Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(95)

“A man like me?” Damon repeated, amused.

“Yes, with all your business speculations and investments and your talk of tenants and farming—”

“It must seem dull in comparison to the theater.”

“You must admit, we have very different interests.”

Damon laughed and pulled the covers down from her shoulders, until the cool air caused her ni**les to rise into points. Her skin was dappled with firelight and shadow, and he drew his hand slowly over the silken surface. “In some ways, yes,” he said, bending his head to her throat. “But we also have a few important things in common.” He smiled as he felt her shiver in response to his touch. “Would you like me to elaborate?” he asked, nibbling at the sensitive side of her neck.

Julia slid her arms around him and arched upward, eager as always for the pleasure he offered.

Damon was a generous lover, sometimes lingering over her body for long, sweet hours, sometimes taking her with a rough passion that filled her with excitement. Julia gained the confidence to seduce him when it took her fancy, wearing provocative gowns and teasing him until he snatched her in his arms and gave her exactly what she asked for. When they were together, she could let the worries of her profession slip away, and she became a new person entirely, filled with contentment and ease.

As September drew near and rehearsals for the upcoming season increased, Julia traveled back and forth from the Savages' London residence to the Capital. At first the members of the company had seemed uncomfortable with her new status as the Duchess of Leeds, but that was all quickly forgotten in the work before them. Arlyss was clearly happy in her marriage to Michael Fiske and satisfied with her continuing popularity as a comic actress.

Logan Scott, for his part, was the same as ever—demanding, arrogant, and obsessed with making his theater the most spectacular draw in London. With each bit of renovation that was completed on the Capital's interior, his spirits seemed to rise.

“Your one great love,” Julia commented laughingly as she saw him inspecting the freshly gilded proscenium one day after rehearsal. “How many women would give anything to have you look at them that way! Just bear in mind that a mere building will never love you back.”

“You're wrong,” Logan informed her, throwing her a smiling sideways glance. His large hand drifted over the intricate carving of the proscenium. “She gives me far more than any flesh-and-blood woman ever could.”

“Can a theater be a she?”

“How could it be anything else?”

Julia folded her arms across her chest and regarded him in a speculative way, thankful to her very marrow that she hadn't married him. Logan was—and would probably always be—extremely limited when it came to matters of the heart. Something in him wouldn't allow the trust and intimacy that were necessary to love a real person, to surrender to the risk that a relationship required.

When the theater season began, Julia found herself inundated with hordes of admirers, some respectful, some intrusive. To ensure Julia's safety, Damon made certain that she was accompanied to and from the theater with outriders and armed footmen, and that she had a capable escort whenever she went to shop or pay calls. At first Julia thought the extra security measures were overdone, but she soon realized they were necessary. As she left the Capital after a performance, her ears were filled with screams of “Mrs. Wentworth!” or “Duchess!” and she was assailed by people trying to snatch a bit of lace from her gown or even a few hairs from her head.

Logan was openly pleased by Julia's popularity, knowing it was one of the reasons for the spectacular revenues being drawn in by the Capital. “Marrying Savage may not have been such a bad decision,” he said reflectively, after witnessing the crowds gathering to await Julia's exits and entrances to the Capital. “The public likes the idea of a duchess performing for their entertainment. It makes me wish I'd been born with a title—just think what heights I would reach.”

“I'm so glad you can find some benefit for your theater in all of this,” Julia replied sourly. “That makes this inconvenience worthwhile.”

Logan grinned at her sarcasm. “You're the one who chose to marry a duke over a mere thespian,” he pointed out. “It's not my fault if the Capital has profited through your actions.”

“Yes…but must you gloat over it?” Julia asked, her reproving look dissolving into a wry laugh.

Recently there had been some tension between the two of them. At a social gathering the previous week, Logan had tried to demonstrate that although Julia was the Duchess of Leeds, she was also an employee who was required at least part of the time to do his will. When called upon to entertain the guests, Logan had gestured to Julia, who was standing nearby with her husband. “Perhaps Her Grace would care to perform with me?” he suggested.

Julia gave Logan a discreet glare, having told him earlier that she would not help with any scenes that evening. She was there as Damon's wife, not as an actress Logan could trot out to solicit donations for his theater. The guests at the party urged her to come forward, but she stayed by Damon's side.

“I'm certain Mr. Scott can perform something with no assistance from me,” she said, a fixed smile on her lips.

Logan's gaze met hers in a battle of wills. “Come, Your Grace. Don't deprive everyone of the enjoyment your talent provides.”