Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(17)

Their gazes met, blue eyes staring into steely gray. It was impossible for Damon to tell whether Scott was motivated by some fatherly feeling for Jessica Wentworth, or if his feelings crossed the threshold of actual jealousy. Scott spoke tonelessly. “I will not be responsible for urging Mrs. Wentworth into a situation that could be compromising or difficult for her—”

“All I want is to spend a few hours with her,” Damon said smoothly. “I give you my word that she will not be offended in any way. I would like you to persuade her to accept my invitation. If she doesn't, my donation to the Capital will still be given as promised.”

Scott hesitated for a long moment, then took another sip of wine. Being a worldly man, he understood that some concession was expected—necessary, in fact, regardless of Damon's assurances to the contrary. One supper was hardly too much to ask in return for five thousand pounds. “Very well. I'll discuss the matter with her.”

“Thank you.” Damon kept his face blank, but he felt as if he could draw a full breath for the first time since Jessica Wentworth had cast her spell over him. It would be done—Scott would convince her to meet with him, and he would have a few hours alone with her.

He must have gone insane. He wasn't behaving like himself at all. He was never moved by impulse—he calculated and planned his every action. But he would allow himself this temporary lapse, if only because he didn't seem to have a choice.

As he and Logan Scott parted company, Damon caught a glimpse of Jessica, who stood several yards away with her own group of admirers. Her accusing gaze was fixed on him as if she already knew what he had done.

“What did you say to him?” Pauline asked as soon as he returned to her and William. Clearly she was annoyed at having been abandoned even for a few minutes.

Damon shrugged and gave her a bland look. “I've decided to become a sponsor for the Capital.”

“You?” She gave him a skeptical glance.

“You never go to the theater unless you're knocked over the head and dragged there,” William commented. “Why the sudden interest in the Capital?”

“Yes, why?” Pauline asked, her mouth tight with suspicion.

“I want to broaden my interests,” Damon replied, the look in his eyes warning them both not to question him any further.

“What did he say to you?” Julia demanded as soon as she could separate herself from the guests and take Logan Scott aside for a private word.

Logan's eyes were pools of innocent blue. “Who?”

“Lord Savage,” she said between her teeth. “What did the two of you talk about? I saw the expression on your face—the look you always wear when someone offers you money.”

“Well, there you have it.” He smiled and opened his hands in an appealing gesture. “He's going to make a handsome donation to the Capital. Quite a generous fellow. Pleasant, gentlemanly—”

“Stop praising him and tell me what he wanted!”

“We'll discuss it later.”

Driven by fast-rising frustration, Julia caught his sleeve, her fingers digging into the fine, dark amber cloth of his coat. “Did he mention me?”

“Why do you ask that?” Logan's gaze delved into hers. “He did, as a matter of fact. What is going on between you?”

“Nothing,” she said immediately. “And nothing will. I have no interest in him at all.”

“That's unfortunate. Because I made him a promise of sorts.”

“You have no right to make any kind of promise involving me!” she said hotly.

“Quiet,” Logan murmured, mindful of the other guests nearby. “No one is going to force you to do anything. We'll talk later, when you've managed to control your emotions.”

Julia willed herself to stay calm, and released her clutch on his sleeve. “Tell me now, or I'll go mad.”

“Savage wants to have supper with you one evening.”

“No!”

“Before you refuse, let me remind you of a few facts. I pay you a higher salary than anyone in the company except myself. I spare no expense having costumes made for you of the best silks and velvets, and real jewels for you to wear. I surround you with some of the finest casts ever put on stage, and choose plays tailored to display your talents to the best advantage. I don't think that having one platonic dinner with Lord Savage would be too much of a trial for you, in return for the five thousand pounds he's donating to the theater.”

“Platonic dinner?” she sneered. “If you're going to become a pimp, Mr. Scott, you may as well be honest about it. I'm hardly naive.”

“No, merely ungrateful,” he said smoothly.

“I've worked hard for you the past two years—that is all my contract requires.”

“Any other actress in the company would accept Savage's invitation with pleasure.”

“Then send one of them in my place. Send them all!”

“Damn you,” Logan said softly. “Refuse Savage, if you must. But there will be a price to pay. You proved tonight that you deserve the leading part in My Lady Deception—but you won't get it, or any other parts you want this season, unless you accept Savage's invitation. And before you cry ‘unfair,’ remember that without the training I've given you, and my close attention to your career, you would probably be touring the provinces with a group of strolling players.”