Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(77)

Julia's heart lurched as a tall, dark figure came into view a few stalls away, a man with raven-black hair and a striking hard-edged profile. Damon, she thought immediately…but it wasn't her husband; it was his younger brother, Lord William. He appeared to be less than enthralled by the piles of books around him, complaining to an unseen companion that it was time to leave. “I had better things in mind than hunting for books,” he said irritably. “Haven't you seen enough of the damned things by now, brother?”

So Damon was here. Julia's gaze darted around the scene, and she found him immediately, his broad-shouldered form unmistakable. Somehow the intensity of her stare must have betrayed her, for he turned in a sudden fluid movement and looked directly at her. An immediate gleam of recognition shone in his eyes. Blindly Julia turned back toward the table of books, while her heart knocked clumsily inside her chest. She held the heavy stack of volumes close to her body, waiting with her eyes half-closed, wondering madly if he would come to her.

Gradually she sensed him standing behind her, close but not touching, his breath stirring the veil that flowed from the narrow brim of her hat. He spoke in a near whisper that undercut the bustle of the bookstall crowd, the softness of his voice recalling the intimate conversations they had shared the last night they had spent together.

“How was your visit to Buckinghamshire?”

Julia wanted to face him, but her feet seemed rooted to the ground. Words threatened to burst from her lips in a nervous flurry. Somehow she managed to contain them and answer calmly. “My father was ill with a fever. I went to him as soon as I found out.”

“Your father,” he repeated, surprise coloring his tone. “I assumed it was Lady Hargate—”

“No, she's very well, actually. She's nursing Father, and he seems much better now. He and I have come to a sort of…truce.” Julia felt his hand on her arm, turning her to look at him. She complied, still clutching the pile of books. The luminous gray of his eyes was visible through her veil, his expression remote.

“I'm glad for you,” Damon said quietly. “It was a long time coming. No doubt it was a relief to him as well as to you.”

“Yes,” Julia said, feeling out of breath as she stared at him. Why did he have to be so devastatingly attractive? Why did he have to look serious and brooding? Why was it such an unholy temptation to coax the firm set of his mouth into the passionate softness she remembered so well? She wanted to drop the load of books and reach for his large, warm hands, and pull them to her body. She wanted him, she was starved for him…and he gave no clue as to whether he felt the same. “I…I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was leaving, but there was little time—”

“It doesn't matter,” he said casually, reaching for the books in her arms. “May I take these for you?”

“No, thank you.” She withdrew a step, holding her burden tightly.

Damon gave a short nod, as if her refusal was what he had expected. “I have something to tell you,” he said matter-of-factly. “I'll be leaving for London tonight. There are matters I've left unattended for too long.”

“Oh.” Julia managed an indifferent smile, thankful that she was wearing a veil. It wouldn't do for him to see any sign of her sudden deflation, the hollow feeling that seeped through every nerve and fiber. “Will you be seeing Lady Ashton?” some inner devil prompted her to ask.

“I expect so.”

The brusque reply did not invite further comment. Questions brimmed inside her, and Julia was seized in the grip of gnawing anxiety. What would occur between Damon and Lady Ashton? Perhaps he would attempt some kind of reconciliation. Pauline would accept, of course. She would welcome him back eagerly, and they would begin to make plans for the life they would share with their baby.

Trying to banish the rankling images from her mind, Julia asked quietly, “Will you be returning to Bath?”

He hesitated while his gaze held hers. “Is that what you want?”

Yes, her heart cried, but she was paralyzed with indecision. All she could do was stare at him mutely.

“Damn you,” he muttered. “What do you want from me, Julia?”

Before she could reply, she heard Arlyss's pert voice nearby, half-accusing, half-teasing. “…surprised you still remember my name, my lord…you made it clear I was only a passing fancy.”

To Julia's dismay, William had seen Arlyss among the bookstalls and had wasted no time in approaching her. Turning, Julia watched the scene unfolding before them… William eyeing the small actress with roguish appreciation, Arlyss's posture of saucy challenge, and Michael Fiske, all bristling masculinity as he strode toward the pair. It was likely there would be a fight. Julia hated the thought of what such a scene might do to Arlyss's budding romance with Fiske.

“Please,” Julia said, instinctively looking to Damon for help, “don't let your brother cause trouble.”

Damon seemed unsympathetic. “There won't be, unless your featherbrained little friend offers William encouragement.”

Julia cursed beneath her breath. William and his randy impulses were going to ruin everything for Arlyss. He would soothe Arlyss's wounded pride by making blatant advances to her, and he would leave her again when the seduction was over. And Michael Fiske would want nothing more to do with her.