Julia looked away, her brow wrinkling. “I do,” she admitted reluctantly. “But nothing can come of it. He's too…uncompromising.”
Edward seemed to understand the wealth of implications in the word. He regarded her silently, his gaze reflective.
“No doubt you would still like me to take my place as his wife and become a duchess someday,” Julia said.
A dry laugh escaped him. “As you've so clearly demonstrated over the years, the choice isn't mine to make.”
“What if I have the marriage annulled?” she asked. “Would you disown me once again?”
“No,” he said after a brief pause. “I will abide by your decision, whatever it happens to be.”
Gratitude welled inside her, and she found herself reaching out to him. Her hand closed tightly over his. “Thank you,” she said, her throat constricting. “You'll never know what that means to me.”
To Julia and Eva's relief, Edward's return to health was slow but steady, his color and strength improving a little each day. As Julia prepared to return to Bath, she took pleasure in the new beginning she had made with her family. Edward's attitude had softened toward her, his autocratic manner now tempered with tolerance and even occasional signs of affection. He seemed to be more considerate of Eva as well, perhaps realizing how much he had taken his wife's devotion for granted throughout their marriage.
On Monday morning, when the last of her bags had been packed, Julia went to her father's room to say goodbye. It was imperative that she reach Bath in time to prepare for tomorrow's rehearsal and performance. To her surprise, Edward was not alone. He had been meeting with a lawyer who had been in the Hargates' service for at least a decade. “Come in, Julia,” Edward said. “I was just concluding some business with Mr. Bridgeman.”
Exchanging a polite greeting with the lawyer, Julia waited until he had left the room before turning to her father with a questioning glance.
Edward's expression was solemn, but there was a glint in his eyes that betrayed his satisfaction. He gestured for Julia to sit by him. “I have a gift for you.”
“Oh?” Julia made her reply deliberately light and flippant. She settled in the bedside chair. “Dare I hope that I'm back in the will?”
“Yes, you've been reinstated. But I've included something else in the bargain.” He extended a packet to her, a sheaf of papers enfolded in parchment.
“What is it?” she asked, hesitating.
“Your freedom.”
Cautiously Julia received the packet and held it in her lap.
“Enclosed is your marriage contract,” Edward said. “In the meanwhile I will undertake to have the clergyman who performed the rites remove the entry from his register. There will be no sign that the ceremony ever took place.”
Julia was silent. Apparently desiring a demonstration of gratitude, Edward frowned at her. “Well? You must be pleased. It's what you claim you've always wanted.”
“What I've always wanted is never to have been married in the first place,” Julia murmured, trying to rouse herself from her bewilderment. She wasn't certain how she felt…perhaps like a prisoner who had been unceremoniously tossed the keys by the jailer. It had come without warning, leaving her no opportunity to prepare herself.
“I can't change that,” her father replied. “However, I can try to make amends.”
In his own way he was admitting that he had made a mistake—he was doing his best to return what he had taken from her. He was right, the past couldn't be changed. However, they each had control over the future, and they were free to shape it as they wished. Lifting the packet to her lips, Julia regarded him over the edge of it, and summoned a smile.
As Edward saw the crinkling of her eyes, he smiled in return. “In your view, I have done the right thing, then.”
She lowered the packet and ran her fingers over the smooth, dry surface. “You've given me the power to navigate my own course. Nothing could please me more.”
Her father shook his head slowly as he stared at her. “You're an unusual woman, Julia. I suspect it would be easier for everyone if you were more like your mother.”
“But I'm not,” Julia replied, a faint smile lingering on her lips. “I'm like you, Father.”
The amusements of Bath had quickly begun to pall for Damon. He had little interest in shopping or social amusements, and God knew he had no need of the mineral waters and their vigorous effects on the digestive organs. That left nothing to do except wait for Julia's return, an, occupation that bored and frustrated him mightily. He had a busy life awaiting him in London, business and personal affairs that required his immediate attention, and here he was languishing in Bath.
