Page 55 of Somewhere I'll Find You
“Have you seen him yet?”
Julia couldn't bring herself to answer, but he read her expression easily. “Gorging on sweets again?” he asked.
Julia flushed at his reference to their conversation at his London home. Her shoulders inched upward defensively. “It's not my fault if he chooses to follow me.”
One russet brow curled in derision. “Isn't it?”
“If you're implying that I've offered him encouragement—”
“I don't give a damn what you've offered him. Just make certain your work isn't affected. The first morning you arrive late to rehearsal because you've been lolling in bed with—”
“I wasn't late this morning,” Julia interrupted, her voice touched with frost. “Youwere, Mr. Scott.”
Giving her a chilling glance, Logan turned and walked away, snapping out commands right and left.
Julia felt disturbed and slightly puzzled. It was the closest they had ever come to an outright argument, and she wasn't certain why. If they had been any other two people, she might have speculated that Logan Scott had been motivated by jealousy. But that was ridiculous. He certainly had no romantic feelings for her—and even if he did, he would rather die than break his strict rule about never having a relationship with any of the actresses in the company.
Was Logan worried that she might abandon her career in favor of marriage?You would be difficult to replace at the Capital, he had told her last week. Perhaps that was true, but it wouldn't be impossible. There were always new and talented young actresses on the rise, and Julia had no illusions that she was irreplaceable.
As they conducted a full run-through of the play, the company was relieved to discover that aside from a few minor pacing problems, the production was nearly flawless. Logan, however, seemed far from satisfied, stopping the rehearsal several times to deliver terse lectures to the cast and crew. As the afternoon lengthened, Julia wondered how hard he intended to push the actors. Rebellious murmurs ran through the group until the rehearsal was finally concluded in early evening. “I want everyone to be here at nine o'clock tomorrow morning,” Logan said. Grumbling beneath their breaths, the assemblage dispersed quickly.
“You should be pleased at how well it went,” Julia dared to say to Logan as he stood in the middle of the stage. The lines of his face were set in harsh angles. “Instead you're behaving as if the rehearsal were a disaster.”
He gave her a threatening glance. “When someone appoints you as manager of the company, you can decide how to run things. In the meantime, kindly leave that responsibility to me.”
Julia was surprised and stung by his foul temper. “I wish we could all be as perfect as you, Mr. Scott,” she said sarcastically, and strode away. After snatching up her cloak and hat from one of the theater seats, she made her way to the entrance, forgetting in her haste that there would undoubtedly be a crowd outside. Now that the townspeople in Bath were aware of the acting company's presence, they would gather to catch a glimpse of Logan Scott or the other Capital players.
As she opened the door and began to step outside, she was immediately pushed back by a horde of people trying to enter the locked theater. “It's her!” someone cried. “Mrs. Wentworth!” There were eager cries from both men and women, and frantic hands reaching for her. Startled, Julia wedged all her weight against the door and managed to close it, but not before two men had forced their way inside.
Gasping with effort, Julia stepped back and regarded the pair. One was heavyset and middle-aged, and the other tall, scrawny, and much younger. The portly one removed his hat and regarded her with an obvious leer. The tip of his red tongue edged over small, puffy lips. When he spoke, the scents of tobacco and liquor wafted heavily from his mouth.
He introduced himself as if he expected her to be impressed by his title. “Lord Langate, my dear, and this is my companion, Lord Strathearn.” He removed his hat, revealing a sparse patch of pomaded and cologned hair. “Let me say you are even more delectable at close range than at a distance.”
“Thank you,” Julia said warily. She positioned her small hat on her head and pinned it to the neatly coiled hair at her crown. “If you'll excuse me, gentlemen—”
They crowded closer to her, backing her against the door. Langate's pebblelike eyes gleamed greedily as he glanced over her slender figure. “Being familiar with the city and all its delights, Strathearn and I decided to offer our services to you for the evening.”
“That's not necessary,” Julia said in a clipped voice.
“We'll take you for an excellent meal, madam, and then a tour in my carriage. You'll find it quite enjoyable, I assure you.”
“I have other plans for tonight.”
“No doubt you do.” Langate licked his thick lips and smiled, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. “But surely you could be persuaded to change them for a pair of gentlemen who admire you so greatly.”
“I'm afraid not.” Julia tried to push past them, only to be crowded against the door once more.
Langate's hand came to her shoulder, then spread over her chest. “Perhaps you need a little inducement.”
To her shock, she felt him fumble at her bodice, his short, pudgy fingers depositing a small wad of bills into her cleavage. Shuddering in revulsion, she jerked back and fished the money out of her dress. Her face turned scarlet as she opened her mouth to call for help.
Before she could make a sound, however, a dark whirlwind descended on them. Julia blinked and froze while swift movement took place around her. The two men who had crushed her against the door were suddenly gone, plucked away as if by some gigantic Olympian hand. The wad of money dropped from Julia's fingers and scattered over the floor. Dazedly she stared at her rescuer. It was Damon, his face a cold mask, his eyes lit with murderous fury. He had pinned the hapless lords against the wall like a pair of yapping terriers. It didn't seem that he heard their babbling apologies and explanations. They both fell silent as he spoke to them, words hissing between his teeth.
“If you approach her again, I'll rip you to pieces…and I won't stop until you're scattered from one side of Bath to the other.”
Langate's blubbery face turned purple. “We weren't aware she was spoken for,” he managed to say.
Damon released Strathearn and focused all his attention on Langate. His fingers tightened on the man's throat. “Touch her, speak to her, even look at her…and I'll kill you.”
