Page 67 of Somewhere I'll Find You
“It appears your friends have left you. Would you like to be escorted somewhere?”
Murmuring a refusal, Julia shook her head. “It's only a short walk back to the inn.”
“You push me away with one hand and beckon me closer with the other. Some would say you are a tease, Mrs. Wentworth.”
“Is that what you think of me?”
“I think you're the most maddening woman I've ever known.” His gaze caressed her even as his mocking voice stung her ears. “Make up your mind about what you want, Julia. Soon. My patience has its limits.” He left her standing there among the bookstalls, her delicate face drawn in a scowl beneath the veil.
In spite of the reports of the bad luckMy Lady Deceptionhad experienced in London, every seat in the New Theatre was occupied, the building filled to overflowing. It seemed that everyone of note in Bath was attending, the audience infected with enthusiasm as they waited for the play to begin. Julia came to the wings to wait for her first entrance, smiling briefly at the encouragement the crew offered as they passed her in the semidarkness.
She made an effort to concentrate on the work ahead of her, making the play as successful as it deserved to be. However, it was difficult to push the events of the last few days from her mind. Her mind kept dwelling on the peace offering her father had given her, the scene with Damon today, the knowledge that she could free herself from him at any time. Damon was right; she would have to make a choice soon, if only for her own peace of mind.
Despite the hardships of her profession, she loved being an actress, loved the excitement and fulfillment of it. The idea of giving up the stage for good was unthinkable. But never to see Damon again…or, worse, to see him marry someone else, while her own life was devoid of companionship…that was equally repugnant.
“You're not thinking about the play,” a voice said behind her, and Julia glanced over her shoulder at Logan Scott.
“A thousand other things,” she confessed. “How could you tell?”
“You're so tense that your shoulders are at your ears.”
Julia made a face at him and relaxed her shoulders. She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and let it out slowly. When she looked back at Logan, he seemed reassured.
“That's better.”
Thoughtfully Julia looked out onto the stage, the shadowy outlines of scenes and props barely visible behind the lowered curtain. She had always loved this moment just before a play began, anticipation coursing through her body. But for some reason the feeling was tainted with sadness now. She felt almost as if she were a little girl who had opened a brightly wrapped package and found it empty. “How long will my life on the stage last?” she asked, speaking almost to herself. “Will I have another ten years? Even twenty?”
Logan came to stand beside her and viewed her critically. “You'll have a long run, I would say. As you age, you'll have the talent to mature into other kinds of roles, including substantial character parts.”
A bleak smile touched her lips. “Will that be enough for me, I wonder?”
“You're the only one who can answer that question.”
Together they waited in silence for the curtain to be drawn, for real life to be banished and the illusions to begin.
The performance flew by with lightning speed. For two hours one scene flowed into another, blending into a seamless whole. When Julia wasn't onstage or changing costumes, she waited impatiently in the wings, riveted on the action that kept the audience enthralled. When she was on the boards, speaking her part, she felt as if she were pulling magic from the air. She sensed the way the crowd hung on every word, their gazes following each gesture, every tilt of her head.
Julia knew she had never acted so well with Logan, their scenes resonant with emotion, filled with sparkling humor and yearning. For a while she ceased to exist as herself. There was no other thought in her mind but the play, no feelings inside her except those she manufactured to entertain the audience. As the final curtain fell, she knew that she had fulfilled the expectations others had of her, that she had played the part to the best of her ability. Triumphantly she let Logan pull her in front of the curtain to receive a thunderstorm of clapping and cheers.
Her face glowed, and she sank in a curtsy to acknowledge their appreciation. The applause endured for long minutes until she drifted toward the wing in an effort to slip away. Logan wouldn't let her leave, catching her hand and bringing her forward as the cries of appreciation rose even higher. Flowers and small gifts were thrown to the stage, piling in heaps. Bending to scoop up a white rose, Logan handed the blossom to Julia. She closed her fingers around the long stem and curtsied once more before walking to the wing despite the multitude of voices that entreated her to stay.
The cast and crew backstage erupted with congratulations, making her laugh self-consciously. Her maid Betsy accompanied her to her private dressing room. “There's a pitcher of lemonade for you,” Betsy pointed out, and headed to the door, knowing Julia liked a few minutes of privacy after a performance. “I'll be back soon to collect your costume.”
“Thank you,” Julia said, sighing in relief at the peace and quiet of the small room. She stood before the looking-glass, beginning to unlace the front of her dress. Now that the exhilaration of the performance was fading, she was exhausted. There were blotches of sweat beneath her arms, and the bloom of paint on her cheeks was beginning to streak and fade.
As she contemplated her reflection, she saw a dark form slip into the room. Startled, she whirled around, a faint exhalation leaving her lips as Damon stood before her. She hadn't expected him to be here tonight. Whatever he had thought of the performance, it wasn't delight or pride he felt. A flush colored the tops of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and his gray eyes were brilliantly hot. He was angry with her…and she wasn't going to be spared the biting lash of his fury.
Chapter 11
Staring at her husband in silent wonderment, Julia didn't resist as he approached her in two strides, crushing her back against the looking-glass. One large hand gripped her arm, and the other came to her face, his fingers wrapping around her jaw.
“I thought you were leaving for London tonight,” she managed to say.
“I had to see you first.”
“You saw the play—”
“Yes, I saw. I saw the pleasure you took in your acting. I saw how much it meant to you and everyone else in this cursed place.”
