Somewhere I'll Find You (28 page)

“That's enough,” William said, coming forward to take her by the arm. “Damned if I have to be insulted under my own roof.” He bundled her out of the room, while she spat and hissed like an enraged feline.

When William returned, he looked harassed and exhausted, and there was a distinct slap mark on his right cheek.

“Is she gone?”

“Yes, after giving me a parting shot.” William rubbed his cheek reflectively. “My God, she must be a tigress in bed. It's a wonder you weren't eaten alive. You're a better man than I, brother—I prefer my females a little more accommodating than that.”

“Thank God I'm finally rid of her,” Damon said, dropping into a chair and stretching out his legs.

William smiled as he beheld the weary relief on his brother's face. He went to the sideboard and poured two brandies. “I assume you're going to tell Julia right away?”

“Yes—although it's not going to solve the problems between us.”

“What problems could you possibly have now?”

Frowning, Damon took the drink that William offered him. “The last time I saw Father, he told me that no woman would ever be straitlaced enough to suit me. He was right. I've made it clear to Julia that I want her to play yet another role…the properly dependent and devoted wife, existing only to serve my needs.”

“I don't see what's wrong with that.”

Damon shook his head and groaned quietly. “Julia isn't like any other woman I've ever met. Unfortunately the very things that make her unique are also the obstacles to a peaceful marriage between us.”

“You want her to leave the theater for good,” William said rather than asked.

“I can't see any other way. God knows I can't live with the idea of my wife flaunting herself on stage in front of thousands of people. I've tried to imagine it—” Damon stopped and rubbed his temples. “I can't,” he said gruffly. “But neither can I stop wanting her.”

“Perhaps in time that will fade,” William said with an effort at diplomacy. “There are other women in the world, some of them every bit as beautiful and accomplished as Julia—and they would leap at the chance to sacrifice whatever was necessary in order to marry the future Duke of Leeds.”

“I don't want anyone else.”

“You and your women…” William shook his head and grinned. “You always pick the complicated ones. Thank God I'm a man with simple tastes. I assure you, my barmaids and lightskirts never give me the problems you've been having.”

Damon went to his London residence, intending to leave for Bath in the morning after a good night's rest. However, he was awakened in the predawn hours by his butler, who knocked with quiet insistence at the bedroom door until he sat up in bed. “What is it?” he grumbled.

The door opened a crack. “My apologies, my lord, but one of the footmen from Warwickshire was dispatched to bring you a letter. The matter is of some urgency. I assumed you would want to know immediately.”

Damon shook his head to clear the haze from his brain. “Know what?”

Entering the room with an oil lamp in hand, the butler set it on the night table and handed a sealed letter to Damon.

Blinking in the yellow light, Damon broke the wax seal and scanned the letter quickly. It was from his father's doctor. “Damn,” he said softly, and to his surprise, the parchment trembled in his hand.

The butler averted his eyes, though he wore a look of quiet understanding. “Do you wish to notify your brother, Your Grace?”

After a week of rapturously received performances of
My Lady Deception
, the play's success was being touted all over England. Theaters from Bristol to York were clamoring to be included among the Capital players' tour destinations. Critics had begun to call the character of Christine one of Jessica Wentworth's signature roles, one that only she could play with such artless perfection.

Julia found it ironic that the success she had dreamed of should prove to be far less fulfilling than she had expected. She felt alive only in the glow of the stage lighting, while every moment off the boards seemed flat and anticlimactic. Now she understood exactly how Logan felt about the theater. Because she had sacrificed everything else of value in her life, the illusions of the stage were all she had left.

Logan had offered to give Julia a grand wedding, but the thought of it made her uneasy. She asked him instead to arrange a private ceremony, and to keep their plans secret. She wasn't yet ready to offer explanations or face the surprise of friends and family when they learned of her decision to marry Logan. Not being the sentimental sort, Logan had readily agreed. In the meanwhile Julia had consulted with a lawyer who had confirmed everything her father had said. Any day now, Damon would receive the letter requesting the return of her dowry.

