Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(41)

But Michael Fiske's normally cocky expression was gone today, and his manner seemed unusually hesitant. He stood in a shadow, holding a small, bulky package, his warm brown eyes beseeching. “Mrs. Wentworth,” he repeated, and Julia approached him.

“Yes, Mr. Fiske?” she asked with a touch of concern. “Is anything wrong?”

He shrugged his wide shoulders and clutched his package more tightly. “Not exactly. There's something I wanted to ask you…if you wouldn't mind…” He stopped with an explosive sigh, his good-looking face creased with doubt. “I shouldn't have bothered you. Please, Mrs. Wentworth, just forget—”

“Tell me,” she insisted with an encouraging smile. “It can't be all that bad.”

Looking tragically resigned, Fiske extended the paper-wrapped package to her. “Please give this to Miss Barry.”

She took the object from him and held it carefully. “Is it a gift for Arlyss? If you don't mind my asking, why can't you deliver it yourself?”

A flush covered his lean face. “Everyone knows you're the best friend Miss Barry has. She likes and trusts you. If you would give this to her, and speak to her for me—”

Understanding dawned on Julia. “Mr. Fiske,” she asked gently, “do you have a romantic interest in Arlyss?”

Hanging his head, he made a gruffly affirmative reply.

Julia was touched by his evident sincerity. “Well, that's no surprise. She's an attractive woman, isn't she?”

“She's the dearest, loveliest thing I've ever seen,” he blurted out. “She's so bloody wonderful that I can't bring myself to talk to her. When she's near, my knees turn to jelly, and I can't even breathe. And she doesn't even know I exist.”

Julia smiled sympathetically. “Knowing Arlyss as I do, I'm certain she would prefer it if you approached her yourself—”

“I can't. It's too important. I've thought about telling her how I feel, but…she might laugh or feel sorry for me…”

“No, I assure you she's not like that,” Julia said hastily. “Arlyss is very fortunate to have a man like you to care for her.”

He shook his head, crossing and uncrossing his arms. “I'm not a fine gentleman,” he said glumly. “I don't have fancy clothes or a grand home—and I've got few prospects. She won't want me.”

“You're a good man, and a wonderfully talented painter,” Julia said reassuringly, but inside she worried that he might be right. Arlyss had always been easily swayed by glittering promises and tempting presents. In the past few years she had gone through a string of jaded men who used her for their own selfish pleasures, and then discarded her with no remorse. And then there was Arlyss's hopeless crush on Logan Scott, who would certainly never give a thought to a relationship with her. Arlyss had made no secret of the fact that she was attracted to powerful men. If only she would fall in love with someone like Fiske, an earnest young man who might not ever be wealthy, but who respected and loved her.

“I'll give this to her,” Julia said decisively. “And I'll speak to her for you, Mr. Fiske.”

He managed to look relieved and despairing at the same time. “Thank you—although it's a hopeless cause.”

“Not necessarily.” Julia reached out to touch his shoulder consolingly. “I'll see what I can do.”

“God bless you, Mrs. Wentworth,” he said, and walked away with his hands crushed inside his pockets.

Wandering to'the greenroom, Julia found the other actors conducting their own rehearsal. She gave them all a shamefaced smile. “Mr. Scott wants you back on stage. I'm afraid I've put him in a royal temper. My apologies to everyone.”

“No need for apologies,” Mr. Kerwin assured her, his jowls swinging as he chuckled. “Everyone has a difficult day now and then, even a fine actress such as you, my dear.”

Julia smiled gratefully, and gestured to Arlyss as the others filed from the room. “Come here for just a moment—I have a gift for you.”

“For me?” Arlyss's brow puckered. “It's not my birthday.”

“It's not from me—it's from a secret admirer.”

“Really?” Looking pleased and flattered, Arlyss toyed with her mop of curls. “Who is it, Jessica?”

Julia held, out the package. “Open this, and see if you can guess.”

Giggling in excitement, Arlyss snatched the parcel and tore the paper with childish glee. After the layers of protective covering were demolished, both women stared at the offering in delight. It was a small, exquisite portrait of Arlyss costumed as the Comic Muse, with luminous skin, rosy cheeks, and a sweet smile curving her lips. The interpretation was idealized, her figure painted a bit slimmer than in real life, her eyes a little larger…but it was unquestionably Arlyss. The skill and talent of the artist were remarkable, resulting in a delicately shaded work that captured the joyous essence of its subject.

“How wonderful,” Julia murmured, thinking that Michael Fiske could have a future beyond mere scene painting.

Arlyss scrutinized the portrait with obvious pleasure. “It's too pretty to be me!…Well, almost.”

Carefully Julia touched the edge of the gilded frame. “Clearly it was painted by someone who loves you.”