Page 76 of Somewhere I'll Find You
“After all this time…” Damon said. “After all the years I spent trying to find her, she dances away to the nearest lawyer and sends a letter like this. By God, when I reach her—”
“You should thank Julia,” William interrupted. “In my opinion, she's done the sensible thing. It's clear that you're not right for each other, and she's wise enough to know…” His voice trailed into silence as he found himself the focus of a chilling glare.
“You don't know what the hell you're talking about,” Damon snarled.
“You're right, I don't,” William said hastily. “There are times when my mouth seems to work independently of my brain…damned inconvenient. I think I'll go upstairs now.” He wasted no time in retreating from the room, after throwing a warning glance to the lawyer that made Lane fidget nervously.
“Your Grace, if you wish I can return at a later time when it is convenient for you to discuss your father's affairs—”
“Go,” Damon said.
“Yes, Your Grace.” The lawyer disappeared even more quickly than William.
It took Damon a long time to think past the flood of anger. He found himself sitting at his desk, a drink in one hand and a bottle of brandy in the other. The smooth fire of the alcohol began to dissolve the cold lump in his stomach!
Julia didn't want him, or the life he had offered her. He wished she were here at this moment, a readily available target for the derisive words he wanted to hurl at her. She was a fool for preferring a life on the stage to that of a duchess. Surely anyone would tell her that—even she must know it, despite her insistence on keeping her damned career.
Thoughts of revenge danced before him. He wanted to throttle her, bully her into accepting what he wanted…but she would never yield to him. She was too stubborn for that. Perhaps he would take some fresh-faced, blushing daughter of a peer as his wife, and bring her everywhere that Julia was certain to see her. He would make Julia jealous, flaunt his pretty young wife before her until Julia was eaten up with envy and regret. He would make her believe that the sham-marriage had meant nothing to him, that he considered himself well rid of her.
Pouring another glass, Damon drank in a search for oblivion that seemed just out of reach. The bitterness faded a little, and he stared at the papers before him until the words and letters were a jumble of foreign markings. Julia's voice drifted through his mind.
You would want me to give up everything I've worked for, everything I need to be happy…
If I were your wife, would you let me go wherever I chose, do whatever I pleased, with no questions or recriminations?…
Don't come back for me.
And the memory of Logan Scott's sardonic question, which stung even now.Can you give her everything she wants?
He thought of Julia in all her different guises. He had never met a woman who was so fascinating. For the, first time he began to understand that to imprison Julia in the gilded cage he had planned would be intolerable for her.
“Damon?” William's brusque voice heralded his entrance. Walking uninvited into the library, he flipped a sealed note onto the desk. “This just arrived from Bath.”
Damon stared at the letter without reaching for it. “Is it from Julia?”
“Oddly enough, the letter appears to be from her friend Arlyss Barry. I thought I would bring it to you before you're too drunk to read.”
“I already am,” Damon muttered, swilling from his glass once more. “You read it.”
“Very well,” William said cheerfully, “although you know how I hate to pry into other peoples' affairs.” Breaking the wax seal, he scanned the letter. The gleam of amusement left his eyes, and he shot Damon a wary glance.
“What does our Miss Barry say?” Damon asked, his voice surly.
William scratched the nape of his neck and shook his head doubtfully. “Considering your present state of mind, it might be better to discuss it later.”
“Tell me, damn you!”
“Very well. Miss Barry writes that although it's not her place to interfere, she feels compelled to inform you that she has learned of Jessica Wentworth's plans to marry Logan Scott…tomorrow.”
William flinched as Damon's half-full glass of brandy shattered against the wall behind him, sending a spray of amber drops and crystalline fragments everywhere. Damon lurched to his feet, breathing heavily.
“What are you going to do?” William asked gingerly.
“I'm leaving for Bath.”
“I think I should go with you.”
“Stay here.”
