Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(87)

Damon almost smiled at the image.

“I'm too much like him,” William continued bleakly. “I'll end up exactly as he did, alone and chortling over my past debaucheries, trying to pinch the housemaids as they pass by.”

“You won't,” Damon assured him. “I wouldn't let that happen.”

William expelled a deep sigh. “Precious little you've done to stop me so far. I have to take stock of my life, Damon. I've got to do something besides chase after lightskirts and spend my allowance on drink and clothes and horses.”

“You're not the only one who has to change.”

Upon hearing Damon's grim tone, William turned a surprised gaze on him. “Surely you're not referring to yourself? You're conscientious, responsible. You have no bad habits—”

“I'm overbearing as hell. I try to make everyone else fit into the patterns I've devised for them.”

“I've always assumed that's part of being the elder son. Some people would make a virtue of it.”

“Julia isn't one of those people.”

“Well, she's not the usual sort of female, is she?” William glanced at the castle before them, its dignified lines and great stone arches reflected in the silver lake below. “Can you imagine her living so far removed from the amusements of London?”

As a matter of fact, Damon could. It wasn't difficult to picture Julia riding with him through the hills and woods that surrounded the estate, her blond hair wind-tousled…or acting as hostess at a dance in the great hall, her slender figure illuminated by the massive chandeliers…or twining with him in the enormous bed in the east-facing bedroom, waking together as the sun rose.

Damon's mind was still filled with images of Julia as he and William entered the castle. Bypassing the crowd that was milling in the parlor and dining room, they headed to the library, where Mr. Archibald Lane awaited them. Lane was a lawyer Damon had employed for years to help oversee his affairs. Although somewhat retiring in manner and appearance, Lane was acutely intelligent. He was only slightly older than Damon, but his thinning hair and glasses gave him an appearance of quiet maturity.

“My lord…I mean, Your Grace…” Lane murmured as he shook Damon's hand. “I trust all is well with you? That is, as well as could be expected?”

Damon nodded and offered the lawyer a drink, which he declined. “I assume there are no surprises in my father's will,” Damon remarked, nodding at the neat sheaf of papers on the desk nearby.

“Nothing that appears to be out of the ordinary, Your Grace. However, before we attend to that, there is something…” An uneasy expression crossed Lane's narrow face. “Recently I received a copy of a letter which pertains to the matter of Mrs. Wentworth and the circumstances of your, er…marriage.”

Damon stared at him alertly.

“It seems that the union was invalid from the beginning,” the lawyer continued, “It should be regarded in the light of a betrothal that was never fulfilled. As such, Lord Hargate has requested the return of the dowry that was paid to the Savages.”

Damon shook his head, trying to comprehend what Lane had said.

“According to Hargate, his daughter Julia considers the both of you free of all obligations from now on.”

“I have to talk to her,” Damon heard himself mutter. Julia wanted to end all hope of a relationship between them. He had to convince her otherwise. “Damn her…she's my wife.” Although he knew that wasn't really true, he couldn't think of her in any other way. He loved her…he needed her.

“Your Grace,” the lawyer said, “you have no wife. By any legal definition, you never did.”

You have no wife. The words seemed to ring in Damon's ears, quiet and yet dizzying in their intensity. You have no wife…

William chose that moment to intercede. “Damon…this may be fate's way of telling you to make a new beginning. Father's gone, and you're a free man now. There is no reason you shouldn't begin to enjoy some of the things in life you've, always denied yourself.”

“After all this time…” Damon said. “After all the years I spent trying to find her, she dances away to the nearest lawyer and sends a letter like this. By God, when I reach her—”

“You should thank Julia,” William interrupted. “In my opinion, she's done the sensible thing. It's clear that you're not right for each other, and she's wise enough to know…” His voice trailed into silence as he found himself the focus of a chilling glare.

“You don't know what the hell you're talking about,” Damon snarled.

“You're right, I don't,” William said hastily. “There are times when my mouth seems to work independently of my brain…damned inconvenient. I think I'll go upstairs now.” He wasted no time in retreating from the room, after throwing a warning glance to the lawyer that made Lane fidget nervously.

“Your Grace, if you wish I can return at a later time when it is convenient for you to discuss your father's affairs—”

“Go,” Damon said.

“Yes, Your Grace.” The lawyer disappeared even more quickly than William.

It took Damon a long time to think past the flood of anger. He found himself sitting at his desk, a drink in one hand and a bottle of brandy in the other. The smooth fire of the alcohol began to dissolve the cold lump in his stomach!