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“What nonsense!” Theo scoffed. “Really!”

“Only, if you’re not getting any at home … I could always oblige,” he suggested, looking up at her through his lashes.

Getting any? Theo gazed at him blankly. Then he reached across and turned her hand over, his fingers lightly tracing her palm. “Barty!” she blurted, snatching back her hand and cradling it to her chest. “What are you doing?”

He gazed at her half-rueful, half something else. “I like you, Dora,” he said forthrightly. “If you ever fancy a bit.” He shrugged. “I’d be happy to—er—supply it.”

“A bit of what?” she asked, and his face broke out into a grin.

“A bit of male attention, that’s what.”

“Oh!” Good grief! “Well, that’s very kind of you,” she said politely, “but I manage just fine, thank you. Albert squires me as does Harold, Eddie, and even Sam sometimes too. I do not lack for an escort.”

Barty gave a huff of laughter. “You and Clem have an arrangement or …?” He looked at her expectantly, and it dawned on Theo that she had not been paying close enough to his words.

“An arrangement?” she repeated slowly.

“About lovers,” he answered coolly.

Oh. Oh! “What about Ruby?” she demanded, scandalized. She had definitely heard that Barty was courting one of the dancing girls.

Barty snorted. “What about her? We’re not exclusive. She went out to dinner last night with a justice of the peace.”

The truth dawned on Theo, and she shot him a knowing look. “Oh, so, this is your manner of revenge on pretty Ruby, I see.”

Barty shook his head. “Oh no, don’t go running away with that idea. I’ve had my eye on you for a while now, Dora Dabney,” he admitted without shame.

“Barty!”

“It’s the god’s own truth,” he assured her, quite unabashed. “I could properly go for you in a big way,” he said, his eyes flickering over her with an unashamed appreciation that made her feel quite stunned. “Why don’t you let me? I’d make it good between us, Dora.”

Theo’s face suddenly felt hot. He was talking about physical intimacy. She gave a strangled cough. Astonishing as it was, Barty was … well, making a play for her it seemed. However surprised and faintly gratified she felt, she needed to nip this in the bud. Also, to somehow make it so things were not eternally awkward between them in the future.

“Actually, we don’t,” she said apologetically. “There’s no arrangement in place, I mean.” This was not strictly true as she had once promised Clem that he could continue with his womanizing. He, however, had not responded in kind. At the time, neither of them had considered the remote possibility that she would want to take a lover.

Impulsively she turned fully toward him. “Barty, I like you very much, but I like Clem most of all of anyone I ever met.” She felt her face flood with color at this confession. “He’s my very best friend, you see.” This was true, even though she assuredly was not his. She bit her lip. “I could never do anything to jeopardize our marr—I mean relationship,” she corrected herself hastily. “We’re partners. I trust him implicitly and he trusts me.” She was not entirely sure this was true after the past two days, but she said it anyway.

Barty looked at her hard a moment. “Christ, Dora. Don’t look like that when you talk about a bastard like Dabney.”

Dora blinked. “Like what?”

“Starry eyed,” he said with a twist of his lips. “He don’t deserve it, love. Not one bit.”

Dora bridled slightly. “Do you imagine your conduct around the ladies is any better than his, Barty Ewell?”

He sighed. “You’re in for one hell of an awakening, Dora. Never told you I loved you, did I?” he said. “I was open and above board about what I wanted.”

Theo could not speak for a moment, and when she tried, her lips wobbled. To her horror, a tear spilled over and rolled down her cheek.

“Dora, fuck, I’m sorry—” Barty started as she sprang up from the chair and blundered toward the window. “I never meant—”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she lied, feeling angrier at herself than him. He was right; she was wearing her heart on her sleeve over Clem. Her skin felt hot and itchy. It hurt that someone she had come to see as a sort of friend pitied her like this and thought her a lovesick idiot.

She fumbled in her cuffs for a handkerchief before giving up and wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. She drew in a shaky breath. “But as a matter of fact, you wrong him. Clem never spoke a word of love to me either. He was honest to a fault.”

“Well, then he should have, damn him!” Barty said angrily. “It was the least he could have done!”

She threw up her hands in exasperation. “Can we please just drop this subject?” she asked. “You told me, without varnish, what you wanted. I explained that I could not accommodate you. Can we be friends again now and pretend this never happened?”