Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(34)

He had battled with the same feelings all these years—it was only that they had reacted differently to their circumstances. Julia had relinquished everything, her reputation, her security, and even her name. He, on the other hand, had assumed his father's position as head of the family, determined to control not only his own life but the lives of everyone around him.

Keeping his gaze on Lady Hargate's face, Damon felt an unwilling touch of pity for her. She seemed to be a kind woman, but ill-equipped to deal with her domineering husband and willful daughter. Lady Hargate stared at him questioningly, seeing that something had changed in his expression.

“I realize that Julia doesn't want to be found,” Damon said with forced calm, “but this has gone on for too long. I have obligations that you aren't aware of. There are important decisions I must make, and soon. I've waited years for Julia to appear. I can't wait any longer.”

Lady Hargate seemed flustered by his direct stare. “Yes, I understand. Lord Savage…if I can manage to send word to Julia, I will try to convince her to come to you.”

Before Damon could reply, a new voice entered the conversation. “You will not!”

They looked up in unison at the man who entered the room…and Damon stood to confront his father-in-law, Lord Hargate.

“Edward!” Eva said, her complexion turning chalky with dismay. “I-I didn't expect you to return so early.”

“How fortunate that I did,” her husband replied, his face wreathed in brittle hauteur. “You should have refused to receive Lord Savage, my dear, until I was available to see him.”

“I couldn't turn away Julia's husband…”

Edward Hargate ignored his wife's feeble protests and exchanged a long stare with Damon. The past two years had aged him greatly, turning his iron-colored hair into a distinctive silver-streaked mane. A web of fine lines had not softened his lean face, but had given it the appearance of time-weathered granite. His eyes were as small and black as olives, shaded by thick, unruly brows. He was a tall man with not an ounce of fat to spare, a man who clearly made stringent demands on himself as well as others.

“To what do we owe the pleasure of your unexpected visit?” he asked Damon in a voice saturated with sarcasm.

“You already know,” Damon said curtly.

“You shouldn't have come. I believe I've made it clear that you will learn nothing about my daughter from us.”

Damon kept his face inscrutable, in spite of the growing fury that spread through him. He wanted to leap on the older man and wipe the smug superiority off his face. Obviously Hargate felt no remorse for anything he had done, no matter whom he had hurt.

“This situation isn't of my making,” Damon said in a low voice. “I have a right to know what has become of Julia.”

The older man laughed harshly. “You don't want to know about the shame she has brought on all of us…herself, her family, and even you, her husband. Do what you wish about her—just don't mention her name in my presence.”

“Edward,” Eva said pitifully, her voice breaking. “I don't understand why things must be this way—”

“She chose this, not I,” he said sharply, seeming unmoved by the tear that trickled down his wife's thin cheek.

Julia had been frozen in the next room, flattened against the wall by the door as she listened to the meeting between Lord Savage and her parents. Her instinct for survival prompted her to flee, she felt terribly vulnerable, as if one harsh word from her father would cause her to shatter. She was terrified to face him. But the need to see him, and force him to recognize her presence, drove her to act. Before she was aware of what she was doing, she launched herself through the doorway and strode into the receiving room.

At the sight of her daughter, Eva gasped in dismay. Lord Savage showed no reaction, save a sudden clenching of his jaw. Edward seemed thunderstruck by her appearance.

Coming to stand by her mother, Julia slid a hand over her mother's narrow shoulder. Perhaps it appeared to be a gesture of comfort, but in truth it was to give herself strength. The frailty of her mother's bones beneath her hand, and the knowledge that her father had contributed to Eva's unhappiness, whipped Julia's anger to new heights.

“How dare you show your face here!” her father exclaimed.

“Believe me, I wouldn't if there were any other way to see Mama.”

“The two of you have been conspiring against me!”

Julia stared at him, noting the changes that time had made in him, the new lines on his face, the silver of his hair. She wondered if he could see that she had altered as well, that she had lost her sweet girlish softness and had now become a woman. Why had he been incapable of the fatherly tenderness she had always longed for? A few words of kindness from him, an expression of pride in her accomplishments, might have changed the course of her life. She wished to rid herself of the need for his love, had tried ever since she had left him…but something in her stubbornly refused to relinquish the last vestiges of hope.

The humiliating sting of tears rose to her eyes, and she willed them not to fall. “I was never able to please you,” she said, staring at her father's stony face. “Is it any wonder that I finally stopped trying? No one is ever able to suit your high standards.”

“You're claiming that I expected too much of you,” her father remarked with a lift of his craggy brows. “All I ever asked was for your obedience. I hardly think that unreasonable. In return I gave you luxury, education, and, God forgive me, a well-titled husband.”