Somewhere I'll Find You (27 page)

As she returned his gaze, Julia was suddenly not staring into blue eyes but silver-gray ones. The sound of Damon's voice filled her mind.
You are mine…You'll never be free of me, no matter what you do
.

This was the only sure way to guarantee that the threat Damon posed to her independence and her acting career would be extinguished. If she didn't accept Logan's protection, she knew in her very marrow that she wouldn't be able to resist Damon's insistent passion. She would let herself be seduced, persuaded, convinced…and face a lifetime of regrets afterward. She loved Damon, but she couldn't change herself into the kind of woman he wanted.

She was filled with misgivings, but in the mass of contradictions she waded through, there seemed to be no other choice. When she spoke, her voice sounded faint and far away. “I…I'll need to take care of some things first.”

“Of course.” There was a glimmer of satisfaction in Logan's eyes. “When would you like me to arrange the wedding?”

“As soon as possible,” Julia said stiffly. “I would like this to be done right away.”

Logan approached her, his bluntly attractive features softening with concern. “Julia, if you want to change your mind—”

“No,” she interrupted, squaring her shoulders. “This is the right decision.”

“I agree.” He reached out and took hold of her upper arms, squeezing gently. “You'll find I'm a good friend, Julia. I wear well over time.”

She nodded and smiled in spite of the heavy feeling inside, as if a block of granite were lodged in her chest.

The next morning Julia received a note at the Bath Inn from her old friend and teacher Mrs. Florence. The elderly actress had come to town for reasons of health and social amusement, and was full of praise for Julia's performance in
My Lady Deception
. Mrs. Florence extended an invitation to meet in the Pump Room during the fashionable morning hour, and Julia didn't hesitate to comply. It had been several months since she visited the elderly woman in London, despite the fact that they lived on the same street. Time had a way of slipping by much too quickly, and Julia felt guilty for not having made a point of going to see her friend.

When she arrived at the Pump Room, Julia was pleased to see that Mrs. Florence appeared as vibrant as ever, her faded red hair arranged in stylish coils on top of her head, her face filled with keen intelligence. She wore her age gracefully, like a marble statue that had been gently weathered and mellowed by time. Seated at a small table with a glass of mineral water before her, Mrs. Florence listened to the music provided by a nearby string quartet. As soon as she saw Julia, her eyes brightened expectantly.

“Mrs. Florence,” Julia exclaimed, sincerely glad to see her. It was providential that her mentor should have come to Bath at precisely the moment she needed her. She sat in the chair beside her, and took the elderly woman's soft, finely wrinkled hands in hers. Mrs. Florence's fingers were adorned with a collection of substantial jewels, and a slim rope of pearls and garnets was wrapped around her wrist. “You look wonderful, as always.”

“It's been a long time since you came to call,” Mrs. Florence said in friendly reproof. “I finally realized I would have to travel to Bath to see you.”

Julia began to sputter with apologies and explanations, and gave her a lame smile. “I've been
very
busy. You can't imagine—”

“Oh, I believe I can,” Mrs. Florence interrupted dryly. “I'm not so old that I can't remember the demands made on a popular actress.” She regarded Julia fondly. “You may remove your veil, child. I can keep all of the admirers and curiosity-seekers at bay.”

Julia obeyed, lifting the veil from her small hat, aware of the sudden wave of interest that passed through the room and the gazes that fastened on her. A pair of plump women with excited expressions immediately rose to approach the table. Expertly Mrs. Florence lifted her cane, which had been hooked around the back of her chair, and raised it as if to poke them away. “Another time,” she told them firmly. “My young friend and I are having a private conversation.”

Cowed, the women retreated and muttered complaints under their breath, while Julia suppressed an admiring laugh. “You're a tigress, Mrs. Florence.”

The elderly woman waved away the praise. “I blessed the day when I could finally be rude to people and have them excuse me because of my age.” She returned Julia's smile. “You're maturing into a splendid actress, Jessica. I was so pleased and proud to see you on stage last night, and to think that I might have had some small part in your success.”

“I owe everything to you, for your advice and guidance, and for the way you encouraged me to join the Capital players.”

