Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(82)

Agitated, Julia finished her wine and set aside the glass. She stood and wandered around the room, repeatedly smoothing the long sleeves of her green gown. “What about…sleeping together?” she asked without looking at him. “Would that be part of the arrangement?”

“If the idea becomes mutually agreeable, I don't see why not. However, in the meantime we would pursue our separate interests. I don't want to own you, Julia. I want no rights over you—and you would have none over me.”

Gathering her wits, Julia turned and faced Logan squarely. He lounged on the sofa, looking utterly relaxed, as if he had proposed afternoon tea rather than marriage. “Why me?” Julia asked bluntly. “There are a score of other women you could marry, including a daughter of some titled family that would welcome a man of your means.”

“I don't want some clinging vine or socialminded miss. I want someone with whom I share common goals. As an actress, you have potential beyond any I've ever seen. As a person…I happen to like you. I believe we would get on well together.” His intense blue eyes focused on her pale face. “Moreover,” he added softly, “it would help you out of your dilemma, wouldn't it? If you became my wife, Savage would never bother you again.”

As she returned his gaze, Julia was suddenly not staring into blue eyes but silver-gray ones. The sound of Damon's voice filled her mind. You are mine…You'll never be free of me, no matter what you do.

This was the only sure way to guarantee that the threat Damon posed to her independence and her acting career would be extinguished. If she didn't accept Logan's protection, she knew in her very marrow that she wouldn't be able to resist Damon's insistent passion. She would let herself be seduced, persuaded, convinced…and face a lifetime of regrets afterward. She loved Damon, but she couldn't change herself into the kind of woman he wanted.

She was filled with misgivings, but in the mass of contradictions she waded through, there seemed to be no other choice. When she spoke, her voice sounded faint and far away. “I…I'll need to take care of some things first.”

“Of course.” There was a glimmer of satisfaction in Logan's eyes. “When would you like me to arrange the wedding?”

“As soon as possible,” Julia said stiffly. “I would like this to be done right away.”

Logan approached her, his bluntly attractive features softening with concern. “Julia, if you want to change your mind—”

“No,” she interrupted, squaring her shoulders. “This is the right decision.”

“I agree.” He reached out and took hold of her upper arms, squeezing gently. “You'll find I'm a good friend, Julia. I wear well over time.”

She nodded and smiled in spite of the heavy feeling inside, as if a block of granite were lodged in her chest.

The next morning Julia received a note at the Bath Inn from her old friend and teacher Mrs. Florence. The elderly actress had come to town for reasons of health and social amusement, and was full of praise for Julia's performance in My Lady Deception. Mrs. Florence extended an invitation to meet in the Pump Room during the fashionable morning hour, and Julia didn't hesitate to comply. It had been several months since she visited the elderly woman in London, despite the fact that they lived on the same street. Time had a way of slipping by much too quickly, and Julia felt guilty for not having made a point of going to see her friend.

When she arrived at the Pump Room, Julia was pleased to see that Mrs. Florence appeared as vibrant as ever, her faded red hair arranged in stylish coils on top of her head, her face filled with keen intelligence. She wore her age gracefully, like a marble statue that had been gently weathered and mellowed by time. Seated at a small table with a glass of mineral water before her, Mrs. Florence listened to the music provided by a nearby string quartet. As soon as she saw Julia, her eyes brightened expectantly.

“Mrs. Florence,” Julia exclaimed, sincerely glad to see her. It was providential that her mentor should have come to Bath at precisely the moment she needed her. She sat in the chair beside her, and took the elderly woman's soft, finely wrinkled hands in hers. Mrs. Florence's fingers were adorned with a collection of substantial jewels, and a slim rope of pearls and garnets was wrapped around her wrist. “You look wonderful, as always.”

“It's been a long time since you came to call,” Mrs. Florence said in friendly reproof. “I finally realized I would have to travel to Bath to see you.”

Julia began to sputter with apologies and explanations, and gave her a lame smile. “I've been very busy. You can't imagine—”

“Oh, I believe I can,” Mrs. Florence interrupted dryly. “I'm not so old that I can't remember the demands made on a popular actress.” She regarded Julia fondly. “You may remove your veil, child. I can keep all of the admirers and curiosity-seekers at bay.”

Julia obeyed, lifting the veil from her small hat, aware of the sudden wave of interest that passed through the room and the gazes that fastened on her. A pair of plump women with excited expressions immediately rose to approach the table. Expertly Mrs. Florence lifted her cane, which had been hooked around the back of her chair, and raised it as if to poke them away. “Another time,” she told them firmly. “My young friend and I are having a private conversation.”