Logan smiled. “You exceeded every hope I had for you. You made everyone in the cast shine in your reflected glory, including myself.”
The lavish praise was so unexpected that Julia was disconcerted. She gave him a tentative smile and turned to straighten the articles on her dressing table.
“I saw Lord Savage coming backstage,” Logan remarked. “From his expression, it was obvious he didn't intend to congratulate you.”
“No, he didn't.” Julia's hands went still on the dressing table, fingertips pressed on the smooth surface until they turned white. She took care that her reflection gave no clue as to what had happened.
Logan regarded her thoughtfully and gave a short nod, as if coming to a decision. “Come with me, Julia. I want to talk to you about an idea I've been considering lately.”
She turned toward him, unable to hide her surprise. “The hour is late.”
“I'll deliver you to the inn by midnight.” His wide mouth curved in a smile. “I have a proposition that concerns your future.”
Julia was intrigued. “Tell me.”
“In private.” Logan clamped a gentle hand over her arm and drew her from the dressing room.
“Where are we going?” she asked, picking up her cloak as they left.
“I have a house near the river.”
Mystified, Julia accompanied him without further questions. She was puzzled as to why he would allow her to see yet another of his residences, inviting her a step further into the private world he guarded so jealously.
After making their way through the crowd waiting outside the theater, they took a carriage ride to a small, elegant villa situated amid thickly wooded grounds. Like Logan's London home, it was Italianate in flavor, with a luxurious but quiet atmosphere.
Sitting in the parlor with a glass of wine in her hand, Julia relaxed against the upholstered back of an Empire-style sofa. She stared at Logan expectantly. He fiddled with a few objects placed artfully on a marble-topped pier table: a Chinese meiping vase, a green malachite box, an ebony Louis XIV bracket clock. He slid her a sidelong glance, appraising her mood.
“You look as if you're preparing to talk me into something,” Julia commented.
“I am,” he said with disarming frankness. “But before I make the attempt, tell me how things stand between you and Lord Savage.”
Julia occupied herself with removing a minuscule bit of cork from the inside of her glass. She finally looked up at him with an uncomfortable smile. “May I know the reason you're asking?”
“I don't want to interfere in your relationship…your marriage.”
“There can be no real marriage,” she said, her voice dull and flat. “It's clear to me that we would both be better off with an annulment. Unfortunately Lord Savage doesn't agree…and he's rather overwhelming when it comes to getting what he wants.”
“And he wants you,” Logan said quietly.
“He wants a traditional wife.” Julia took a swallow of wine. “He wants me to become Lady Savage and leave all traces of Jessica Wentworth in the past.”
“That won't be possible. Not for someone with your talent.”
“If only I were a man,” she said bitterly. “Then I could have everything…my work, a family, freedom to decide things for myself…and no one would disapprove. But I'm a woman, and no matter what I choose, I'm going to be unhappy.”
“For a while, perhaps. The pain of losing something—or someone—fades in time.”
Logan was so matter-of-fact, so self-possessed, as if his heart was encased in steel. Julia wasn't certain if she was envious or appalled by his coolness. “You said you had a proposition for me?” she asked.
He came to the sofa and sat at the other end. His tone was brisk and businesslike. “During the next few years I'm going to make some changes at the Capital.”
“Oh?”
“I'm going to build the company into the most renowned group of actors in the world. I need you to be part of it.”
“I'm flattered that you think so highly of my work.”
“I never flatter anyone, Julia—certainly not someone I respect. You must understand by now that you're an invaluable asset to the company. I intend for you to be a cornerstone of its success. I'm willing to offer you a share in the Capital's profits to ensure that you'll stay.”
Julia was silent with astonishment. She had never heard of Logan making such an offer to another actor.
“I will do whatever is necessary to protect my investment in you,” he continued, “and to make a difficult choice easier for a friend.”
She tilted her head, considering the words with a perplexed frown. “It sounds as if you're offering a sort of…business partnership?”
“You could describe it as such. But the partnership would involve more than business.”
More than business? Julia stared at him closely. There was nothing predatory in his expression, nothing that would lend a sexual intent to his words. What could he possibly mean? Finding it inconceivable that she was having this conversation with Logan, she gave him a questioning look. “Perhaps you should explain.”
Absently Logan tugged at a lock of his ruddy hair. “I've told you before that I don't believe in love. However, I do believe in friendship—the kind that involves respect and honesty. I would never marry for love, but I would choose to marry for practical reasons.”
“Marry?” she repeated with an astonished laugh. “Are you possibly suggesting that you and I…but I could never marry a man I didn't love!”
“Why not?” he asked calmly. “You would have all the benefits of marriage…protection, companionship, mutual interests…and none of the liabilities. No false promises, no emotional entanglement, nothing but the security that two friends could offer each other. Consider it, Julia. Together we could build an acting company like nothing the world has ever seen. We're more alike than you think, both of us existing on the fringe of a society that looks down their noses at us—and at the same time they need what we have to offer.”
“But is it necessary for us to marry?”
“As my wife, you would accompany me to social events in London, Paris, and Rome. You could devote as much time as you wanted to your acting, choose roles for yourself, develop plays for the theater…I don't know of any woman who has had such influence in this profession.”
“The last thing I expected was to receive another proposal,” Julia said dazedly.
“There's an important difference. Savage wants to marry you in order to keep you all to himself. I'm offering to marry you in order to make us both successful, financially and artistically.”
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.”
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 co
lors of the room. The bodice was cut very low, revealing an inch or two more of her smooth white breasts 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.
“I hope I haven't interrupted your plans for the evening,” she said, staring at him intently.
“Nothing to interrupt,” he assured her.
“You look lonely, poor boy.” Her voice softened to a throaty whisper. “I happen to be lonely as well.” Her sleek head came to rest on his shoulder, causing him to shift uncomfortably.
“Lady Ashton…Pauline…please don't think I'm unsympathetic, but to someone with a suspicious mind, this situation would seem rather compromising. I owe my brother a certain amount of loyalty—”
“Your brother is the reason I'm distraught,” she interrupted, smoothing the fabric of William's coat before settling her cheek on his shoulder. “I can't bear to talk of what is owed to him, when he apparently thinks nothing is owed to me. There is no one I can trust with my innermost feelings, except you. You wouldn't be so heartless as to turn me away, would you?”
William squirmed uncomfortably. “I can't interfere in the relationship between you and Damon—”