craved so desperately would be her ultimate undoing.

“Please stop,” she said between the rasping breaths that were torn from her throat. “Please…I don't want this.”

At first Damon seemed not to hear her, his attention focused on the ripening promise of her body, his mouth moving hungrily over her skin. She pushed at his chest and head, tentatively and then with greater force, until the embrace was broken. His gaze bore into hers, hands coming up to hold her head steady. “I'm going to London,” he said thickly, “and then I'm coming back for you.”

“No—”

“I'll never let you go. Not until you can look into my eyes and tell me that you don't love me…that you can spend the rest of your life without needing this…without wanting me.”

Her lips trembled, but she couldn't make a sound.

The opening click of the door, as quiet as it was, made them both start in surprise. The maid, Betsy, stood in the doorway with a basket of clothes. “Oh,” she said, her eyes round as she beheld Julia's visitor.

Damon moved in front of Julia to hide her from view while she fumbled with the laces to her bodice. “Excuse me, Mrs. Wentworth,” the maid murmured, and disappeared at once. The door shut firmly behind her.

Flushing, Julia continued the effort to restore her clothing, while Damon watched intently. “Please don't come back for me,” Julia said, avoiding his gaze. “I can't see you for a while. I need time to think.”

“You mean you want time to convince yourself that things can go back to the way they were before we met. It won't work, Julia. You'll never be the same…and neither will I.”

“You'll make it impossible for me to act. I won't be able to concentrate on anything.”

“I'll return soon,” he insisted, “and we'll settle things once and for all.”

Julia didn't move as Damon left. She leaned against the dressing table for support and let out an unsteady breath. It seemed that she had finally lost the tight control she had maintained over her life ever since leaving home. She thought of the papers her father had given her, the key to her freedom. Did she have the courage to use them? She hated the paralysis that had come over her, the fear of losing Damon almost as great as the fear of giving herself to him.

Slowly she undressed, letting her costume drop to the floor in a heap. “Mrs. Wentworth?” came Betsy's voice, accompanied by a timid knock.

“Yes, come in.”

The maid's face was stained with a blush. “I'm sorry about interrupting before, ma'am, but I didn't know—”

“That's perfectly all right,” Julia said evenly. “Just help me with my clothes.”

The maid helped Julia to dress, fastening a row of buttons on the back of her green silk gown. After pinning her hair tightly on the crown of her head, Julia washed her face and checked her appearance in the looking-glass. Her lips were soft and swollen, her cheeks were flushed, and there were betraying bristle marks on her throat. Carefully Julia arranged the high ruched neckline of her gown to cover the marks. She paused as she heard Logan Scott's deep murmur beyond the dressing room.

“Mrs. Wentworth, I desire a word with you.”

Julia motioned for the maid to admit him inside. Logan had also changed his clothes and washed, the residual dampness turning his gleaming hair the color of cherry wood.

Picking up her basket of clothes, Betsy said good night and left them alone.

“Were you pleased with the performance tonight?” Julia asked, “or have you come to deliver a critique?”

Logan smiled. “You exceeded every hope I had for you. You made everyone in the cast shine in your reflected glory, including myself.”

The lavish praise was so unexpected that Julia was disconcerted. She gave him a tentative smile and turned to straighten the articles on her dressing table.

“I saw Lord Savage coming backstage,” Logan remarked. “From his expression, it was obvious he didn't intend to congratulate you.”

“No, he didn't.” Julia's hands went still on the dressing table, fingertips pressed on the smooth surface until they turned white. She took care that her reflection gave no clue as to what had happened.

Logan regarded her thoughtfully and gave a short nod, as if coming to a decision. “Come with me, Julia. I want to talk to you about an idea I've been considering lately.”

She turned toward him, unable to hide her surprise. “The hour is late.”

“I'll deliver you to the inn by midnight.” His wide mouth curved in a smile. “I have a proposition that concerns your future.”

Julia was intrigued. “Tell me.”

“In private.” Logan clamped a gentle hand over her arm and drew her from the dressing room.

“Where are we going?” she asked, picking up her cloak as they left.

“I have a house near the river.”

Mystified, Julia accompanied him without further questions. She was puzzled as to why he would allow her to see yet another of his residences, inviting her a step further into the private world he guarded so jealously.

After making their way through the crowd waiting outside the theater, they took a carriage ride to a small, elegant villa situated amid thickly wooded grounds. Like Logan's London home, it was Italianate in flavor, with a luxurious but quiet atmosphere.

Sitting in the parlor with a glass of wine in her hand, Julia relaxed against the upholstered back of an Empire-style sofa. She stared at Logan expectantly. He fiddled with a few objects placed artfully on a marble-topped pier table: a Chinese meiping vase, a green malachite box, an ebony Louis XIV bracket clock. He slid her a sidelong glance, appraising her mood.

