Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(52)

“More than I bargained for,” he admitted, a smile touching his lips. He seemed to understand what she was feeling, the fear and the aching awareness that life held such treacherous twists in store. It wasn't fair that after her hard work and sacrifice, everything could be destroyed so easily.

Julia stared up into his silver-gray eyes, struck by his calmness and strength, and the sense that he wasn't afraid of anything. He had saved her life tonight, or at the very least had kept her from harm. Why had he put himself at risk for her? Perhaps he felt he owed her his protection because she was technically his wife. “Thank you,” she managed to say. “Thank you for…what you did.”

He traced the trembling curve of her jaw with his thumb and the tip of his forefinger. “I'll never let anything happen to you.”

His fingers seemed to burn her skin. She tried to lower her face, but he wouldn't let her. Emotion and sensation uncoiled inside, her body all too ready to respond to his touch. He was going to kiss her. It shocked her to realize how much she wanted it, how tempting it was to relax and “yield to him. She had always been wary of strong-willed men, but in this moment it was a blessed relief to let him take care of her. “You have quite a sense of duty,” she whispered. “But it's not necessary—”

“It has nothing to do with duty.”

A new face emerged from the theater door. “Miss Barry! Thank God! I've been looking everywhere for you. Are you all right? Are you hurt in any way?”

Julia twisted to see Michael Fiske, the scene painter, rush toward Arlyss and impetuously take her by the shoulders. He was dirty and smudged, his shirt torn at the shoulder. Altogether, his appearance was exceptionally dashing.

“I'm perfectly fine,” Arlyss told him, looking surprised and vaguely pleased at being the object of such fervent attention. “You needn't have worried, Mr. Fiske—”

“I couldn't live with the thought that you might have been harmed!”

“Mr. Fiske,” Julia said, unable to keep from interrupting, “how is the theater? What is happening inside?”

Fiske kept his arm around Arlyss as he replied, and Arlyss seemed to be content with the arrangement. “The fire is under control now, I think. It looks as though some people have been hurt during the rush from the building, but so far I haven't heard of any deaths.”

“Thank God.” Julia was overwhelmed with relief. “Then after a few repairs, the Capital will be open again?”

“More than ‘a few repairs,’” the scene painter replied ruefully. “Months of work, more like—and the devil knows where the money will come from. We're finished for most of the season, I'd say.”

“Oh.” Julia felt strangely disoriented, cut adrift from all sense of security. What would happen next? Would Logan decide to discontinue the actors' salaries for the rest of the theater season? She had some savings, but it might not be enough to last as long as she needed.

William's cheerful voice broke into her thoughts as he reappeared on the scene and addressed Damon. “The driver is going to bring the carriage 'round, brother. As for me, I'd rather not wait. I'm in the mood for a strong drink and a pretty wench to fill my arms.” He glanced at Arlyss speculatively, reading the indecision in her face and the sudden wary defiance of the young man who held her.

“Miss Barry isn't that kind of woman,” Michael Fiske said stiffly, keeping a protective arm around Arlyss.

The thoughts were clear on Arlyss's face as she looked from one man to the other…Fiske, so earnest and hopeful, and Lord William Savage, devilishly handsome and irresponsible. Slowly she worked herself free of Fiske's hold.

Julia felt a sinking dismay as she realized what Arlyss was going to do. The petite actress had never been able to resist a handsome lord, even when he clearly wanted nothing more than a night's entertainment from her. Silently Julia willed her friend not to make the wrong choice.

William arched a black brow as he stared at Arlyss, his blue eyes gleaming with wicked invitation. “Would you like to accompany me on an evening's revels, my pretty maid?”

Arlyss needed no further encouragement. With a regretful glance at Michael Fiske, she approached William. A saucy smile curved her lips, and she placed her hand on his arm. “Where shall we go first?” she asked, and William laughed. He murmured a farewell to Damon and took Julia's stiff hand in his, bending over it in a show of gallantry. “My deepest regards, Mrs.…Wentworth.” He said the name in a way that let Julia know he was well aware of her real identity. Annoyed by his impudence, she did not return his smile.

Michael Fiske was expressionless, his gaze fixed on Arlyss as she walked away with William in search of a hackney to hire.

“I'm sorry,” Julia said quietly.

Fiske nodded and summoned a brief, hopeless smile. A frown creased Julia's forehead as she watched him head back inside the building. She glanced up at Damon accusingly. “You could have said something to your brother. He should have left Arlyss in the company of a decent man who obviously cares for her!”

“The girl was free to make her choice.”

“Well, she made the wrong one. I strongly doubt your brother has honorable intentions toward her!”

“I would say that's a safe assumption,” Damon said dryly. “There's only one thing on William's mind—and your little friend made it clear that she was ready and willing to accommodate him.” Catching sight of his carriage approaching, he nodded toward it in a decisive motion. “The driver's here. Come with me.”