Page 65 of Somewhere I'll Find You
Upon Julia's return, the cast and crew ofMy Lady Deceptionassembled at the New Theatre on Tuesday morning. To everyone's gratification, the rehearsal was lively and smooth. Even Logan, the relentless perfectionist, couldn't conceal his satisfaction. After bestowing a few words of praise on the assemblage, he dismissed them early, giving them ample time to rest and prepare for the opening performance that night.
Julia couldn't help but notice that something had happened to Arlyss during her absence. There was a sparkle and an air of youthful eagerness about the petite actress. While Arlyss waited in the wings for her cues, she made eyes at Michael Fiske and flirted indiscreetly with him. For his part, Fiske seemed to have completely lost interest in Mary Woods, all his attention focused on Arlyss. Whenever the two were near each other, the air crackled with romantic tension.
As soon as the rehearsal was over, Julia cornered Arlyss and regarded her with an expectant smile. “Well?” she demanded. “Something has occurred between you and Mr. Fiske in my absence, and I must hear about it.”
Arlyss's face glowed with a self-satisfied grin. “I've decided you were right. I deserve to be with a man who appreciates me. I went to Michael after the company shared a late supper at the hotel, and whispered a few sweet words in his ear…he melted like butter. He loves me, Jessica! To Michael it doesn't matter who I am or what I've done…and when I ask him how he could feel that way, he says he's loved me from the first moment he saw me. Can you believe a man would tell me such things?”
“Of course I can,” Julia replied in genuine delight. “You deserve to be loved, Arlyss. I'm glad you finally had the wisdom to choose someone who won't take advantage of you.” She paused and regarded Arlyss closely. “But what of your infatuation with Mr. Scott?”
“Completely gone.” Arlyss leaned closer and said conspiratorially, “If you ask me, Mr. Scott is a cold fish. He'll never give his heart to anyone.” Her gaze happened to fall on Michael Fiske as he adjusted a piece of scenery, and her expression brightened. “This afternoon Michael and I are going to shop among the bookstalls, and then we'll stop at a pastry shop for gingerbread. Come with us, Jessica—you look as though you need a bit of fun.”
The idea of browsing among stacks of books was definitely appealing. “Thank you,” Julia said with a dawning smile. “Perhaps I will.”
“Mrs. Wentworth, I want a word with you.” Logan interrupted the conversation in his usual brusque manner, taking her aside for a private conversation. Arlyss smiled and went to Fiske, resting her hands on her hips and swaying them saucily.
Julia gave Logan an inquiring glance. He had surprised her earlier in the day with his terse greeting, not even bothering to ask about her father's health. They had launched immediately into the business of the rehearsal, and she had assumed that Logan was either too busy or didn't care to hear about her personal life.
The bright theater lighting struck glints of fire in Logan's auburn hair and made his blunt features seem more angular than usual. “How is your father?” he asked without preamble.
“Much better, thank you.”
“And the differences between you? Were any of those resolved?”
For some reason she hesitated before answering, feeling as if the subject were too intimate to discuss openly. But she had confessed her secrets to him before, and she knew him to be a trustworthy confidant. “Yes, actually. My father seems to regret what he has done. He expressed the desire to make amends. He even gave me the means to procure an annulment, if I so choose.”
His eyes flickered with interest. “What will you decide?”
Julia thought of facing Damon again, and her stomach tightened with a strange, almost pleasurable tension. “I don't know.” A frown etched itself deeply across her forehead. “Part of me wants nothing more than to go to him and tell him how much I love him, that he's worth any sacrifice…and the other part wants to cling so tightly to the theater that everything else will be lost. I never imagined that making such a choice would be so difficult.”
“There are other options,” Logan said, his expression enigmatic.
“Such as?”
“Perhaps we'll discuss them someday.”
Perplexed, Julia stared after him as he left, and a short laugh broke from her lips. It was so like Logan to cast out a mysterious statement and then leave. He was a consummate showman, knowing exactly how to capture the attention of any audience and keep it.
Moving slowly among the open-air bookstalls, Julia enjoyed the scent of crisp air mingling with leather and book dust. Some volumes were new, some used, all of them containing the tantalizing promise of new worlds to escape into. Her collection of purchases grew until it had become an ungainly tower of books that wobbled dangerously in her arms. Arlyss and Michael seemed far less interested in the reading material than in each other. They exchanged giggling whispers, meaningful glances, and occasional fondles that they thought no one else could see.
Although Julia had decided she had selected enough books, one more with a scarlet and gold-embossed cover caught her eye, and she opened the thick volume. As she glanced through the first few pages, she heard a vaguely familiar voice nearby. Alertly she listened, and watched through the screen of her veil until she saw the speaker.
Julia's heart lurched as a tall, dark figure came into view a few stalls away, a man with raven-black hair and a striking hard-edged profile.Damon, she thought immediately…but it wasn't her husband; it was his younger brother, Lord William. He appeared to be less than enthralled by the piles of books around him, complaining to an unseen companion that it was time to leave. “I had better things in mind than hunting forbooks,” he said irritably. “Haven't you seen enough of the damned things by now, brother?”
So Damon was here. Julia's gaze darted around the scene, and she found him immediately, his broad-shouldered form unmistakable. Somehow the intensity of her stare must have betrayed her, for he turned in a sudden fluid movement and looked directly at her. An immediate gleam of recognition shone in his eyes. Blindly Julia turned back toward the table of books, while her heart knocked clumsily inside her chest. She held the heavy stack of volumes close to her body, waiting with her eyes half-closed, wondering madly if he would come to her.
Gradually she sensed him standing behind her, close but not touching, his breath stirring the veil that flowed from the narrow brim of her hat. He spoke in a near whisper that undercut the bustle of the bookstall crowd, the softness of his voice recalling the intimate conversations they had shared the last night they had spent together.
“How was your visit to Buckinghamshire?”
Julia wanted to face him, but her feet seemed rooted to the ground. Words threatened to burst from her lips in a nervous flurry. Somehow she managed to contain them and answer calmly. “My father was ill with a fever. I went to him as soon as I found out.”
“Your father,” he repeated, surprise coloring his tone. “I assumed it was Lady Hargate—”
“No, she's very well, actually. She's nursing Father, and he seems much better now. He and I have come to a sort of…truce.” Julia felt his hand on her arm, turning her to look at him. She complied, still clutching the pile of books. The luminous gray of his eyes was visible through her veil, his expression remote.
“I'm glad for you,” Damon said quietly. “It was a long time coming. No doubt it was a relief to him as well as to you.”
“Yes,” Julia said, feeling out of breath as she stared at him. Why did he have to be so devastatingly attractive? Why did he have to look serious and brooding? Why was it such an unholy temptation to coax the firm set of his mouth into the passionate softness she remembered so well? She wanted to drop the load of books and reach for his large, warm hands, and pull them to her body. She wanted him, she was starved for him…and he gave no clue as to whether he felt the same. “I…I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was leaving, but there was little time—”