After the next-to-last performance of the play in Bath had been concluded, Julia sat in her dressing room and removed the paint and sweat from her face. Dully she stared into the looking-glass, wondering how to take away the numbness she felt inside.

“Jessica!” Arlyss burst into the dressing room without warning, her face glowing with excitement. “I had to see you at once. You'll be the first to know.”

Julia turned to her with a wan smile. “The first to know what?”

Arlyss's smile turned shy, and she extended her hand. “Michael just gave this to me.”

Still seated, Julia leaned close and looked at Arlyss's fourth finger, where a small diamond glittered on a narrow gold band. “Oh, my,” she breathed, and glanced up at her friend's face. “Does this mean—”

“Yes!” Arlyss beamed at her.

“It's very soon, isn't it?”

“It may seem so to others, but not to me. Michael is the only man who will ever love me like this, and I love him the same way.” Arlyss stared proudly at the ring and tilted her hand to make it glitter. “Isn't it pretty?”

“It's beautiful,” Julia assured her.

“He also gave me this.” Arlyss showed her half of a broken silver coin. “It's a tradition in the Fiske family to break a coin when a couple becomes engaged. Michael is keeping the other half. Isn't it romantic?”

Taking the coin from her friend, Julia looked at it closely, and her mouth curved in a bittersweet smile. “You're very lucky, Arlyss. It's a rare thing to be able to marry someone you love.”

Seeing the wistfulness on Julia's face, Arlyss leaned a hip against the dressing table and stared at her sharply. “What's the matter, Jessica? Are you having problems with your lover? Is it Lord Savage?”

“He's not my lover. At least not anymore. I've…” Julia hesitated and chose her words carefully. “I've made certain the relationship is over.”

“I don't understand why. He's handsome, rich, and he seems to be a gentleman—”

“I've realized that I have no future with him.”

“Even if that's true, why can't you just enjoy the affair while it lasts?”

“Because I'm going to…” Julia stopped abruptly, knowing that it would be extremely unwise to confide anything in Arlyss if she wished to keep it private. But she felt driven to tell someone. The unspoken words seemed to burn on her lips.

“What is it?” Arlyss asked, frowning in concern. “You can tell me, Jessica.”

Julia lowered her head and stared at her lap. “I'm going to marry Mr. Scott.”

Arlyss's eyes widened. “I can't believe it. Why in the world would you do that?”

All Julia could manage was a lame shrug in reply.

“You don't love him,” Arlyss continued. “Anyone can see that. Are you having financial troubles? Are you doing it for your career?”

“No, it…just seems the best choice.”

“You're making a mistake,” Arlyss said with certainty. “You don't belong with Mr. Scott. When were you planning to marry him?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“Thank God there's still time to call it off.”

Somehow Julia had thought that telling a friend about her decision might ease some of the depression and heaviness inside. Her hopes deflated rapidly as she realized that no amount of sympathy or well-intentioned objections would change the situation. “I can't do that,” she said softly, and gave the silver half-coin back to Arlyss. She picked up a damp cloth and wiped it over her cheeks, erasing the last smudges of rouge.

Arlyss contemplated Julia while her nimble mind raced from one speculation to another. “Oh, Jessica…you aren't pregnant, are you?”

Julia shook her head, her throat squeezing hard against an upswell of emotion. “No, no, it's nothing like that. It's just that I can't have the man I want, for too many reasons to explain. And if a life with him isn't possible, I might as well marry Mr. Scott.”

“B-but,” Arlyss spluttered, “you're the one who's always telling me to choose a man for love and no other reason! You told me—”

“I meant every word,” Julia said, her voice slightly hoarse. “Unfortunately some dreams aren't possible for everyone.”

“There must be something I can do to help.”

Reaching out to touch her friend's hand, Julia smiled at her fondly, her eyes glittering suddenly. “No,” she murmured. “But thank you, Arlyss. You're a dear friend, and I'm happy for you.”

Arlyss didn't reply, a preoccupied expression stealing over her face.

There was an unreal quality about the Duke of Leeds's private funeral, attended by only a few relatives and close friends. It was difficult for Damon to understand that his father had finally been laid to rest, that there would be no more of the endless arguments and frustrations and amusements his father had provided over the years. Glancing at his brother's tense face, Damon sensed that William was experiencing the same mixture of sadness and bewilderment.

