Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(16)

A trickle of sweat ran beneath Damon's starched cravat. He took a deep breath, suddenly feeling as if his lungs would explode. It was insane, but he wanted to rush to the front of the room and tear her away from Logan Scott. It shocked him, his piercing awareness of her, the maddening craving to touch and smell and taste her. He had always been in control of himself and his circumstances, had insisted on it for as long as he could remember. No one had been allowed to have any power over him…not since he had realized long ago that his future had been sacrificed for Hs family's well-being. He had never wanted anyone with such unthinking desire, a feeling that engaged him body and soul and left no choice but pursuit.

The scene ended as Logan Scott bent over Jessica and gave her an impassioned kiss. Damon's hands curled into fists, while jealousy filled him in a poisoned rush. Applause resounded through the room as the guests exclaimed in delight. Smiling broadly, Logan Scott declined pleas for another scene, a monologue, something else to entertain them. Soon he and Jessica Wentworth were surrounded by admirers.

“A handsome pair,” Pauline observed, plying a fan of silk and lace to cool her face and throat. “This afternoon Mrs. Wentworth claimed that their relationship is strictly professional…but only a fool would believe that.”

Before Damon could reply, his younger brother William approached them, and obediently bowed over Pauline's gracefully proffered hand. “You look ravishing this evening, Lady Ashton—as usual.”

Pauline smiled flirtatiously. “How charming you are, Lord William.”

William turned to Damon, his blue eyes alight with enthusiasm. “Quite a good scene, wasn't it? I never thought there could be such a thing as a female Logan Scott—but Mrs. Wentworth is as superb as he is. I want to meet her, Damon.”

“She's a married woman,” Damon replied flatly.

“I don't care.”

Pauline laughed at William's youthful passion. “For a lad of your looks and blood, it shouldn't be difficult, dear boy. She's an actress, after all. Just be forewarned—she'll probably demand a fortune in jewels in return for her favors.”

“It would have to be a fortune to exceed your price, darling,” Damon said softly. Pauline gave him a haughty frown, while William smothered an impudent laugh. “Excuse me,” Damon continued, rising to his feet, “I want to have a word with Mr. Scott.”

“What for?” Pauline asked sharply, but he ignored her, making his way to Logan Scott, whose ruddy head was just visible over the crowd around him. Damon was filled with the most biting impatience he had ever known. He wanted to make everyone in the room disappear except for Jessica Wentworth.

As busy as he was, Scott didn't fail to notice him standing nearby. His blue eyes met Damon's, and though they had never been introduced, there was a gleam of recognition in them. Skillfully he managed to disengage himself from two or three simultaneous conversations, and approached Damon. Although he wasn't quite as tall as Damon, he was broad-shouldered and solid. Scott appeared to be a prosperous, supremely cultured man, his well-heeled image belying the rumors that he had been born as the son of a common fishmonger on the east side of London.

“Lord Savage,” Scott said, transferring a glass of wine from his right hand to his left in order to exchange a firm handshake, “I regret that we've never had the opportunity to meet before now.”

“Mr. Scott.” Damon returned the handshake. “I've long admired your talents.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Scott's mobile features arranged themselves in an expression of mild inquiry. “I hope you enjoyed the scene tonight. It is a small sample of the many worthy productions that will be shown at the Capital this season.”

“Yes, I did. In fact, I enjoyed it so much that I feel moved to make a contribution to the theater.”

“Ah.” A flash of satisfaction appeared in Scott's blue eyes, and he took a long sip of wine. “That would be very much appreciated, my lord.”

“I hope that five thousand pounds will be of help.”

At the mention of the sum, Scott nearly choked on his wine. Quickly regaining his composure, he regarded Damon with frank surprise. “As I'm certain you're aware, Lord Savage, that is an unusually generous donation. You have my deepest gratitude, as well as that of all the Capital players.” He paused, his gaze speculative. “However…I can't help but suspect you would want something in return for such a large sum.”

“I have one small request.”

“I thought so.” Scott raised his brows inquiringly.

“I would like Mrs. Wentworth to have supper at my estate one evening.”

Scott seemed unperturbed by the statement. Undoubtedly many men had shown such interest in Jessica Wentworth before. “And if she refuses?”

“The money is still yours.”

“That's a relief to hear, Lord Savage. Because Mrs. Wentworth is not a woman who can be bought, nor is she easily wooed. I can tell you about the scores of gentlemen who have failed with her. She doesn't seem to care about wealth or social position, and to my knowledge she has no desire for a man's protection. To be blunt, I would lay very steep odds against her accepting any kind of invitation from you.”

“Perhaps you have some influence with her,” Damon suggested softly. “I trust you will use it on my behalf.”