Page 12 of Somewhere I'll Find You
Logan murmured to hersotto voce, making it appear to the others in the room as if he were offering her advice. His words, however, were anything but soothing. “Listen to me. I don't give a damn about how you feel or what's going through your blasted mind at the moment. All I care about is the play and my theater. If you value your career, you're going to do the damned scene as we rehearsed it. You're anactress. Do what I've hired you to do.”
Julia nodded stiffly, feeling the warmth come back to her cheeks. She must get through the scene, no matter that her long-lost husband was watching her. Logan's quiet bullying reminded her of all the work she had done to become Jessica Wentworth. She couldn't ruin it all now.
“Tell me my first line,” she whispered unsteadily.
“For God's sake…” Logan muttered, giving her a dark look. “I'll start the thing. Just try to follow along.”
Julia went to a spot a few yards away from Logan and concentrated on him fiercely, waiting for his first words. The scene depicted the moment at which the two lovers discovered the other's true identity. As she stared at Logan, she saw his face change, and he began to speak to her as if he were a man in love. She felt herself slide into the role without effort, almost without thought. She was more focused than she had ever been in her life. Dimly she sensed the thrill of excitement in the room, but she was too engrossed to dwell on it.
As the characters uncovered their mutual deception, they went through a lightning-fast chain of reactions; disbelief, outrage, defensiveness, relief, and helpless passion. Logan's antics sent the small audience into fits of laughter, but only with the balance of Julia's sweetly romantic yearning did the scene reach a startling depth of tenderness.
Damon watched without blinking, almost without breathing. It seemed as if each word were spontaneous, as if the actors were living the scene rather than performing a piece that must have been rehearsed many times before. They made the art of acting look effortless. It was clear that Jessica Wentworth was an actress of extraordinary talent.
“My God, they're both wonderful,” murmured Pauline, who was never moved to praise anyone unless she could somehow include herself.
Damon didn't reply. Despite his admiration, an unpleasant feeling crept over him as he watched the two actors. Was it genuine, the undercurrent of emotion that seemed to flow between them? How could such smoldering intensity be merely an illusion? He wondered if Logan Scott had ever held Jessica in his arms and kissed her for real, if he had ever crushed her exquisite body beneath his. Surely any normal man would find her an unholy temptation. Damon imagined what Jessica Wentworth was like in her passion, shivering and abandoned as she gave herself to her lover.
A trickle of sweat ran beneath Damon's starched cravat. He took a deep breath, suddenly feeling as if his lungs would explode. It was insane, but he wanted to rush to the front of the room and tear her away from Logan Scott. It shocked him, his piercing awareness of her, the maddening craving to touch and smell and taste her. He had always been in control of himself and his circumstances, hadinsistedon it for as long as he could remember. No one had been allowed to have any power over him…not since he had realized long ago that his future had been sacrificed for his family's well-being. He had never wanted anyone with such unthinking desire, a feeling that engaged him body and soul and left no choice but pursuit.
The scene ended as Logan Scott bent over Jessica and gave her an impassioned kiss. Damon's hands curled into fists, while jealousy filled him in a poisoned rush. Applause resounded through the room as the guests exclaimed in delight. Smiling broadly, Logan Scott declined pleas for another scene, a monologue, something else to entertain them. Soon he and Jessica Wentworth were surrounded by admirers.
“A handsome pair,” Pauline observed, plying a fan of silk and lace to cool her face and throat. “This afternoon Mrs. Wentworth claimed that their relationship is strictly professional…but only a fool would believe that.”
Before Damon could reply, his younger brother William approached them, and obediently bowed over Pauline's gracefully proffered hand. “You look ravishing this evening, Lady Ashton—as usual.”
Pauline smiled flirtatiously. “How charming you are, Lord William.”
William turned to Damon, his blue eyes alight with enthusiasm. “Quite a good scene, wasn't it? I never thought there could be such a thing as a female Logan Scott—but Mrs. Wentworth is as superb as he is. I want to meet her, Damon.”
“She's a married woman,” Damon replied flatly.
“I don't care.”
Pauline laughed at William's youthful passion. “For a lad of your looks and blood, it shouldn't be difficult, dear boy. She's an actress, after all. Just be forewarned—she'll probably demand a fortune in jewels in return for her favors.”
“It would have to be a fortune to exceedyourprice, darling,” Damon said softly. Pauline gave him a haughty frown, while William smothered an impudent laugh. “Excuse me,” Damon continued, rising to his feet, “I want to have a word with Mr. Scott.”
“What for?” Pauline asked sharply, but he ignored her, making his way to Logan Scott, whose ruddy head was just visible over the crowd around him. Damon was filled with the most biting impatience he had ever known. He wanted to make everyone in the room disappear except for Jessica Wentworth.
As busy as he was, Scott didn't fail to notice him standing nearby. His blue eyes met Damon's, and though they had never been introduced, there was a gleam of recognition in them. Skillfully he managed to disengage himself from two or three simultaneous conversations, and approached Damon. Although he wasn't quite as tall as Damon, he was broad-shouldered and solid. Scott appeared to be a prosperous, supremely cultured man, his well-heeled image belying the rumors that he had been born as the son of a common fishmonger on the east side of London.
“Lord Savage,” Scott said, transferring a glass of wine from his right hand to his left in order to exchange a firm handshake, “I regret that we've never had the opportunity to meet before now.”
“Mr. Scott.” Damon returned the handshake. “I've long admired your talents.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Scott's mobile features arranged themselves in an expression of mild inquiry. “I hope you enjoyed the scene tonight. It is a small sample of the many worthy productions that will be shown at the Capital this season.”
“Yes, I did. In fact, I enjoyed it so much that I feel moved to make a contribution to the theater.”
“Ah.” A flash of satisfaction appeared in Scott's blue eyes, and he took a long sip of wine. “That would be very much appreciated, my lord.”
“I hope that five thousand pounds will be of help.”
At the mention of the sum, Scott nearly choked on his wine. Quickly regaining his composure, he regarded Damon with frank surprise. “As I'm certain you're aware, Lord Savage, that is an unusually generous donation. You have my deepest gratitude, as well as that of all the Capital players.” He paused, his gaze speculative. “However…I can't help but suspect you would want something in return for such a large sum.”
“I have one small request.”
“I thought so.” Scott raised his brows inquiringly.
