Somewhere I'll Find You (16 page)

All of a sudden he was fiercely impatient to return to London and make Julia understand that he wouldn't try to change her, or take anything away from her…but was that true? He couldn't guarantee that he would easily accept her career, the theatrical world she occupied, or her stubborn independence. Perhaps the best thing was to set Julia free…but that seemed to be the most impossible choice of all.

T
he opening night of
My Lady Deception
, Logan Scott's newest play, had attracted a crowd of stunning proportions. Aristocrats had sent their servants to obtain and hold seats for them hours before the performance was scheduled to begin. The house nearly burst at the seams with the eager crowd. In the shilling gallery, where the cheaper seats were located, people argued and erupted into fistfights to defend their territory against determined encroachers.

Safely removed from the pandemonium below, Damon and William watched from one of the private boxes on the third-circle tier. A female singer employed to entertain the house labored to make herself heard above the din. “What a mob,” William commented. He regarded Damon with a curious half-smile. “It's not like you to insist on coming to the opening night of a play. Why now?”

“I'm a patron of the Capital,” Damon replied neutrally. “I want to see how well my investment was used.”

“The word is that this play is very good,” William assured him. “But I wish you had allowed me to bring a female companion or two. It seems a pity to waste the pair of empty seats in our box. I happen to know the most delightful twin sisters, both of them redheads—”

“Haven't you done enough skirt-chasing for one week?” Damon interrupted, shaking his head ruefully.

A grin spread across William's face. “I thought you knew me better than to ask such a question.” When his older brother didn't return his smile, William's expression softened with concern. “Thinking of Pauline?” he asked. During their trip to London, Damon had told him all about the supposed pregnancy and his demand to have Pauline's condition confirmed by a physician. “I wouldn't worry,” William said pragmatically. “It's a safe bet that Pauline is lying. She knows that if she can make you believe she's pregnant, you're the kind who'll feel honorbound to marry her.”

An ironic smile twisted Damon's lips. “I'm not as honorable as you may think.”

“You've never done a selfish thing in your life. You've made sacrifices for the well-being of the family that I would never—”

“Whatever I've done, it's been for purely selfish reasons. It's all been for my own gain, my own protection, so that I would never again be forced to do anything I didn't want.”

William sighed and nodded. “It always comes back to that damned marriage to Julia Hargate, doesn't it? Let's try to forget about her for one night, brother, and enjoy the play.”

“I'm afraid that's not possible. The reason I insisted on coming here tonight is to see her.”

“To see whom?” William shook his head as if he hadn't heard correctly.

Damon didn't bother to elucidate, only stared at him with the shadow of a smile on his lips.

“Do you mean…Julia is
here…tonight?
” William laughed incredulously. “No, you're trying to make me look the fool—”

“I've found her,” Damon replied calmly, enjoying the astonishment on his brother's face. “I know where she's been hiding and exactly what she's been doing these past two years.”

William raked his hands through his black hair, disheveling the thick black locks. “My God, I can't believe…how did you find her? Have you spoken with her yet? Why didn't she—”

Damon lifted his hand in a silencing gesture. “Wait. You'll understand soon.”

Spluttering, shaking his head, William stared at the crowd around and below them, as if he expected Julia Hargate to leap out of her seat and announce herself.

The female singer concluded her performance, curtsying in thanks at the scattered applause she received. After she left the stage, the orchestra was silent for a minute as the musicians readied their next piece. They broke into a lively melody that heralded the beginning of the play. Gradually the house lights on the sides of the theater were dimmed. Waves of excitement rolled through the pit and galleries, while the applause and cries of anticipation spread to the boxes and proscenium seats.

Damon imagined Julia waiting in some offstage area, listening to the eager roar of the crowd, knowing what they desired and expected of her. It filled him with a strange mixture of pride and jealousy as he realized that the audience of nearly two thousand, rich and poor alike, were all clamoring to see his wife. Mrs. Jessica Wentworth had been the subject of songs, poetry, paintings, and engravings. Everyone was enchanted with her talent, her face and form. Men wanted her, and women fantasized about what it would be like to be her, a beautiful and acclaimed actress with all of London at her feet.