It had been a carefully considered decision to remain in the city rather than follow Julia. Having coaxed the particulars of the situation from Arlyss and a few talkative members of the acting company, Damon knew that Julia had left Bath because of a family illness, and she would likely return by Tuesday. He guessed that Eva had taken a turn for the worse, moving Edward to send for his daughter against all inclinations.
Julia had chosen to go to her family alone, wanting no outsider's support. That was her right, and Damon would not force himself into the Hargates' private family gathering. Besides, he would be damned if he trotted after Julia like a puppy dog.
The second day after Julia's departure, as he returned from a two-mile walk to the nearby village of Weston and back, Damon was surprised to discover that his brother had arrived at the Laura Place terrace house. William was in his usual fine form, stretched out on a Grecian-style couch in the library with a brandy in his hand. He looked up as Damon entered the room, and grinned in welcome.
“Taking your exercise?” William commented, noting the ruddy touch of color in his brother's cheeks and the crisp scent of leaves and autumn air that still clung to him. “Don't tell me you've exhausted all other possibilities for a fine afternoon in Bath. If nothing else you could find some fairly attractive old maid to dally with—the city is full of them. They're quite underrated, old maids. I find that an abundance of gratitude and willingness makes up for a lack of beauty—”
“Spare me your theories on women,” Damon said wryly, pouring himself a drink and sitting in a heavy leather armchair.
William sat up and regarded him amiably. “How is your wife, dear brother?”
“Julia's fine, as far as I know.” Damon paused and added curtly, “She's left Bath.”
“Oh?” William's head tilted to the side, in the manner of an intrigued parrot. “When will she return?”
“Tuesday, most likely. She didn't tell me.”
Regarding his brother's grim expression, William suddenly burst out in irrepressible chuckles. “My God,” he gasped. “I find it ironic that with the scores of women angling for you, and Lady Ashton's pursuit, all Julia seems to want is to escape you.”
“Go on and laugh,” Damon said, a reluctant smile intruding on his scowl. “Someday she'll see my charms in a new light.”
William continued to snicker like a schoolboy on holiday. “Knowing you, I can guess what the problem is. Let me give you some advice, brother—”
“I'd rather you didn't,” Damon said, but William continued.
“Women don't look for honesty in a man. They want to be charmed, deceived, seduced…and above all, they don't want to be certain of a fellow. Women like to play games. And before you give me that superior look, reflect on the fact that I've always gotten every woman I made a play for.”
Damon smiled sardonically. “Barmaids and actresses are easy conquests, Will.”
William dropped his boastful facade, looking vaguely offended. “Well, it shouldn't be difficult for you to make a conquest of Julia. Being married to her ought to give you some advantage over the competition!”
Damon watched his brother steadily. As entertaining as William seemed to find the conversation, there was a barely discernible thread of tension in his expression. He knew his brother well enough to be aware that something wa
s on his mind. Abruptly he changed the subject.
“Why have you come to Bath, Will?”
“To see My Lady Deception, of course. I can't stand not knowing the end of a story.” William produced a lopsided grin, which faded quickly. A spasm of cringing discomfort crossed his face. “And…there's something else.”
“I thought so,” Damon said dryly. “Are you in trouble again?”
“Not really. The truth is…you're the one in trouble, and I seem to be caught up in it.”
“Explain.”
William winced and downed a healthy portion of his drink. “Pauline came to see me in London at my private apartments,” he said bluntly. “She said she wanted to become better acquainted with me, as we would be related soon. She said there was no reason we couldn't become ‘friends’ and support each other as brother and sister do.”
“What kind of ‘support’ did she want?”
“She didn't say exactly, but…considering the gown she was wearing, and the way she kept touching me, I think she was trying to seduce me! I swear I did nothing to encourage her, Damon, I would never encroach on your territory. For God's sake, we're brothers—”
“It's all right,” Damon interrupted calmly. “Tell me what else Pauline said.”
