Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(4)

Julia did mind, actually. It was much more difficult to play a scene in front of a very small group than a large one. And these people were actors, the most critical audience of all. They would mock her for wanting to be part of the Capital—they would see immediately that she'd had no training, and precious little experience. But she had come too far to retreat now. Julia forced a smile to her face, and unlocked her knees in order to join the young man at the center of the greenroom.

In appearance, Charles was not the ideal Lord Aversley—he seemed rather too bland and handsome for the role of a consummate villain. On the other hand, he possessed an air of self-assurance that impressed Julia. She had no doubt of his ability to play convincingly any character he chose.

“Mathilda is a tricky role to choose for an audition,” Logan Scott remarked. It was unclear if he was speaking to Julia or the others in the room. “The part of a long-suffering heroine is usually tiresome.”

Julia nodded gravely, staring at his imperturbable face. “I shall endeavor not to be boring, Mr. Scott.”

There was a twitch of amusement at the corners of his mouth. “Begin when you're ready, Mrs. Wentworth.”

Julia nodded and stared at the floor in concentration, preparing herself for the scene. The story of Mathilda had brought fame to its author, S. R. Fielding, two short years ago, first in the form of a novel and then as a smashing success on the stage. The public was fascinated by the tale of an ambitious country girl's descent into prostitution, and her eventual redemption. The scene Julia had chosen was a pivotal one in which Mathilda, still a virgin, was seduced by the diabolical rake Lord Aversley.

Julia glanced up at Charles, and she began to speak in a rough country accent. He responded in the pure, aristocratic tones of Aversley. With each line, Julia felt herself sinking deeper into the character. She became half-flirtatious, half-fearful, advancing and retreating as Aversley slowly pursued her around the room.

Logan concentrated on the girl, all his senses arrested. Although she was a small woman, a little below average height, her slenderness gave her the illusion of being taller. With her ash-blond hair, brilliant blue-green eyes and delicately angled face, she was too pretty, actually. It was rare to find a woman of such unassailable beauty who was also a proficient actress. Truly beautiful women never seemed to have the emotional depth or drive to play anything other than an ingenue.

Less than a minute after the scene had begun, Logan realized that Jessica Wentworth had a remarkable presence, the kind that made the hair on the back of his neck prickle. She had the gift of transforming herself into the character she played. He knew without vanity that he possessed the same ability, and that on occasion one or two of the players in the company could achieve it. But such a talent was rare in a girl who couldn't be more than twenty.

Jessica Wentworth interpreted the character of Mathilda with seeming effortlessness. She was strangely touching, with a child's curiosity and a pitiable fascination for the man who would ruin her. And there was a thread of calculation in her manner, a smart and subtle understanding of Mathilda's misguided ambition to have a wealthy man in her power. Logan shook his head slightly, appreciating the fluid quality of her performance. He glanced at the other actors and saw that they were staring raptly at the newcomer.

Julia began to relax and enjoy the pleasure of working with an actor as accomplished as Charles. He made it surprisingly easy for her to believe he was Aversley as he sneered and stalked her from one side of the room to the other. However, she faltered and stopped in dismay as she heard Logan Scott's voice cut through the exchange of dialogue.

“I'll finish the scene with her, Charles.”

Startled, Julia watched as Scott stood from his chair and approached her. He motioned for Charles to sit down, and assumed his place. Julia was momentarily transfixed by the change that came over Logan Scott, the sudden crackling tension in the room, the flicker of blue fire in his eyes. He smiled at her slightly, and began speaking as Aversley. It was thrilling. Julia wanted to take a seat and just listen to the suppressed power of his voice. He gave the character of Aversley a catlike quality, a preposterous self-importance, and an unexpected hint of bitterness.

Adjusting the pitch of her performance to his, Julia responded as Mathilda, and for a few moment it was easy to lose herself in the role, forgetting who she was. Aversley toyed with Mathilda, lunged for her, promising pleasure and torment with his silky voice and his hot blue eyes. He gripped her arms, and Julia was startled by the genuine feeling of being trapped. She tried to wrench away, but he held her near, and spoke close to her mouth until his warm breath fanned her lips.

They were at the part of the play when Aversley kissed Mathilda and carried her offstage, leaving the rest of the action to the audience's imagination. Julia tensed in Logan Scott's arms, feeling utterly possessed by his hard grip. She thought briefly that he would kiss her, and was relieved when a mask dropped over his face and he released her carefully. The scene was over.

The others in the room were silent. Julia felt their gazes on her as she stepped back and rubbed the places on her arms where Scott had held her.

Noting her action, Scott turned toward her with an arched brow. “Did I hurt you?” he inquired with mild surprise.

Immediately Julia shook her head and let her hands drop. His hold hadn't been painful in the least, but his touch had seemed to linger even after he had let go.

There was a long pause after that, while the members of the company continued to stare at Julia, and Scott pinned her with a speculative look. Was he pleased, disappointed, uncertain? Did he think she had any merit as an actress? Julia was driven to break the silence. “Shall I try another scene?” she murmured. “Something from a different play?”