Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(3)

His smile remained as he contemplated her. “If you wish, I'll show you the way.”

Julia nodded and cautiously preceded him through the doorway into a quiet, dim hallway. Relieved to be out of the rain, she brushed at her damp skirts and tried to straighten them. Politely her companion waited until she removed her dripping hat and cloak, and he took them from her. “We'll leave these in a spare dressing room to dry,” he said, opening a door and hanging the articles on the large brass hooks affixed to the wall. He removed his own hat and coat, and ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, trying to bring order to the short, wavy mass.

Julia smoothed her own dark hair, wishing she had a mirror to help restore her appearance.

“You look well enough,” the man said, as if reading her thoughts.

For the first time, Julia smiled at him tentatively. “I was hoping for something better than that.”

He shrugged. “Your looks won't matter as much as your acting skill.”

“Yes, of course.” She followed him down the hallway, past dressing rooms, offices, carpenter shops, and wardrobe rooms. The Capital Theatre was a large place, comprised of a main theater with four satellite buildings. It had never been regarded in the same light as the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane until Logan Scott had taken over its management. Under his brilliant direction, and driven by his powerful performances, the Capital had become one of the most respected theaters in town.

Although Logan Scott was still a young man in his twenties, he had already achieved a legendary status in the theater. The thought of actually meeting him made Julia's stomach flip-flop violently. If he decided that she had no talent, her career would be finished.

“How long have you been with the company?” Julia asked, her nervousness increasing as they went deeper into the building. They passed workmen in the hallway, and turned a corner where actors' voices could be heard in the practice rooms.

“Since it began four years ago,” her companion replied.

“You're very fortunate to be working with Mr. Scott.”

“Am I?” he asked dryly. “He has quite a temper, you know.”

“That can be forgiven in such a brilliant artist. Mr. Scott is the greatest actor in England. Everyone calls him the new David Garrick.”

A sardonic snort escaped him. “I think that's an overstatement.”

Julia glanced at him in surprise. “Aren't you an admirer of Mr. Scott?”

“Occasionally, yes. I just don't happen to think he's comparable to Garrick. Not yet, at any rate.”

Julia shrugged. “Since I've never actually seen him on stage, I'll have to reserve judgment.”

They reached the greenroom, which was not actually green, and Julia clutched her papers tightly as she stepped inside. The large cream-painted room was filled with well-worn chairs and settees, battered tables, and a tray piled with bread, smoked meats, and cheese. Two women were seated in the corner, while a girl and a young man were rehearsing a scene on the other side of the room, pausing to laugh at some bit of awkward choreography. A portly older gentleman sat off to one side, reading a play and mouthing the lines silently.

At the sight of the new arrivals, they all looked up. Immediately they came forward to Julia's companion, crowding around him until Julia was nudged aside. He fended off a torrent of questions and demands with upraised hands. “Later,” he informed them. “For now I have some business to attend to—an audition.”

Julia stared at him with wide eyes. Now that they were in the well-lit greenroom, she could see many of the details about him that had escaped her before. He was dressed in expensive, perfectly tailored clothes: dark trousers, a rich emerald vest, and a black silk cravat. She had never seen such beautiful hair on a man, unruly waves of brown that gleamed with burnished mahogany highlights. It was cut short and brushed back, but it had a rumpled appearance that practically begged a woman to smooth it.

His air of authority was unmistakable. That, and the compellingly deep timbre of his voice, and most of all those riveting blue eyes, convinced Julia of who he was. She felt her heart plummet to her feet, and she knew the color had left her cheeks. “You're Logan Scott,” she murmured. “You should have told me.”

His eyes gleamed with mischief and challenge. “You should have asked.”

She nodded in rueful acknowledgment, wondering if she had managed to ruin all chances of creating a favorable impression.

“And your name is…?” he prompted.

“Mrs. Jessica Wentworth,” Julia said, using the stage name she had invented for herself. The half-dozen people in the room stared at her curiously. She wanted to crawl away into some dark corner and hide.

“Very well, Mrs. Wentworth,” Logan Scott said softly. “Let's find out what you're capable of.” He held out one broad hand for the audition pieces she had brought, and casually riffled through the damp pages. “I see you've prepared a scene from Mathilda. Excellent. We had a long run of that play last season. Charles is quite familiar with it.” He gestured to the tall blond man a few feet away. “Would you mind taking the part of Lord Aversley, Charles?”

The young man obeyed with alacrity.

Scott seated himself comfortably, and the others followed suit. “If you don't mind, Mrs. Wentworth, we'll allow the other members of the company to watch your audition.”