“It seems you've achieved everything you dreamed of,” Mrs. Florence remarked with a vaguely quizzical look. “Why is it that you don't look happy, my dear?”

Ruefully Julia realized that her friend knew her too well to be fooled by facades. She settled back in her chair and sighed. “Do you remember the conversation we had years ago, when you told me that you hadn't married the man you loved because he wanted you to leave the theater? You implied that I might someday face the same dilemma, and I didn't believe you.”

“And now you do,” Mrs. Florence said, immediate understanding gleaming in her eyes. “It gives me no satisfaction to be proven right, Jessica. I wouldn't have wished this for you—it's a very peculiar sort of pain, isn't it?”

Julia nodded, suddenly unable to speak. Her chest and throat felt unbearably tight.

“I assume he proposed to you,” Mrs. Florence remarked. “What was your reply?”

“I…broke off our relationship. And then last night I received a proposal from another man…from Mr. Scott.”

Mrs. Florence looked intrigued. “Is he in love with you?”

“No, it's nothing like that. He described it as a marriage of convenience.”

“Oh, I see.” Mrs. Florence laughed softly. “Your Mr. Scott's ambitions know no limits, do they? If you left the Capital, there would be a difficult vacancy to fill. However, with you as his wife, he could build his acting company into something extraordinary…and he's willing to marry you in order to ensure it. The question is, are you willing to sacrifice the other man—the one you love—for the sake of your profession?”

“
You
did,” Julia pointed out.

Mrs. Florence pinched her nose shut and took a sip of bitter mineral water. “I also told you that I regretted my actions,” she said, using a lace handkerchief to dab at the corners of her mouth.

“If you could make the choice all over again—”

“No,” Mrs. Florence interrupted gently but firmly. “Once the decision is made, it won't do to look back. Proceed in the direction you've chosen, whatever it may be, and tell yourself it's all for the best.”

Julia threw her a pleading glance. “If only you would advise me, as you've done so often before—”

“I'll dispense all the advice about acting you could ever require, but not about your personal life. I can't make such a decision for you. And I don't care to think about what I might have done differently. The past can't be changed.”

Julia made a face, realizing just how much she had hoped that Mrs. Florence would tell her what to do. “There's only one thing I'm certain of,” she said glumly. “It will be safer to follow my head rather than my heart.”

“Indeed.” The older woman regarded her with a mixture of amusement and sympathy. “At all costs we must be safe, mustn't we?”

William strode into the parlor of his St. James terrace apartment, where his butler had just shown Lady Ashton. It was no surprise that Pauline had come to call at this late hour in the evening. Immediately upon William's return to London, he had made it known among the appropriate social circles that he would be staying at his town residence for a while. In addition, he had hinted broadly that he was at a loss for sorely needed female companionship. Like a fly to honey, Pauline had wasted no time in descending on him.

Pauline was standing at the window, expertly displaying her spectacular silhouette. In a practiced move, she turned to face him with the hint of a smile on her red lips. She was strikingly beautiful in a burgundy velvet dress that blended in rich harmony with the masculine colors of the room. The bodice was cut very low, revealing an inch or two more of her smooth white breasts than was tasteful. The effect was stimulating, to say the least.

“Lady Ashton…what a surprise,” William murmured, crossing the room to her outstretched hands.

“Lord William,” she purred, wrapping her fingers around his. “I had to see you right away. I hope you don't mind. I'm so terribly distraught.”

He looked into her face with a show of concern. “But why, Lady Ashton?”

All of a sudden there was a glimmer of moisture in her dark eyes. “You must call me Pauline. Surely we've known each other long enough for that.”

“Pauline,” he repeated obediently. “Won't you sit down?”

Reluctantly she released his hands and went to the sofa, spreading her skirts across the slick damask.

“A drink?” William offered. At her nod, he went to pour each of them some wine, and sat on the other end of the sofa. Pauline held the wine glass in her long fingers, toying with the shape of it, delicately tracing the stem and the rim.

“I hope I haven't interrupted your plans for the evening,” she said, staring at him intently.

“Nothing to interrupt,” he assured her.

