Page 27 of Somewhere I'll Find You
Damon had set foot on the Hargate estate only twice in his life before now. The first time had been on the day of his wedding, when he was seven. The second was three years ago, when he had first approached the Hargates about their daughter's whereabouts. He had found Lady Hargate to be a quiet and pale woman, subdued in voice and appearance. Predictably, Lord Hargate was a cold man, the kind who considered himself superior to everyone he encountered. Since that day Damon had often wondered which one Julia Hargate favored more, her timid mother or her overbearing father. Neither possibility was appealing.
Damon waited patiently in the entrance hall. The interior of the house was luxurious, intimidating, almost churchlike, with its intricately vaulted ceilings and the smell of polished wood. What had it been like for a little girl to grow up in such surroundings? Had Julia Hargate filled the halls with boisterous shrieks and sent her childish voice echoing up to the lofty ceilings? Or had she played quietly in some private corner, lost in her own imaginings? His own childhood, with all its faults and uncertainties, was infinitely preferable to this.
Where was Julia now? Where would she escape to after being brought up in a place like this?Escape…Briefly he thought of Jessica Wentworth on the night they had met at the weekend party, and what she had said to him.I've never met a person who is comfortable with his or her past. There is always something we would like to change, or forget—
The housemaid returned and interrupted his thoughts. “Lady Hargate will see you, my lord. But not for long, if you please, sir, as her health is delicate.”
“I understand.”
The housemaid led him from the entrance hall to the upstairs, along thickly carpeted hallways and endless stretches of carved woodwork. Damon wasn't certain what he would say to Lady Hargate. He would have preferred to meet with Julia's father, and do whatever was necessary to force him to reveal his daughter's whereabouts. Unfortunately it wasn't possible to threaten or browbeat a sickly woman.
A mother with poor health…it occurred to Damon that this was another similarity he and Julia Hargate shared. Years ago his own mother had died of consumption, her body pitifully frail and her mind occupied with constant worry over the fate of her family. How unjust it had been for a woman who craved stability to be married to a gambler. If only Damon had been able to protect her from his father, and give her the peace and security she had deserved. The awareness that he had failed his mother would haunt him all his life.
He wouldn't abandon Julia Hargate and haveheron his conscience as well. His own sense of honor demanded that he help her in any way possible.
He owed a responsibility to Pauline as well, but there was a difference between the two situations. Julia was a victim of circumstances she had been helpless to control. Pauline, on the other hand, was doing her best to manipulate him, and there was no doubt that her pregnancy was anything but an accident.
Entering a receiving room decorated in pale pink and salmon, he saw Lady Hargate seated in a large chair. There was something oddly familiar in her unyielding poise as she held herself upright and straight-backed, in the way she extended her hand to him as she remained sitting. She seemed exactly as he remembered, like a bird that infinitely preferred the shelter of its luxurious cage to the beckoning world outside. Once, she must have been a lovely woman.
Damon kissed her thin hand respectfully.
“You may sit beside me,” she said, and he obeyed at once.
“Lady Hargate, I apologize for the inconvenience of my call—”
“It is a welcome pleasure to see you,” she interrupted gently, “as well as an overdue one. Tell me, how is your family?”
“My brother William is well. Unfortunately my father has had a series of brain hemorrhages which have left him very weak.”
“I am sorry.” Her voice was filled with sincerity.
Damon was silent for a moment, debating on how to proceed. He didn't want to make small talk, and from the way she was looking at him, it was clear that she expected him to bring up the subject of Julia. “Have you heard from your daughter?” he asked abruptly. “You must have had some news of her. It's been three years.”
She was evasive but not unfriendly as she replied. “Have you continued your search for her, Lord Hargate?”
Damon nodded, staring at her intently. “Yes, without any luck. Julia Hargate doesn't seem to exist anywhere in the civilized world.”
In the next room, Julia pressed her ear close to the door, embarrassed to be eavesdropping but unable to stop herself. She was unbearably curious to find out what Savage would say to her mother, what tactics he would use to try to discover the truth.
“And if you do eventually find my daughter?” Eva inquired. “What are your intentions toward her, my lord?”
“From all indications, Julia is either afraid or unwilling to take her place as my wife. God knows I don't blame her. We're complete strangers. All I want is to know that she is well, and that she has everything she needs. Then I intend to resolve the matter in any way Julia prefers.”
“What if she wants to remain your wife? She may desire to become a duchess someday.”
“Then let her tell me so herself,” Damon replied grimly, his tension suddenly whipping out of control. “Let me see it in her eyes, and hear it in her voice. Damn her, I'd like to know what she desires, so I can stop looking for her and be done with this!” Instantly he regretted the outburst, fearing he had offended the delicate creature. “Pardon—” he muttered, but she waved the apology away and looked at him with disconcerting understanding.
“More than anything,” she said, “my daughter wishes to make choices for herself…and she has always rebelled against the fact that one of the greatest choices of all was stolen from her. Of course you must feel the same way.”
Suddenly Damon's emotions rushed within him like a river battering against a crumbling dam. There was no one in the world he trusted enough to confide in, not even William. His problems, his feelings, had always been his own burden, and he alone had been responsible for them. But at this moment the need to tell them to someone was one of the most powerful compulsions he had ever known.
Damon flexed his hands and spread his palms on his knees. “Yes, I feel the same way,” he said, his voice raspy. He couldn't bring himself to look at her. “I know why Julia rebelled, and why she's unable to face the consequences of what Lord Hargate and my father arranged. Although I've always known it wasn't her fault, I still blamed Julia for things she had nothing to do with. For years I hated her, almost as much as I hated my father for being a spendthrift and a gambler. I tried to forget her very existence. My mother's death and my father's ill health enabled me to bury myself in a world of new responsibilities. But Julia was always there in the back of my mind. I've never been able to love anyone, never felt I had the right to, because of her. I realized I could only be free of her by facing her.”
“I never realized how the marriage would affect the two of you,” Eva murmured. “At the time it seemed to make a strange sort of sense. Two families of good blood, ensuring that their children would each have a suitable life's partner…I felt relief, knowing that my daughter's future was taken care of, and that she would someday have a title that everyone would respect. Perhaps it would have been an acceptable arrangement for any other child but Julia. Unfortunately, I didn't know that my own family would be torn apart by the decision I acquiesced to. I didn't understand what a strong will she had…has,” she corrected with a rueful smile.
“What is she like?” Damon heard himself ask thickly.
“Julia doesn't resemble me, or her father…it seemed that even as a child she relied on her own opinions and judgment rather than defer to ours. I wish she weren't quite so independent—I don't believe that is a particularly useful quality for a woman. But there is another side to her, fanciful, passionate, and vulnerable. She has infinite moods and interests. I've never found her to be the least bit predictable…”
