Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(83)

Cowed, the women retreated and muttered complaints under their breath, while Julia suppressed an admiring laugh. “You're a tigress, Mrs. Florence.”

The elderly woman waved away the praise. “I blessed the day when I could finally be rude to people and have them excuse me because of my age.” She returned Julia's smile. “You're maturing into a splendid actress, Jessica. I was so pleased and proud to see you on stage last night, and to think that I might have had some small part in your success.”

“I owe everything to you, for your advice and guidance, and for the way you encouraged me to join the Capital players.”

“It seems you've achieved everything you dreamed of,” Mrs. Florence remarked with a vaguely quizzical look. “Why is it that you don't look happy, my dear?”

Ruefully Julia realized that her friend knew her too well to be fooled by facades. She settled back in her chair and sighed. “Do you remember the conversation we had years ago, when you told me that you hadn't married the man you loved because he wanted you to leave the theater? You implied that I might someday face the same dilemma, and I didn't believe you.”

“And now you do,” Mrs. Florence said, immediate understanding gleaming in her eyes. “It gives me no satisfaction to be proven right, Jessica. I wouldn't have wished this for you—it's a very peculiar sort of pain, isn't it?”

Julia nodded, suddenly unable to speak. Her chest and throat felt unbearably tight.

“I assume he proposed to you,” Mrs. Florence remarked. “What was your reply?”

“I…broke off our relationship. And then last night I received a proposal from another man…from Mr. Scott.”

Mrs. Florence looked intrigued. “Is he in love with you?”

“No, it's nothing like that. He described it as a marriage of convenience.”

“Oh, I see.” Mrs. Florence laughed softly. “Your Mr. Scott's ambitions know no limits, do they? If you left the Capital, there would be a difficult vacancy to fill. However, with you as his wife, he could build his acting company into something extraordinary…and he's willing to marry you in order to ensure it. The question is, are you willing to sacrifice the other man—the one you love—for the sake of your profession?”

“You did,” Julia pointed out.

Mrs. Florence pinched her nose shut and took a sip of bitter mineral water. “I also told you that I regretted my actions,” she said, using a lace handkerchief to dab at the corners of her mouth.

“If you could make the choice all over again—”

“No,” Mrs. Florence interrupted gently but firmly. “Once the decision is made, it won't do to look back. Proceed in the direction you've chosen, whatever it may be, and tell yourself it's all for the best.”

Julia threw her a pleading glance. “If only you would advise me, as you've done so often before—”

“I'll dispense all the advice about acting you could ever require, but not about your personal life. I can't make such a decision for you. And I don't care to think about what I might have done differently. The past can't be changed.”

Julia made a face, realizing just how much she had hoped that Mrs. Florence would tell her what to do. “There's only one thing I'm certain of,” she said glumly. “It will be safer to follow my head rather than my heart.”

“Indeed.” The older woman regarded her with a mixture of amusement and sympathy. “At all costs we must be safe, mustn't we?”

William strode into the parlor of his St. James terrace apartment, where his butler had just shown Lady Ashton. It was no surprise that Pauline had come to call at this late hour in the evening. Immediately upon William's return to London, he had made it known among the appropriate social circles that he would be staying at his town residence for a while. In addition, he had hinted broadly that he was at a loss for sorely needed female companionship. Like a fly to honey, Pauline had wasted no time in descending on him.

Pauline was standing at the window, expertly displaying her spectacular silhouette. In a practiced move, she turned to face him with the hint of a smile on her red lips. She was strikingly beautiful in a burgundy velvet dress that blended in rich harmony with the masculine colors of the room. The bodice was cut very low, revealing an inch or two more of her smooth white br**sts than was tasteful. The effect was stimulating, to say the least.

“Lady Ashton…what a surprise,” William murmured, crossing the room to her outstretched hands.

“Lord William,” she purred, wrapping her fingers around his. “I had to see you right away. I hope you don't mind. I'm so terribly distraught.”

He looked into her face with a show of concern. “But why, Lady Ashton?”

All of a sudden there was a glimmer of moisture in her dark eyes. “You must call me Pauline. Surely we've known each other long enough for that.”

“Pauline,” he repeated obediently. “Won't you sit down?”

Reluctantly she released his hands and went to the sofa, spreading her skirts across the slick damask.

“A drink?” William offered. At her nod, he went to pour each of them some wine, and sat on the other end of the sofa. Pauline held the wine glass in her long fingers, toying with the shape of it, delicately tracing the stem and the rim.