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“Yes Theo,” her brother concurred sternly. “It’s hardly a fitting matter for you to be involved. You should leave this to your menfolk.” Dora rolled her eyes but thankfully made no argument.

“And the other matter?” Clem asked, giving Felix a level look. “What of that?”

“Eh?” Fields actually looked bewildered. “What other matter?”

“The Parthenon,” Clem said through gritted teeth. “The meeting you had today with your solicitor.”

“Oh, that.” Felix shrugged. “A straightforward business apparently. I took Hetty with me and she freely admitted she had sold her interest outright. Tolley confirmed Hetty no longer holds any shares; you do. What more is there to be said? Unless …” He paused heavily. “You have some stratagem to suggest for dealing with our deserting sponsors?”

“None,” Clem admitted shortly. “We will have to play that by ear.”

“Only, I’ve been thinking”—Felix swallowed—“that we might have to abandon the current production and lay off the cast. Ticket sales …” His words trailed off hopelessly.

“As bad as all that?” Dora asked sounding dismayed.

Clem hesitated. “Why don’t you let me look over the books?” he offered. To his surprise, Fields didn’t instantly bristle.

“Would you?” he mumbled. “Who knows, a fresh pair of eyes …?”

Things must be even more dire than they had appeared.

“Bring them home with you this week,” Clem said, “and I’ll take a look at them.”

Fields nodded and rose from his seat, taking this as a cue to leave, and did so promptly after wishing them a goodnight.

All along, Clem had been intending to leave after Fields had said his piece, but instead of doing that, he remained seated where he was, watching his wife.

Dora was absorbed in her own thoughts for a moment after her brother left, and when she refocused on Clem, she seemed almost surprised to find him still there. “What do you think are the odds of Hetty taking a role at The Eagle?” she asked, instantly going on the attack.

For a moment, Clem could not even speak. He gave an incredulous laugh. “Your sister? In music hall?”

“Yes, a minor role could work,” she insisted. “Maybe as the straight role with a comedian,” she suggested with, he thought, more than just a hint of desperation.

“Oh really? A barmaid seems more realistic.”

Theo flushed. “If the sponsors will no longer tolerate her presence at The Parthenon, then obviously it behooves us to find something else for her to do.”

“She won’t find anything at The Eagle,” he answered bluntly.

“Why not?”

He hesitated, trying to answer her truthfully without causing offence. “She doesn’t have your warmth, or your wit, Dora. She doesn’t possess your appeal.”

She looked utterly stunned by his words. “Clem,” she spluttered. “For years she was the main draw at The Parthenon!”

“The main draw at a failing box office,” he answered with a curled lip. “Your sister’s pretty, I’ll give you that, but it’s not enough. Pretty actresses are two a penny. She got main billing as she owned a quarter of the theatre,” he added coolly. “No other reason.”

Theo shook her head. “Pretty? You’re doing her a disservice Clem, and you know it.”

“What do I know?” he demanded, arching a brow at her.

“You know she has appeal, that she’s beautiful,” she insisted. “When you first came to the Parthenon—” She broke off.

“What?”

Dora inhaled a shaky breath. “She was the one you were interested in, not me,” she started calmly.

He cut her off, contemptuously. “That’s bullshit, Dora.”