“She flattered me like hell, and said that she and I had a lot in common, and that I might be interested in discovering just how much. I pretended not to understand, of course, and did my best to shove her out as soon as possible…but not before she said that she was lonely when you were away from London, and she hoped she could call on me for help if it was ever necessary.”
Damon considered the situation and let out a long breath as relief washed over him. “Interesting,” he murmured. William's information was the confirmation of his greatest hopes. Now there was no doubt in his mind: Pauline was not pregnant. The only surprise was that she would sink low enough to try to seduce his own brother. It made sense, however. If Pauline could succeed in conceiving a child by William, the family resemblance would be incontrovertible…and as one of the guilty parties, William would never want to reveal the nasty little secret that his brother's heir was actually his own bastard.
“You're not angry?” William asked, seeming vastly relieved.
“Far from it.” Damon lifted his glass in a toast to his brother, and a smile flashed across his face. “Thank you, Will.”
“For what?”
“For coming to me with this so quickly. And for your self-restraint. I'm sure many men would have found Pauline's offer too tempting to refuse.”
“Please,” William said indignantly. “Even I have standards.”
“Sometimes,” Damon reflected aloud, “I actually think there's hope for you.”
“Does this mean I've repaid you for the Sybill Wyvill affair?”
“Almost,” Damon said. “If you could see your way clear to help me with one last matter involving Pauline…”
William leaned forward, his blue eyes dancing with anticipation. “What do you have in mind?”
Upon Julia's return, the cast and crew of My Lady Deception assembled at the New Theatre on Tuesday morning. To everyone's gratification, the rehearsal was lively and smooth. Even Logan, the relentless perfectionist, couldn't conceal his satisfaction. After bestowing a few words of praise on the assemblage, he dismissed them early, giving them ample time to rest and prepare for the opening performance that night.
Julia couldn't help but notice that something had happened to Arlyss during her absence. There was a sparkle and an air of youthful eagerness about the petite actress. While Arlyss waited in the wings for her cues, she made eyes at Michael Fiske and flirted indiscreetly with him. For his part, Fiske seemed to have completely lost interest in Mary Woods, all his attention focused on Arlyss. Whenever the two were near each other, the air crackled with romantic tension.
As soon as the rehearsal was over, Julia cornered Arlyss and regarded her with an expectant smile. “Well?” she demanded. “Something has occurred between you and Mr. Fiske in my absence, and I must hear about it.”
Arlyss's face glowed with a self-satisfied grin. “I've decided you were right. I deserve to be with a man who appreciates me. I went to Michael after the company shared a late supper at the hotel, and whispered a few sweet words in his ear…he melted like butter. He loves me, Jessica! To Michael it doesn't matter who I am or what I've done…and when I ask him how he could feel that way, he says he's loved me from the first moment he saw me. Can you believe a man would tell me such things?”
“Of course I can,” Julia replied in genuine delight. “You deserve to be loved, Arlyss. I'm glad you finally had the wisdom to choose someone who won't take advantage of you.” She paused and regarded Arlyss closely. “But what of your infatuation with Mr. Scott?”
“Completely gone.” Arlyss leaned closer and said conspiratorially, “If you ask me, Mr. Scott is a cold fish. He'll never give his heart to anyone.” Her gaze happened to fall on Michael Fiske as he adjusted a piece of scenery, and her expression brightened. “This afternoon Michael and I are going to shop among the bookstalls, and then we'll stop at a pastry shop for gingerbread. Come with us, Jessica—you look as though you need a bit of fun.”
The idea of browsing among stacks of books was definitely appealing. “Thank you,” Julia said with a dawning smile. “Perhaps I will.”
“Mrs. Wentworth, I want a word with you.” Logan interrupted the conversation in his usual brusque manner, taking her aside for a private conversation. Arlyss smiled and went to Fiske, resting her hands on her hips and swaying them saucily.
