Page 18 of Somewhere I'll Find You
The carriage traveled along Upper Brook Street and turned to ascend the long drive leading to a massive white and cream-colored house. The building was cool, beautiful and perfectly symmetrical, with towering Grecian columns and a wide portico adorning the front. Two graceful white wings fitted with rows of gleaming Palladian windows stretched out from the central structure. It was entirely different from the dark, gothic estate Julia had grown up in.
Savage preceded her from the carriage and reached in to assist her. Their gloved fingers caught firmly until she reached the ground, and he offered her his arm. Walking with him up the wide marble steps and into the house, Julia was intensely aware of the hard muscle in his forearm, and the way he checked his long stride to match her shorter ones.
A narrow-faced butler welcomed them inside, taking Julia's hooded pelisse and Lord Savage's hat and gloves. Julia was amazed by what she saw of the entrance hall and the rooms beyond, the forty-foot-high ceilings and antique columns, the exquisite floors tiled in green, blue, and amber. “How beautiful,” she exclaimed.
“Yes.” But Savage was staring at her instead of their surroundings.
“Show me around,” she urged, eager to see more.
Obligingly Savage escorted her through several rooms, pausing to describe the history of certain painted panels or furnishings. It was clear that the Savage family had a great appreciation of art. Many of the ceilings were studded with medallions of delicately painted angels, clouds, and mythological figures, while nearly every corner featured a piece of rare sculpture. There were walls decorated in gold and white to display portraits by Van Dyck and Rembrandt, and landscapes by Gainsborough, Marlow, and Lambert.
“I could stare at these for hours,” Julia said, regarding a wall of paintings with delight.
“I don't often have the time to enjoy them.”
“What keeps you so busy, my lord? Supervising all your investments and business interests, I suppose.”
“There is a lot to be managed,” he admitted, staring thoughtfully at the Van Dyck before them.
All of a sudden Julia was mortified by the indiscreet growling of her stomach. She placed her hand over her midriff. “How unladylike. I'm afraid I haven't eaten since this morning.”
The corners of his mouth twitched with a smile. “Shall we go in to dinner?”
“Yes, I'm famished.” Taking his arm once more, Julia accompanied him through more gleaming, art-filled rooms. Though it would have been best to find a neutral topic, she couldn't resist prying. “Surely you could hire estate agents and managers to take care of your business, my lord.”
“I prefer to handle most of it myself.”
“You don't trust other people very easily,” she observed.
“No,” he said quietly. “Particularly when my family's finances are at stake.”
Julia glanced at the uncompromising line of his profile, her brows lifting in mild surprise. Why would he admit such a thing to her? Without exception, all members of the aristocracy pretended that their money sprang from limitless sources, to be squandered without a trace of worry.
Savage continued without a change in inflection. “My father insisted on managing the family's affairs by himself until he fell ill several years ago. When I assumed control of everything, I discovered that the Savages were heavily in debt, and all our financial dealings were in shambles. The duke had a taste for gambling. If he ever made a sound investment, it was purely by accident.”
“You seem to have done very well for the Savages since then. Your father must be pleased that you have righted the situation.”
Savage shrugged. “The duke never admits that he was wrong about anything. He doesn't acknowledge that he made mistakes.”
“I understand.” The words came out almost in a whisper. But Savage couldn't know exactly how well shedidunderstand. As Julia had always suspected, their fathers were two of a kind. Like Lord Hargate, the Duke of Leeds had tried to control his family with an iron hand. When it had become clear that he was a poor manager of property and people, he had sacrificed his son's future in exchange for a large settlement from the Hargates.
Julia suspected that long ago Lord Savage had decided that he would never be controlled by anyone again. She felt a touch of sympathy for him, even kinship…but she suspected that as a husband, he would be inflexible, untrusting, and remote. A highly undesirable mate, at least for her.
The sumptuous dishes at dinner would have satisfied a dozen people. Julia sat to Savage's right at a long table laden with silver trumpet-shaped vases filled with orchids and trailing nasturtium. The first course consisted of vegetable consommé, followed by salmon rillettes covered with cream and dill. Afterward the servants brought steaming trays bearing pheasant stuffed with truffles and hazelnuts, and veal scallops swimming in Bordeaux sauce.
Julia protested as more dishes arrived; puddings, open tarts, sweetbreads, and vegetables. “This is far too much. I can't possibly do justice to it!”
Savage smiled and coaxed her to try a quail egg stuffed with cream and lobster. Indulging herself as she hadn't in a long time, Julia drank from a selection of French wine and applied herself to the feast with pleasure. Savage proved to be a charming dinner companion when he chose, conversing agreeably on a variety of subjects.
“Why become an actress?” he asked near the end of the leisurely meal, leaning back as their plates were removed and tiers of pastries and fresh fruit were set before them.
Julia toyed with a scarlet strawberry on her plate. “It was a desire of mine since childhood. I left my family's home when I was eighteen, worked in a company of traveling players, and then performed at a theater in the Strand until I was fortunate enough to be hired by Mr. Scott.”
“Does your family approve of your career?”
Julia snorted at the idea. “Decidedly not. They wanted me to remain at home…but only if I abided by certain conditions which I found unacceptable.”
“When did you marry?” he asked. “While you were at the Strand?”
