Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(48)

“I've found her,” Damon replied calmly, enjoying the astonishment on his brother's face. “I know where she's been hiding and exactly what she's been doing these past two years.”

William raked his hands through his black hair, disheveling the thick black locks. “My God, I can't believe…how did you find her? Have you spoken with her yet? Why didn't she—”

Damon lifted his hand in a silencing gesture. “Wait. You'll understand soon.”

Spluttering, shaking his head, William stared at the crowd around and below them, as if he expected Julia Hargate to leap out of her seat and announce herself.

The female singer concluded her performance, curtsying in thanks at the scattered applause she received. After she left the stage, the orchestra was silent for a minute as the musicians readied their next piece. They broke into a lively melody that heralded the beginning of the play. Gradually the house lights on the sides of the theater were dimmed. Waves of excitement rolled through the pit and galleries, while the applause and cries of anticipation spread to the boxes and proscenium seats.

Damon imagined Julia waiting in some offstage area, listening to the eager roar of the crowd, knowing what they desired and expected of her. It filled him with a strange mixture of pride and jealousy as he realized that the audience of nearly two thousand, rich and poor alike, were all clamoring to see his wife. Mrs. Jessica Wentworth had been the subject of songs, poetry, paintings, and engravings. Everyone was enchanted with her talent, her face and form. Men wanted her, and women fantasized about what it would be like to be her, a beautiful and acclaimed actress with all of London at her feet.

He wondered if Julia would ever be willing to give up such universal adoration for the quieter rewards of marriage and family. What could he offer that would be preferable to this? Wealth meant nothing to Julia—she had proven that by relinquishing her own family fortune in favor of her freedom. And the love of one man must pale in significance to the love of thousands. Troubled by his thoughts, Damon sat frowning at the stage even as the curtain parted to reveal a spectacular oceanside scene. The backcloth was painted to resemble a sparkling blue sea, and delicately painted flats had been erected to resemble an elegant home on the shore.

A single figure strode onto the stage, a slender woman swinging her hat by its ribbons as she stared dreamily at the rippling water. It was Julia—Jessica—steadfastly remaining in character despite the tumultuous applause that greeted her. Other actresses might have acknowledged the wild response of the house with a pretty curtsy or a wave, but Julia continued to maintain the illusion, waiting patiently for the noise to subside. She was ethereally beautiful in a light blue dress, her blond hair falling in long curls down her back.

“Ravishing creature,” William said enthusiastically. “What I wouldn't give to sample her charms!”

“Not while I live,” Damon muttered, sliding him a meaningful look. “She's mine.”

William seemed startled by the comment. “Do you mean you've made her your mistress? Don't you think it would have been wise to get rid of Pauline first?”

“No, she's not my mistress. She has a greater claim on me than that.”

“I don't understand. Damon, she's not…” As William stared at his older brother, a strangled laugh of disbelief escaped him. “My God, you're not implying that she…no.” He shook his head. “No,” he repeated in wonder, glancing rapidly from Damon's face to the woman on the stage. “She couldn't be…Julia Hargate? How is that possible?”

“Her father disowned her when she left home and turned to a life on the stage. She reinvented herself as Jessica Wentworth.”

William spoke in a rapid undertone, his gaze locked on the stage. “By God, I think you're the luckiest bastard who ever lived. And furthermore, you should kiss Father's feet for arranging a marriage with her—”

“Things aren't that simple,” Damon said grimly. “Do you suppose I'm in a position to claim her as my wife and drag her off to the castle in Warwickshire?”

“Well, there is the matter of Pauline to consider—”

“Pauline is the least of it. Julia has no desire to give up the life she has made for herself.”

William was mightily puzzled. “Are you saying that Julia wouldn't want to be your wife? Any female in her right mind would aspire to marry a man with your title and fortune—”

“From all appearances, she already has what she wants.”

“A life in the theater?” William asked skeptically.

“She's an independent woman with a successful career.”

“A woman preferring a career to marriage?” William said, looking offended at the very idea. “It's unnatural.”

“Julia wants to make decisions for herself—hardly surprising after being managed and manipulated by Lord Hargate all her life.”

“I could understand it if she were a bluestocking or a hag…but a woman with her looks and breeding…” Confounded, William concentrated on the scene unfolding before them on the stage.

More characters made their entrances, a heavyset old man who garnered many laughs as Julia's socially ambitious father, and a small curly-haired woman as her personal maid. Soon a tall, blandly handsome suitor also appeared. He was intent on courting the aristocratic miss and also winning the approval of her father. A light conversation ensued, laced with charm and social satire.