After the coffin had been lowered into the cold autumn ground and the shovels of dirt landed on its glossy wooden surface, the mourners left to return to the castle and partake of refreshments. Damon and William followed at a slower pace, their long legs matched in a leisurely stride.

A breeze whipped through Damon's hair and, cooled his face as he stared at the gray-green landscape around them. He took comfort in the familiar sight of the castle, serene and stalwart as always, and he felt a flicker of pride that through his own efforts the estate had been kept in the family. Frederick had nearly lost everything for the Savages. Still, despite the duke's selfish whims and dangerous habits, there was no trace of satisfaction in his passing. Damon knew that he was going to miss his father…in fact, he already did.

“Father had a hell of a good time, didn't he?” William murmured. “He did whatever he pleased and damned the consequences. If he hasn't made it to heaven, I'll bet he's managed to tempt old Lucifer into a grand game of cards by now.”

Damon almost smiled at the image.

“I'm too much like him,” William continued bleakly. “I'll end up exactly as he did, alone and chortling over my past debaucheries, trying to pinch the housemaids as they pass by.”

“You won't,” Damon assured him. “I wouldn't let that happen.”

William expelled a deep sigh. “Precious little you've done to stop me so far. I have to take stock of my life, Damon. I've got to do something besides chase after lightskirts and spend my allowance on drink and clothes and horses.”

“You're not the only one who has to change.”

Upon hearing Damon's grim tone, William turned a surprised gaze on him. “Surely you're not referring to yourself? You're conscientious, responsible. You have no bad habits—”

“I'm overbearing as hell. I try to make everyone else fit into the patterns I've devised for them.”

“I've always assumed that's part of being the elder son. Some people would make a virtue of it.”

“Julia isn't one of those people.”

“Well, she's not the usual sort of female, is she?” William glanced at the castle before them, its dignified lines and great stone arches reflected in the silver lake below. “Can you imagine her living so far removed from the amusements of London?”

As a matter of fact, Damon could. It wasn't difficult to picture Julia riding with him through the hills and woods that surrounded the estate, her blond hair wind-tousled…or acting as hostess at a dance in the great hall, her slender figure illuminated by the massive chandeliers…or twining with him in the enormous bed in the east-facing bedroom, waking together as the sun rose.

Damon's mind was still filled with images of Julia as he and William entered the castle. Bypassing the crowd that was milling in the parlor and dining room, they headed to the library, where Mr. Archibald Lane awaited them. Lane was a lawyer Damon had employed for years to help oversee his affairs. Although somewhat retiring in manner and appearance, Lane was acutely intelligent. He was only slightly older than Damon, but his thinning hair and glasses gave him an appearance of quiet maturity.

“My lord…I mean, Your Grace…” Lane murmured as he shook Damon's hand. “I trust all is well with you? That is, as well as could be expected?”

Damon nodded and offered the lawyer a drink, which he declined. “I assume there are no surprises in my father's will,” Damon remarked, nodding at the neat sheaf of papers on the desk nearby.

“Nothing that appears to be out of the ordinary, Your Grace. However, before we attend to that, there is something…” An uneasy expression crossed Lane's narrow face. “Recently I received a copy of a letter which pertains to the matter of Mrs. Wentworth and the circumstances of your, er…marriage.”

Damon stared at him alertly.

“It seems that the union was invalid from the beginning,” the lawyer continued, “It should be regarded in the light of a betrothal that was never fulfilled. As such, Lord Hargate has requested the return of the dowry that was paid to the Savages.”

Damon shook his head, trying to comprehend what Lane had said.

“According to Hargate, his daughter Julia considers the both of you free of all obligations from now on.”

“I have to talk to her,” Damon heard himself mutter. Julia wanted to end all hope of a relationship between them. He had to convince her otherwise. “Damn her…she's my wife.” Although he knew that wasn't really true, he couldn't think of her in any other way. He loved her…he needed her.

“Your Grace,” the lawyer said, “you have no wife. By any legal definition, you never did.”