Julia gave Logan an inquiring glance. He had surprised her earlier in the day with his terse greeting, not even bothering to ask about her father's health. They had launched immediately into the business of the rehearsal, and she had assumed that Logan was either too busy or didn't care to hear about her personal life.
The bright theater lighting struck glints of fire in Logan's auburn hair and made his blunt features seem more angular than usual. “How is your father?” he asked without preamble.
“Much better, thank you.”
“And the differences between you? Were any of those resolved?”
For some reason she hesitated before answering, feeling as if the subject were too intimate to discuss openly. But she had confessed her secrets to him before, and she knew him to be a trustworthy confidant. “Yes, actually. My father seems to regret what he has done. He expressed the desire to make amends. He even gave me the means to procure an annulment, if I so choose.”
His eyes flickered with interest. “What will you decide?”
Julia thought of facing Damon again, and her stomach tightened with a strange, almost pleasurable tension. “I don't know.” A frown etched itself deeply across her forehead. “Part of me wants nothing more than to go to him and tell him how much I love him, that he's worth any sacrifice…and the other part wants to cling so tightly to the theater that everything else will be lost. I never imagined that making such a choice would be so difficult.”
“There are other options,” Logan said, his expression enigmatic.
“Such as?”
“Perhaps we'll discuss them someday.”
Perplexed, Julia stared after him as he left, and a short laugh broke from her lips. It was so like Logan to cast out a mysterious statement and then leave. He was a consummate showman, knowing exactly how to capture the attention of any audience and keep it.
Moving slowly among the open-air bookstalls, Julia enjoyed the scent of crisp air mingling with leather and book dust. Some volumes were new, some used, all of them containing the tantalizing promise of new worlds to escape into. Her collection of purchases grew until it had become an*ungainly tower of books that wobbled dangerously in her arms. Arlyss and Michael seemed far less interested in the reading material than in each other. They exchanged giggling whispers, meaningful glances, and occasional fondles that they thought no one else could see.
Although Julia had d
ecided she had selected enough books, one more with a scarlet and gold-embossed cover caught her eye, and she opened the thick volume. As she glanced through the first few pages, she heard a vaguely familiar voice nearby. Alertly she listened, and watched through the screen of her veil until she saw the speaker.
Julia's heart lurched as a tall, dark figure came into view a few stalls away, a man with raven-black hair and a striking hard-edged profile. Damon, she thought immediately…but it wasn't her husband; it was his younger brother, Lord William. He appeared to be less than enthralled by the piles of books around him, complaining to an unseen companion that it was time to leave. “I had better things in mind than hunting for books,” he said irritably. “Haven't you seen enough of the damned things by now, brother?”
So Damon was here. Julia's gaze darted around the scene, and she found him immediately, his broad-shouldered form unmistakable. Somehow the intensity of her stare must have betrayed her, for he turned in a sudden fluid movement and looked directly at her. An immediate gleam of recognition shone in his eyes. Blindly Julia turned back toward the table of books, while her heart knocked clumsily inside her chest. She held the heavy stack of volumes close to her body, waiting with her eyes half-closed, wondering madly if he would come to her.
Gradually she sensed him standing behind her, close but not touching, his breath stirring the veil that flowed from the narrow brim of her hat. He spoke in a near whisper that undercut the bustle of the bookstall crowd, the softness of his voice recalling the intimate conversations they had shared the last night they had spent together.
“How was your visit to Buckinghamshire?”
Julia wanted to face him, but her feet seemed rooted to the ground. Words threatened to burst from her lips in a nervous flurry. Somehow she managed to contain them and answer calmly. “My father was ill with a fever. I went to him as soon as I found out.”
“Your father,” he repeated, surprise coloring his tone. “I assumed it was Lady Hargate—”
“No, she's very well, actually. She's nursing Father, and he seems much better now. He and I have come to a sort of…truce.” Julia felt his hand on her arm, turning her to look at him. She complied, still clutching the pile of books. The luminous gray of his eyes was visible through her veil, his expression remote.