Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(11)

Julia smiled ruefully as she regarded the portly, red-cheeked older gentleman. She glanced back at Logan, who was striking in a black evening coat, an emerald silk waistcoat, and close-fitting cream trousers. His hair shone like polished mahogany beneath the light of the chandeliers. Although everyone else was here for social reasons, Logan regarded the event as an opportunity for business. He would use his good looks and charm to solicit funds for the Capital—and as always, he would be successful. Almost everyone wanted to associate with a man who was perceived as one of the greatest artists the London stage had ever known.

To Julia's surprise, she had quickly achieved her own popularity in the theater, giving her a social standing that was considered significant for an actress. She commanded a high salary, which had enabled her to purchase a house on Somerset Street, only a few doors away from her former teacher Mrs. Florence. The elderly woman took a personal pride in Julia's success and welcomed her eagerly whenever Julia had the opportunity to visit for tea and a long chat.

Wishing she were with Mrs. Florence right now, rather than wasting her time mingling with people who considered themselves superior to her, Julia sighed softly. “I don't like these large gatherings,” she said, more to herself than to Logan.

“It doesn't show. You move among these people as if you were born to it.” Idly Logan brushed a bit of lint from his sleeve. “You would do well to recruit Lord Lansdale—the short one by the refreshment table…and Lord Russell, who's recently come into a handsome patrimony. A warm smile and a little encouragement might convince him to become a patron of the arts.”

“I hope this is my last weekend party for a while. It makes me uncomfortable to flatter rich old men in hopes of attracting their money to the theater. Perhaps the next time you could bring Arlyss or one of the other actresses—”

“I don't want one of the others. You're as effective at these gatherings as you are on stage. In two years you've become the Capital's greatest asset—aside from me, of course.”

Julia smiled impishly. “Why, Mr. Scott, if you continue to praise me, I may ask for a higher salary.”

He snorted. “You won't get another shilling from me. You're already the highest paid actress I know of.”

His glowering expression made her laugh. “If only people knew that the man who wooed me so passionately on stage—and won me a thousand times as Romeo, Benedick, and Mark Antony—only concerns himself offstage about shillings and business matters. You may be quite a romantic figure to the ladies of London, but you have the soul of a banker, not a lover.”

“Thank God for it. Now go and charm the gentlemen I pointed out—oh, and don't forget that one.” Logan nodded toward a dark-haired man standing in a small group only a few yards away. “He's managed his family's estates and investments for the last few years. At the rate he's going, he'll someday be one of the richest men in England. You would do well to persuade him to take an interest in the Capital.”

“Who is he?”

“Lord Savage, the Marquess of Savage.” Logan gave her a brief smile and left to mingle with some acquaintances.

Lord Savage, the Marquess of Savage. Julia was still and silent with confusion. Her brain was suddenly slow to work. She wondered if she had heard correctly. It seemed odd to hear the name and title fall from Logan Scott's lips, odd to know that after all her fearful and outraged imaginings, the object of her resentment was a living, breathing man. Her past had finally come crashing headlong into her present. If only she could find a way to disappear…but instead she could only stand there, trapped out in the open. She was afraid that if she did move, she wouldn't be able to keep from bolting like a hunted fox.

Somehow she hadn't expected her husband to be handsome, as splendidly dark and elegant as a foreign prince. He was a tall man with a quietly powerful presence. Beneath a black coat, an amber-and-gray-striped waistcoat, and charcoal trousers, the broad, sloping spread of his shoulders tapered to a slim waist and hips. His features were austere and perfect, his gaze devoid of emotion. He was a startling contrast to the men she usually associated with, men such as Logan and the other actors in the company, who earned their salaries with their expressive faces. This man seemed utterly inaccessible.

As if he sensed her presence, he glanced in her direction. A questioning frown touched his brow, and his head tilted slightly in concentration. Julia tried to look away, but he wouldn't let her, his gaze locked steadily on her face. Filled with sudden panic, she turned and began to walk away in controlled strides. However, it was too late. He cut across her path and reached her, forcing her to stop or risk bumping into him.

Julia's heart thumped painfully in her chest. She lifted her gaze and stared into the most extraordinary eyes she had ever seen, cool gray and ruthlessly intelligent, framed by black lashes so long that they had tangled at the outside corners.

“You look familiar to me.” Although his voice lacked the rich, winelike clarity of Logan Scott's voice, it held a pleasantly husky undertone.

“Do I?” Julia could barely force the words from her numb lips. “Perhaps you've seen me on stage.”

He continued to stare at her, while all she could think was You're my husband…my husband…

Damon was puzzled by the young woman who stood before him. The music and colorful profusion of the ball seemed to recede in the background as he studied her face. He knew they had never been introduced—God knew he would never forget a woman like her—but there was something disturbingly familiar about her. She was slim and cool in her pale blue gown, holding herself with a regal poise that would not admit any hint of uncertainty. Her face seemed more like an artist's creation than something belonging to a real woman, hauntingly lovely with cheekbones angled deeply over the soft curves of cheek and jaw. Most remarkable of all were her blue-green eyes…they could have belonged to a fallen angel, virginal, soft, and yet sadly familiar with the ways of the wicked world.