Page 21 of Somewhere I'll Find You
“I won't let you refuse without explaining why you won't see me.”
“Because I have no interest in an affair with you…and given our respective situations, that is the only thing you would be able to offer me.” Julia's blood drummed in a volatile rhythm. His body was so close to hers, she could hear his breathing, sense his heat, and she was drawn to him like a moth blundering toward a flame. She wanted to tilt her head back and feel his mouth on hers, and press herself against him. There had never been temptation like this, a promise of something extraordinary within reach. But she would not give in to the self-destructive urge. It would be disastrous.
“I won't see you again,” she said, twisting until his hands dropped away and she was set free. “I must leave.” She hurried back to the fountain, and paused at the juncture of two paths.
Savage's voice was just behind her. “This way.” They walked back to the house in silence, seized with a tension that neither seemed able to break.
As the carriage rolled away with its lovely occupant tucked safely inside, Damon wandered alone across the marble floor of the entrance hall. He felt more restless than he had ever been in his life. His mind was filled with her; he relived every moment of the past few hours and craved more.
He wanted her. He wanted her with an unreasoning, blind insistence that raged through every nerve. And he resented her for it.
Slowly he went to the long staircase leading to the top two floors of the house. He stopped at the first landing and sat on the steps. Bracing his forearms on his knees, he stared without interest at the luminous medieval tapestries that covered the wall.
Jessica Wentworth was committed elsewhere. So was he. They occupied separate worlds. She was right, there was little he could offer her except an affair. And there was Pauline to consider. She didn't deserve to be betrayed and abandoned. What they had together was comfortable and easy, and it had been enough for him…until Jessica Wentworth.
He should put Jessica from his mind, now. It was the only rational choice. But something in him rebelled at the thought. He had never felt so confined, his choices limited by a past that weighed on him like a mile's length of iron chain. He was married to a woman he didn't even know.
If only he could find Julia Hargate, damn her to hell, and cut her from his life once and for all.
Chapter 4
The moment Julia entered the greenroom, she found a half-dozen expectant gazes pinned on her. The assembled actors, the principals ofTaming of the Shrew, were unabashedly curious about what had occurred during her evening with Lord Savage.
Only Logan Scott seemed too preoccupied with rehearsal notes to notice her entrance. “You're late, Mrs. Wentworth,” he finally said without looking up.
“Forgive me, I overslept,” Julia murmured as she made her way to an empty chair. It was the truth. After she had returned to her small house on Somerset Street, she had stayed awake for a long time, drinking wine and staring pensively at nothing. Even after going to bed, she had found sleep elusive. It seemed that when she finally dozed off, it was already time to awaken and face the day with bleary, dark-circled eyes.
She hadn't been able to stop thinking about Savage. Last night had been the culmination of all the fear and curiosity that had plagued her for years. Now all her imaginings about her unknown husband were gone. He was real to her, and more dangerous than she had ever dreamed. Savage was a magnificent man, intelligent, powerful, driven, the kind who could dominate a woman's life so completely that she would lose herself in his shadow. He was very much like her father in that regard. Julia didn't want to be the wife of a strong man—she had worked too, hard to become Jessica Wentworth.
It would have been easier to disregard Savage if not for the disarming hint of vulnerability she had seen…the gentle way he had touched her, the startling admission that he wanted to marry for love someday. Was there more to be discovered beneath his guarded exterior? She could never take the chance of finding out. It filled her with a strange despair, thinking of what had transpired between them. She had made it clear that she would not see him again, and she knew in her heart that it was for the best. But why did it feel as if she had lost something infinitely precious?
“Here you are,” came Arlyss's murmur, and the petite actress passed her a cup of hot tea.
Julia accepted it gratefully and sipped the sweet, bracing liquid.
“He didn't let you sleep a wink, did he?” Arlyss asked in delight. “I've never seen you so exhausted. Was he very good, Jessica?”
Julia gave her a weary scowl. “I wasn't with him—not in that way.”
“Of course not,” said Mr. Kerwin, a portly actor in his sixties who considered himself a sophisticated man of the world. He excelled at playing anxious fathers, harassed husbands, drunkards, and buffoons, always with a lopsided charm that endeared him to the audience. “Never admit a thing, my dear—your private life should remain just that.” He punctuated the comment with a friendly wink.
Logan's voice, dripping with sarcasm, intruded on the budding conversation. “Mrs. Wentworth, would you care to join us? I have a page of notes concerning your mistakes of last night's performance. I'm certain you'll want to hear them.”
Julia nodded and sipped more tea, wondering why Logan seemed so tense this morning. He should be pleased—the performance had been well-received by the audience and critics, and she had done her part for the Capital by attending the promised dinner with Lord Savage. What more did he want?
Before Logan could proceed with his reading of the morning's notes, the greenroom door opened and the hesitant face of one of the company's property-men appeared. “Begging pardon,” he said apologetically to the room at large, and his gaze flew to Julia. “A parcel was just delivered for you, Mrs. Wentworth. The boy who delivered it said it should be brought to you right away.”
Intrigued, Julia gestured for the small, plainly wrapped box in his hand, and he brought it to her. Mindful of Logan's gathering scowl, the property man vanished quickly. Julia was sorely tempted to open the package, but she set it aside to be unwrapped later, knowing it would annoy Logan to have further interruptions of the meeting. The assembled company stared intently at the mysterious box, completely ignoring Logan's impatient rustling of his notes.
“Well?” Logan finally said to Julia, his mouth twisting sardonically. “You may as well open the damned thing. It's apparent that no one will pay attention to the work at hand until you do.”
Arlyss leaned over Julia's shoulder, her eyes bright with interest, her brown curls fairly dancing with energy. “It's fromhim, isn't it?”
Cautiously Julia unwrapped the box and discovered a folded note inside. Everyone leaned closer, as if they all expected she would read it aloud. Defensively she held the note close to her midriff and scanned it silently.
Madam—
I am told this once belonged to the gifted actress Mrs. Jordan. It deserves to be worn by someone with the grace and beauty to display it properly. Please accept this token with the understanding that no obligation comes with it, save that you enjoy it.