He wondered if Julia would ever be willing to give up such universal adoration for the quieter rewards of marriage and family. What could he offer that would be preferable to this? Wealth meant nothing to Julia—she had proven that by relinquishing her own family fortune in favor of her freedom. And the love of one man must pale in significance to the love of thousands. Troubled by his thoughts, Damon sat frowning at the stage even as the curtain parted to reveal a spectacular oceanside scene. The backcloth was painted to resemble a sparkling blue sea, and delicately painted flats had been erected to resemble an elegant home on the shore.

A single figure strode onto the stage, a slender woman swinging her hat by its ribbons as she stared dreamily at the rippling water. It was Julia—Jessica—steadfastly remaining in character despite the tumultuous applause that greeted her. Other actresses might have acknowledged the wild response of the house with a pretty curtsy or a wave, but Julia continued to maintain the illusion, waiting patiently for the noise to subside. She was ethereally beautiful in a light blue dress, her blond hair falling in long curls down her back.

“Ravishing creature,” William said enthusiastically. “What I wouldn't give to sample her charms!”

“Not while I live,” Damon muttered, sliding him a meaningful look. “She's mine.”

William seemed startled by the comment. “Do you mean you've made her your mistress? Don't you think it would have been wise to get rid of Pauline first?”

“No, she's not my mistress. She has a greater claim on me than that.”

“I don't understand. Damon, she's not…” As William stared at his older brother, a strangled laugh of disbelief escaped him. “My God, you're not implying that she…no.” He shook his head. “
No
,” he repeated in wonder, glancing rapidly from Damon's face to the woman on the stage. “She couldn't be…Julia Hargate? How is that possible?”

“Her father disowned her when she left home and turned to a life on the stage. She reinvented herself as Jessica Wentworth.”

William spoke in a rapid undertone, his gaze locked on the stage. “By God, I think you're the luckiest bastard who ever lived. And furthermore, you should kiss Father's
feet
for arranging a marriage with her—”

“Things aren't that simple,” Damon said grimly. “Do you suppose I'm in a position to claim her as my wife and drag her off to the castle in Warwickshire?”

“Well, there is the matter of Pauline to consider—”

“Pauline is the least of it. Julia has no desire to give up the life she has made for herself.”

William was mightily puzzled. “Are you saying that Julia wouldn't want to be your wife? Any female in her right mind would aspire to marry a man with your title and fortune—”

“From all appearances, she already has what she wants.”

“A life in the theater?” William asked skeptically.

“She's an independent woman with a successful career.”

“A woman preferring a career to marriage?” William said, looking offended at the very idea. “It's unnatural.”

“Julia wants to make decisions for herself—hardly surprising after being managed and manipulated by Lord Hargate all her life.”

“I could understand it if she were a bluestocking or a hag…but a woman with her looks and breeding…” Confounded, William concentrated on the scene unfolding before them on the stage.

More characters made their entrances, a heavyset old man who garnered many laughs as Julia's socially ambitious father, and a small curly-haired woman as her personal maid. Soon a tall, blandly handsome suitor also appeared. He was intent on courting the aristocratic miss and also winning the approval of her father. A light conversation ensued, laced with charm and social satire.

Julia, in the character of Christine, exuded a mixture of sweetness and loneliness, clearly desiring more than the narrow confines of her life allowed. The next scene showed her in search of an adventure, daring to pose as a housemaid and venturing into town without a chaperone. Another skillfully painted backcloth and several set pieces were revealed, simulating a bustling seaside community.

Seeming lost amid the busy street merchants and townspeople, Christine wandered across the stage until she accidentally bumped into a tall, mahogany-haired man. Even before Logan Scott turned to reveal his face, the theater audience knew who he was, and burst into wild applause. His reception was as fervid as the response Julia had garnered, the shouts of approval and clapping hands lasting for a full minute or more. Like Julia, Scott chose to stay in character, waiting until the sound faded.

There was a tangible attraction between the two as they spoke. Every line of Julia's body was tense with wariness and curiosity. Logan Scott described himself as a servant to a local lord, but an appreciative laugh ran through the audience as they suspected that the identity was a ruse. Inexorably drawn to each other, the two made tentative plans to meet again, in secret. From then on the story took on a brisk momentum, at once romantic and lighthearted.

