Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(35)

“Do you know why I became an actress? Because I used to spend all my time imagining what it would be like if you loved me, if you cared a whit about what I thought and felt. I became so good at pretending that I couldn't live any other way.”

“Don't blame me for your failings!” Edward cast a scathing glance at Damon. “I find it an amusing irony to see how perfect the two of you are for each other—both rebellious and ungrateful. Well, I won't interfere in your life again—and you will not interfere in mine. I forbid either of you to return here.”

Instinctively Damon moved forward to stop the argument. But as he approached Julia, she jerked away with a startled sound and gave him a look of helpless appeal that stunned him. In that moment he realized that he understood her, perhaps more than anyone else ever would. She possessed the same futile combination of pride and longing that had driven him his entire life. She wanted to be loved, but she was terrified of surrendering her heart to someone else's keeping.

Damon's hand twitched at his side. He was on the verge of reaching for her, taking her away from the ugly scene. Words hovered on his lips, things he had never said to a woman before. Come with me…I'll take care of everything…I can help you. Before he could make a move, Julia turned and fled the room, her back straight and her fists clenched. After her exit, the room became eerily silent. Damon turned to observe that Lord Hargate seemed unmoved by the scene.

“Whatever my faults,” Hargate said, “I never deserved a child like her.”

A sneer pulled at Damon's lips. “I agree. She's far too good for you.”

Hargate gave a disdainful huff. “Kindly remove your presence from my household, Savage.” He gave a warning glance to his wife, indicating that the matter was far from over, and left the room in a few imperious strides.

Damon went to Lady Hargate, who had begun to look rather ill. He crouched by her chair. “Shall I call for a servant?” he asked. “Is there something you require?”

She responded with a bobbing shake of her head. “Please,” she said in a faltering voice, “you must try to help Julia. She may seem very strong, but underneath—”

“Yes, I know,” he murmured. “Julia will be all right. You have my word.”

“How sad that it should come to this,” she whispered. “I always hoped that someday the two of you would find each other, and then … ”

“And then?” he asked, his brows drawing together.

She smiled faintly at her own foolishness. “And then you might have discovered that you were right for each other, after all.”

Damon repressed a sardonic snort. “That would have been a convenient resolution…but I'm afraid things aren't that simple.”

“No,” she said, looking at him sadly.

Julia entered her small house on Somerset with a mixture of panic and relief. She wanted to hide in her bed under the covers and find some way to erase today from her memory. As her housemaid Sarah approached, Julia instructed her not to admit any callers for the rest of the evening. “I don't want to see anyone, no matter how important it may seem.”

“Yes, Mrs. Wentworth,” the dark-haired maid said, accustomed to Julia's desire for solitude. “Shall I be helping you with your things, ma'am?”

“No, I'll undress myself.”

After snatching a glass and a bottle of wine from the kitchen, Julia ascended the narrow flight of stairs that led to her bedroom. “My God, what have I done?” she muttered to herself. She should never have confronted her father—it had accomplished nothing, except that now Lord Savage knew who she was.

She wondered if Savage was angry with her. Yes, he must be…he must think that she had been trying to make a fool of him. What if he decided to retaliate? Julia sipped furtively at the wine. She would let several days pass before she faced Savage. By then his anger would have cooled, and perhaps they could have a rational discussion.

Moving like a sleepwalker, Julia entered the solitude of her bedroom. The walls were covered with a delicate print of sage and rose, complementing the large four-poster bed with its fluttering canopy of cool, pale green. The only other pieces of furniture in the room were a satinwood armoire and dressing table, and a chaise longue with a gilded frame and champagne velvet upholstery. A few framed engravings of actors and play scenes hung on the walls, as well as an original page of one of Logan Scott's plays, his gift to her after her first success at the Capital.

She moved around the room, taking comfort in the familiar objects, possessions she had provided for herself. No trace of her past was here, no unpleasant reminders…only the safety and privacy of being Jessica Wentworth. If only she could have the past day to live over! What self-destructive impulse had caused her to reveal her identity to Lord Savage?

She remembered the way he had looked at her just before she had left the Hargate estate. His gaze had seemed to pierce through her, and it had seemed that her every thought and emotion was clear to him. She had felt as helpless as a child, all her secrets revealed, her defenses destroyed.

Julia sat at her dressing table and finished the wine in a few gulps. She wouldn't let herself think about Savage anymore…she needed to sleep, and prepare herself to face the rehearsal tomorrow for Logan's new play. She couldn't let her professional life suffer because of her private problems.