Page 22 of Somewhere I'll Find You
Your servant,
Damon, Lord Savage
Cautiously Julia lifted a small blue velvet pouch from the box, and dropped its contents into her hand. Arlyss gave an audible gasp, while Mr. Kerwin made a rumbling noise of approval in his throat. Unable to resist, the group of actors gathered around to view the offering.
In the center of Julia's palm was the most exquisite brooch she had ever seen, a tiny bouquet of roses with glittering ruby petals and emerald leaves. She could well believe that Mrs. Dora Jordan, the consort of the king's brother so many years ago, would have owned such a magnificent piece. Although Julia had been offered jewelry and gifts from many would-be suitors—and she had refused all of it—no one had ever given her something so elegant. Dumbfounded, she stared at the small treasure in her palm. “I…I'll have to return it,” she said with difficulty, and there was an immediate chorus of disapproval.
“Why should you?”
“Keep it, lass, there's your future to consider—”
“With his fortune, the marquess could buy you a thousand more and never miss a shilling!”
“Don't be hasty,” Arlyss urged. “Before you do anything, think about it for a day or two.”
“All right, that's enough,” Logan said, tugging impatiently at a lock of his burnished russet hair. “There are far better things to occupy us than Mrs. Wentworth's conquest.”
Obediently the players returned to their seats. Julia closed her fingers over the jeweled pin, her mind racing. Of course she must return it—she had never accepted a gift from a man before. In spite of his words to the contrary, she knew that Lord Savage would expect a favor in return. He was not the kind of man to give something for nothing. But a strange thought came to mind. He was her husband; why shouldn't she take it from him? Their long-ago marriage had deprived her of so many things. Surely she deserved this small compensation. The brooch was so beautiful, so enticing, and it suited her perfectly.
Mrs. Wentworth's conquest, she thought, flushing in dismay and delight. She shouldn't be pleased that Lord Savage had taken an interest in her. She should be alarmed. What an astonishing twist of fate, to be courted by her own husband! This flirtation with disaster must end before it went any further.
Sliding the brooch back into the velvet pouch, Julia forced herself to pay attention to Logan's notes. She was quiet and subdued while the others asked questions and made their own suggestions concerning the play. When the meeting was concluded, she went toward her dressing room, wanting a few minutes of privacy to think.
“Mrs. Wentworth,” Logan murmured as Julia passed, and she stopped with an inquiring glance.
“Yes, Mr. Scott?”
Logan wore a matter-of-fact expression, but there was a pinched look between his ruddy brows that betrayed some inner turmoil. “It appears the dinner with Lord Savage wasn't a great hardship after all.”
“No,” she said evenly. “It was quite pleasant.”
“Will you see him again?” Suddenly a self-mocking smile hovered on his lips, as if he felt like a fool for asking.
“No, Mr. Scott.” Julia wondered why his expression seemed to smooth out. Perhaps he was concerned that a relationship with Lord Savage might interfere with her career? Or was there possibly some personal motive in his question?
“Then it's all over,” he said.
Her hand tightened on the brooch encased in velvet. “Most certainly, Mr. Scott.”
Pauline, Lady Ashton lounged on the embroidered ivory silk counterpane of her bed, her voluptuous body covered in a slightly transparent pink dressing gown. She murmured a languid greeting to Damon as he entered the bedroom of her elegant London townhouse. They had been apart for the weekend, while she had visited her sister's family in Hertfordshire.
Immediately upon her return, Pauline had sent a brief note, perfumed and sealed with gold wax, to Damon's town address. From the demanding tone of the message, Damon guessed that Pauline had already heard of his latest activities. God knew how she kept such a close eye on him—it appeared as if she had employed a network of spies to watch him.
“Hello, darling,” Pauline said, gesturing him close with a slender white hand. Pulling his head down to hers, she kissed him ardently, holding him to her with surprising strength. Damon jerked his head back and stared at her curiously. There was a look on her face that he didn't like, a mixture of excitement and triumph, a glitter of anticipation in her dark brown eyes. It seemed that she was preparing for battle…and that she possessed a weapon that would guarantee her victory.
“Pauline, there's something I want to tell you—”
“I already know,” she interrupted calmly. “It's rather humiliating, you know, enduring the sneers and false pity of theton, while they're all trying to be the first to tell me that you've developed an infatuation for some cheap little actress.”
“I didn't intend to embarrass you.”
“How clever of you to plan it for an evening when you knew I would be visiting my sister's family in the country! How was she, darling? It must have been thrilling to have such a celebrated tart in your bed—”
“Nothing happened between us.”
She laughed skeptically. “Really? So she's playing that game. I've used that tactic myself…remember? I made you wait a full month before allowing you to have me. Waiting makes the victory so much sweeter, doesn't it?”
Until that moment, Damon hadn't been certain of what he wanted from Pauline, or what his obligations to her might be. She had been an entertaining companion for several months. He had never lied to her, had never taken anything that wasn't willingly offered…and he had paid handsomely for the privilege of being accepted into her bed. Although he hadn't come here with the intention of breaking off their relationship, he knew now that his liaison with Pauline had grown stale. They had never shared anything but physical pleasure. No deeper understanding or intimacy had developed beyond that, and it never would.
