Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(20)

“Sometimes,” Julia admitted. She stared into her own cup of tea, her gaze fixed on the amber depths. “But I usually manage to save those feelings and use them on the stage.”

“Maybe I should try that,” Arlyss said. “After all, the men I entertain are merely substitutes for the one I really want.”

Julia gave her a half-pitying, half-amused glance, knowing exactly whom Arlyss was referring to. “You know Mr. Scott's rule about actresses. Besides, I don't see the reason for your infatuation with him.”

“It's more than infatuation! It's undying love. I can't believe any woman wouldn't feel that way about him!”

“Mr. Scott is far from the perfect man,” Julia said sourly. “Good heavens, I just told you about the way he's forced me to have supper with Lord Savage! Mr. Scott may seem like a man of grand principles, but at heart he's nothing but a money-grubber.”

Arlyss airily waved the comment away. “All men have flaws. Besides, he was right—five thousand pounds is nothing to turn up your nose at.” She chewed thoughtfully on a slice of dry cake, and followed it with more tea. “I've heard that there is a woman living at Mr. Scott's house this very moment—his latest paramour. She'll last no longer than six months…they never do. There must be some reason Mr. Scott is so opposed to the idea of marriage! Something must have happened in his past…something dark and painful…”

Julia snorted at her friend's dreamy expression. “Really, Arlyss, you have too many romantic illusions. I would think that a life in the theater should have cured you of that.”

“No, it only makes it worse! When you spin romantic illusions for other people all the time, you can't help but be caught up in them.”

“I don't.”

“You're made of iron,” Arlyss said. “I don't know whether to envy or pity you.” She leaned forward, her green eyes sparkling with interest. “Tell me…what are you going to wear when you dine with his lordship?”

“Something plain and unbecoming.”

“No, no, no…wear something to make his eyes drop out! Something to make his mouth turn dry and his head spin and his heart pound—”

“As if he had some horrible disease,” Julia said with a laugh.

“You must wear your black and pink gown,” Arlyss urged. “I won't allow you to choose anything else.”

“I'll consider it.” Julia looked up as a member of the house staff appeared at the greenroom door to inform them that Mr. Scott desired their presence onstage.

After days of exacting rehearsal, the Friday performance of Taming of the Shrew went superbly. As Logan had directed, Julia threw all her energy into the boisterous production. In previous adaptations the story had been watered down to something resembling a drawing room comedy, with much of the ribald humor removed. Logan Scott had restored all of that, and added a robust physicality that both startled and pleased the audience. It was a lusty, vigorous play that made some critics howl with displeasure and others with delight.

With Logan playing the dashing Petruchio to Julia's devilish Katherine, the audience roared with laughter at their volcanic battles, and sat spellbound during some of the quieter, tender moments. Unfortunately, at the end of the production, Julia was battered and sore. The play called for many physical antics, including one bit in which Katherine tried to attack Petruchio, and he swung her off her feet like a rag doll. In spite of Logan's efforts to be careful with her, Julia was not surprised to find a few faint bruises on her arms and torso.

Ignoring all entreaties for her attention, Julia locked her dressing room door, washed the sweat and paint from her face, and used two pitchers of water in a thorough sponge bath. After dabbing perfume on her throat and inner elbows and between her br**sts, she turned her attention to the gown she had brought with her. As Arlyss had insisted, she had decided on her favorite evening gown. It was fashioned of jet-black Italian silk, the surface glossy and finely corded. One deep pink silk rose adorned each short, gathered sleeve. The gown's only other adornments were the vertical slashes of pink at the hem, opening and closing rhythmically in billowy swaths as she walked.

After dressing carefully, Julia left the back fastenings undone and regarded herself in the mirror. A faint smile came to her face. No matter how she felt inside, it was reassuring to know that she looked her best. The black silk provided a dramatic contrast to her pale skin and ash-blond hair, while the touches of rose-pink echoed the color in her cheeks.

“Mrs. Wentworth,” came her maid's voice through the door. “May I come in an' see to your things?”

Julia unlocked the door to let the plump, dark-haired girl inside. Betsy was an efficient servant, taking care of her costumes, keeping the dressing room orderly, and assisting her with a multitude of small tasks. “Will you fasten my gown, please?”

“Yes, Mrs. Wentworth. I've brought some more flowers.”

“You may keep them if you like,” Julia said nonchalantly. The dressing room was already filled with floral arrangements and their cloying perfume.

“Oh, but these are so beautiful! Just have a look,” Betsy coaxed, bringing forth the massive arrangement.

Julia exclaimed in pleasure as she saw the profusion of lush roses ranging from palest pink to crimson-red, interspersed with exotic orchids and tall spikes of vivid purple and white delphinium. “Who sent them?” she asked.