“You look lonely, poor boy.” Her voice softened to a throaty whisper. “I happen to be lonely as well.” Her sleek head came to rest on his shoulder, causing him to shift uncomfortably.

“Lady Ashton…Pauline…please don't think I'm unsympathetic, but to someone with a suspicious mind, this situation would seem rather compromising. I owe my brother a certain amount of loyalty—”

“Your brother is the reason I'm distraught,” she interrupted, smoothing the fabric of William's coat before settling her cheek on his shoulder. “I can't bear to talk of what is owed to
him
, when he apparently thinks nothing is owed to
me
. There is no one I can trust with my innermost feelings, except you. You wouldn't be so heartless as to turn me away, would you?”

William squirmed uncomfortably. “I can't interfere in the relationship between you and Damon—”

“I don't want you to interfere,” she said, her hand beginning a slow stroking of his chest. “All I want is a friend. Is that too much to ask of you, William? Your brother hasn't been very kind to me of late. Can you imagine what it is like to be a woman in my position? I need some companionship.”

“Surely you can get that from someone other than me.”

“No one is able to offer me what you can, William.”

“But my brother—”

“Damon is gone for now. He doesn't care what I do in his absence, as along as I'm available when he wants me. And he's made no claim on me…you know that. Come, William, you're a man of the world. There's nothing wrong with two friends spending time with each other in private.”

Before he could reply, she leaned over him and crushed her red lips on his. Her small hands swarmed hungrily over his body, while her exotic scent surrounded him in an invisible cloud.

“Pauline,” he yelped, flinching as she sought between his thighs with tightly grasping fingers.

“It's all right,” she muttered, levering her body over his. “We won't tell anyone. Haven't you wondered what it would be like with me, William? I'll give you pleasure beyond anything you could imagine. Don't worry about your brother. You must be jealous of him—anyone in your position would be. He's the firstborn, he has all the money and influence. You deserve a taste of what he's had…and I'm going to give it to you.” Aggressively she pulled his hand to her breast. “Yes, touch me,” she purred. “Touch me everywhere…take me to your bedroom…oh, William…”

As she twisted herself around him, a shadow crossed Pauline's face, and her heavy lashes lifted a fraction. Suddenly her eyes flew open, and she turned white with astonishment as she beheld Damon standing before them. His eyes were cold, his expression as hard as marble.

The moment was fraught with tension until Pauline shoved William away in a decisive motion. She jerked at her bodice in a futile effort to cover her ample breasts. Her gaze returned to Damon's, and her voice trembled as she spoke. “I'm sorry you had to see this, darling. It must pain you to witness your younger brother trying to take advantage of me.”

A cynical smile touched Damon's lips. “I heard everything, Pauline.”

William leaped from the sofa and pulled at his cravat and coat, looking for all the world like an outraged virgin. “I was wondering how damned long you were planning to let it go on,” he said, giving Damon a dark frown.

“You planned this?” Pauline asked in building fury, looking from one to the other. “The two of you conspired to trick me?” She confronted Damon with her fists clenched. A wrathful flush covered her face. “You have no decency! I will not be manipulated or deceived, you bastard!”

Suddenly Damon burst into uproarious laughter. “
You
won't be manipulated?”

“That's right. You owe me for all the months we spent together, for the use of my body and the way you misled me—”

“I paid for the use of your body, overpriced as it was,” Damon informed her, a gleam of laughter lingering in his eyes. “As for your being misled…you'll have to explain, since it's not precisely clear to me.”

“You let me believe that you would take responsibility for this baby!”

“There is no baby, though not for your lack of trying.”

“I was doing it for
us
,” she said vehemently. “You know we're a good match, Damon. You know I'm the best you'll ever have, and that we're right for each other—”

“I know you were planning to foster my brother's bastard on me,” Damon said softly. “That was a master stroke, Pauline, though hardly flattering to William or me.”

“I would have succeeded. I only miscalculated how much under your thumb he is.” She cast a baleful glance at William. “You have no will of your own, do you?” she asked spitefully. “You'll spend your entire life living in your older brother's shadow—”