“You look as if you're preparing to talk me into something,” Julia commented.

“I am,” he said with disarming frankness. “But before I make the attempt, tell me how things stand between you and Lord Savage.”

Julia occupied herself with removing a minuscule bit of cork from the inside of her glass. She finally looked up at him with an uncomfortable smile. “May I know the reason you're asking?”

“I don't want to interfere in your relationship…your marriage.”

“There can be no real marriage,” she said, her voice dull and flat. “It's clear to me that we would both be better off with an annulment. Unfortunately Lord Savage doesn't agree…and he's rather overwhelming when it comes to getting what he wants.”

“And he wants you,” Logan said quietly.

“He wants a traditional wife.” Julia took a swallow of wine. “He wants me to become Lady Savage and leave all traces of Jessica Wentworth in the past.”

“That won't be possible. Not for someone with your talent.”

“If only I were a man,” she said bitterly. “Then I could have everything…my work, a family, freedom to decide things for myself…and no one would disapprove. But I'm a woman, and no matter what I choose, I'm going to be unhappy.”

“For a while, perhaps. The pain of losing something—or someone—fades in time.”

Logan was so matter-of-fact, so self-possessed, as if his heart was encased in steel. Julia wasn't certain if she was envious or appalled by his coolness. “You said you had a proposition for me?” she asked.

He came to the sofa and sat at the other end. His tone was brisk and businesslike. “During the next few years I'm going to make some changes at the Capital.”

“Oh?”

“I'm going to build the company into the most renowned group of actors in the world. I need you to be part of it.”

“I'm flattered that you think so highly of my work.”

“I never flatter anyone, Julia—certainly not someone I respect. You must understand by now that you're an invaluable asset to the company. I intend for you to be a cornerstone of its success. I'm willing to offer you a share in the Capital's profits to ensure that you'll stay.”

Julia was silent with astonishment. She had never heard of Logan making such an offer to another actor.

“I will do whatever is necessary to protect my investment in you,” he continued, “and to make a difficult choice easier for a friend.”

She tilted her head, considering the words with a perplexed frown. “It sounds as if you're offering a sort of…business partnership?”

“You could describe it as such. But the partnership would involve more than business.”

More than business? Julia stared at him closely. There was nothing predatory in his expression, nothing that would lend a sexual intent to his words. What could he possibly mean? Finding it inconceivable that she was having this conversation with Logan, she gave him a questioning look. “Perhaps you should explain.”

Absently Logan tugged at a lock of his ruddy hair. “I've told you before that I don't believe in love. However, I do believe in friendship—the kind that involves respect and honesty. I would never marry for love, but I would choose to marry for practical reasons.”

“Marry?” she repeated with an astonished laugh. “Are you possibly suggesting that you and I…but I could never marry a man I didn't love!”

“Why not?” he asked calmly. “You would have all the benefits of marriage…protection, companionship, mutual interests…and none of the liabilities. No false promises, no emotional entanglement, nothing but the security that two friends could offer each other. Consider it, Julia. Together we could build an acting company like nothing the world has ever seen. We're more alike than you think, both of us existing on the fringe of a society that looks down their noses at us—and at the same time they need what we have to offer.”

“But is it necessary for us to
marry
?”

“As my wife, you would accompany me to social events in London, Paris, and Rome. You could devote as much time as you wanted to your acting, choose roles for yourself, develop plays for the theater…I don't know of any woman who has had such influence in this profession.”

“The last thing I expected was to receive another proposal,” Julia said dazedly.

“There's an important difference. Savage wants to marry you in order to keep you all to himself. I'm offering to marry you in order to make us both successful, financially and artistically.”

Agitated, Julia finished her wine and set aside the glass. She stood and wandered around the room, repeatedly smoothing the long sleeves of her green gown. “What about…sleeping together?” she asked without looking at him. “Would that be part of the arrangement?”

“If the idea becomes mutually agreeable, I don't see why not. However, in the meantime we would pursue our separate interests. I don't want to own you, Julia. I want no rights over you—and you would have none over me.”

Gathering her wits, Julia turned and faced Logan squarely. He lounged on the sofa, looking utterly relaxed, as if he had proposed afternoon tea rather than marriage. “Why me?” Julia asked bluntly. “There are a score of other women you could marry, including a daughter of some titled family that would welcome a man of your means.”

“I don't want some clinging vine or socialminded miss. I want someone with whom I share common goals. As an actress, you have potential beyond any I've ever seen. As a person…I happen to like you. I believe we would get on well together.” His intense blue eyes focused on her pale face. “Moreover,” he added softly, “it would help you out of your dilemma, wouldn't it? If you became my wife, Savage would never bother you again.”