Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(49)

Julia, in the character of Christine, exuded a mixture of sweetness and loneliness, clearly desiring more than the narrow confines of her life allowed. The next scene showed her in search of an adventure, daring to pose as a housemaid and venturing into town without a chaperone. Another skillfully painted backcloth and several set pieces were revealed, simulating a bustling seaside community.

Seeming lost amid the busy street merchants and townspeople, Christine wandered across the stage until she accidentally bumped into a tall, mahogany-haired man. Even before Logan Scott turned to reveal his face, the theater audience knew who he was, and burst into wild applause. His reception was as fervid as the response Julia had garnered, the shouts of approval and clapping hands lasting for a full minute or more. Like Julia, Scott chose to stay in character, waiting until the sound faded.

There was a tangible attraction between the two as they spoke. Every line of Julia's body was tense with wariness and curiosity. Logan Scott described himself as a servant to a local lord, but an appreciative laugh ran through the audience as they suspected that the identity was a ruse. Inexorably drawn to each other, the two made tentative plans to meet again, in secret. From then on the story took on a brisk momentum, at once romantic and lighthearted.

Glancing at his brother, Damon saw that William was watching the play with rapt attention. The skill of the actors made it nearly impossible to think of anything else. The supporting cast was strong, and Logan Scott was as talented as always, but Julia was undeniably the heart of the play. She was like a flame dancing across the stage, mysterious and vibrant. Every gesture seemed miraculously natural, each rise and fall of her voice filled with poignant meaning. She was the woman every man imagined himself falling in love with someday, desirable and infinitely difficult to possess. If Julia hadn't been a renowned celebrity before tonight, this performance would have ensured it.

It made the back of Damon's neck prickle with jealousy as he watched Julia and Logan interact as two lovers. He gritted his teeth each time they touched. At the moment they kissed, the theater was filled with wistful and envious sighs, while Damon longed to leap onto the stage and tear them apart.

During the temporary lull of a scene change, William turned to Damon with a speculative expression. “Do you suppose that Julia and Mr. Scott—”

“No,” Damon snapped, fully aware of what he was thinking.

“It certainly seems as if they are.”

“They're actors, Will. They're supposed to behave like two lovers—that's the point of the story.”

“They're very good at it,” came William's dubious reply.

The remark fanned the flames of Damon's jealousy, and he struggled to keep it under control. This was what it would be like, married to an actress. There would be doubts and resentment, and constant incentives to argue. Only a saint could withstand it—and God knew he was far from that.

Julia was filled with excitement and a calm sense of purpose as she waited in the wings for her next entrance. Gingerly she blotted the mist of sweat from her forehead with her sleeve, careful not to smear her makeup. The play was going wonderfully well, and she sensed that she was accomplishing everything she had hoped to in the part of Christine.

The laughter and enjoyment of the audience were invigorating, lending the performances of all the actors an extra sparkle. One of her favorite scenes was approaching, the one she and Logan had performed at the Brandons' weekend party. She and “James” would discover their true identities, with a blend of comedy and longing that she hoped would make everyone in the house laugh, and would touch their hearts at the same time.

Sensing a presence behind her, she turned and saw Logan nearby, his face crossed with shadows in the dimly lit wings. She smiled at him, arching her brows in silent question, and he winked at hen He hardly ever winked. “You must be pleased,” Julia said dryly. “Either that or there's something in your eye.”

“I'm pleased that you haven't let your personal problems interfere with your acting,” he murmured. “You're giving a fairly decent performance tonight.”

“I never said I was having personal problems.”

“You didn't need to.” Logan turned her to face the expanse of stage that lay just beyond the wings. “But that is the only thing that matters. The stage will never fail you, as long as you give yourself to it completely.”

“Don't you ever tire of it?” Julia asked softly, staring at the long wooden boards, weathered from thousands of foot marks and scuffs left by scenery. “Don't you ever want something you can't find here?”

“No,” Logan said at once. “That's for conventional people—something you and I are not.” Hearing his cue, he moved past her and strode onto the stage in character. Frowning, Julia held a fold of a soft velvet curtain and stroked its worn softness. She stepped forward to gain a better view of the scene in progress, and saw Arlyss waiting in the wing opposite her. They exchanged a grin and a little wave, both of them sharing pleasure in the play's success.

There was a hot, pungent smell in the air, the familiar scents of paint, sweat, and the calcium flares used to light the stage. But there was a new, nearly undetectable addition to the mix. Frowning curiously, Julia looked past Arlyss to the backcloth and flats. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but a sixth sense told her that something was wrong. Troubled, she turned to some of the crew nearby, a group of scene shifters and carpenters preparing for the next change of sets. She wondered if they too had the sense that something was off-kilter, but they seemed unperturbed.