Glancing at his brother, Damon saw that William was watching the play with rapt attention. The skill of the actors made it nearly impossible to think of anything else. The supporting cast was strong, and Logan Scott was as talented as always, but Julia was undeniably the heart of the play. She was like a flame dancing across the stage, mysterious and vibrant. Every gesture seemed miraculously natural, each rise and fall of her voice filled with poignant meaning. She was the woman every man imagined himself falling in love with someday, desirable and infinitely difficult to possess. If Julia hadn't been a renowned celebrity before tonight, this performance would have ensured it.

It made the back of Damon's neck prickle with jealousy as he watched Julia and Logan interact as two lovers. He gritted his teeth each time they touched. At the moment they kissed, the theater was filled with wistful and envious sighs, while Damon longed to leap onto the stage and tear them apart.

During the temporary lull of a scene change, William turned to Damon with a speculative expression. “Do you suppose that Julia and Mr. Scott—”

“No,” Damon snapped, fully aware of what he was thinking.

“It certainly
seems
as if they are.”

“They're actors, Will. They're supposed to behave like two lovers—that's the point of the story.”

“They're very good at it,” came William's dubious reply.

The remark fanned the flames of Damon's jealousy, and he struggled to keep it under control. This was what it would be like, married to an actress. There would be doubts and resentment, and constant incentives to argue. Only a saint could withstand it—and God knew he was far from that.

Julia was filled with excitement and a calm sense of purpose as she waited in the wings for her next entrance. Gingerly she blotted the mist of sweat from her forehead with her sleeve, careful not to smear her makeup. The play was going wonderfully well, and she sensed that she was accomplishing everything she had hoped to in the part of Christine.

The laughter and enjoyment of the audience were invigorating, lending the performances of all the actors an extra sparkle. One of her favorite scenes was approaching, the one she and Logan had performed at the Brandons' weekend party. She and “James” would discover their true identities, with a blend of comedy and longing that she hoped would make everyone in the house laugh, and would touch their hearts at the same time.

Sensing a presence behind her, she turned and saw Logan nearby, his face crossed with shadows in the dimly lit wings. She smiled at him, arching her brows in silent question, and he winked at hen He hardly ever winked. “You must be pleased,” Julia said dryly. “Either that or there's something in your eye.”

“I'm pleased that you haven't let your personal problems interfere with your acting,” he murmured. “You're giving a fairly decent performance tonight.”

“I never said I was having personal problems.”

“You didn't need to.” Logan turned her to face the expanse of stage that lay just beyond the wings. “But
that
is the only thing that matters. The stage will never fail you, as long as you give yourself to it completely.”

“Don't you ever tire of it?” Julia asked softly, staring at the long wooden boards, weathered from thousands of foot marks and scuffs left by scenery. “Don't you ever want something you can't find here?”

“No,” Logan said at once. “That's for conventional people—something you and I are not.” Hearing his cue, he moved past her and strode onto the stage in character. Frowning, Julia held a fold of a soft velvet curtain and stroked its worn softness. She stepped forward to gain a better view of the scene in progress, and saw Arlyss waiting in the wing opposite her. They exchanged a grin and a little wave, both of them sharing pleasure in the play's success.

There was a hot, pungent smell in the air, the familiar scents of paint, sweat, and the calcium flares used to light the stage. But there was a new, nearly undetectable addition to the mix. Frowning curiously, Julia looked past Arlyss to the backcloth and flats. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but a sixth sense told her that something was wrong. Troubled, she turned to some of the crew nearby, a group of scene shifters and carpenters preparing for the next change of sets. She wondered if they too had the sense that something was off-kilter, but they seemed unperturbed.

All of a sudden, Julia caught a whiff of smoke. A throb of panic went through her body. Wondering if it was her imagination, she inhaled more deeply. The smell was stronger this time. Her heart slammed in her chest, and her thoughts turned into chaos. Fire had destroyed the theaters in both Drury Lane and Covent Garden eighteen years before. The death toll was frequently heavy in such situations, not only from the fire and smoke, but also from the panic that ensued in a crowded building. People would be crushed and trampled, even if the fire was quickly brought under control. Her cue was approaching—she had to tell someone—but where was the fire if she couldn't see it?