Page 143

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re the toast of London,” he pointed out. “And career highs do not last in this profession. You should make the most of it while yours shines bright.”

“My career will last,” she said with such confidence that he turned his head to look at her. She nodded slowly, propping a hand under her head. “I mean what I say. I’m a character actress, Clem, not a beauty. My ability to portray sporting vicars won’t fade.”

He seemed to consider this. “You won’t be able to portray young bucks when you’re big with child,” he pointed out.

She shrugged. “So then, I’ll play fat old bishops.”

He laughed at that, but it quickly faded as his eyes roamed over her face. “You’re really not worried, are you?” His tone was slightly awed.

“No. Besides, my husband’s a successful businessman. Even if my work does dry up eventually, he can afford to keep me in relative comfort. And any children that come along,” she added as an afterthought. “If all else fails, you can always take up that match with The Diamond,” she joked.

Clem smiled briefly, but he was breathing hard. “You mean it?”

She nodded. “Every word. Though we should probably delay having a baby until we’ve got The Parthenon back on an even keel.”

He swallowed. “When I was feeling really insecure, I worried I’d unconsciously tried to sabotage you that time I almost forgot,” he admitted looking guilty as hell.

Theo laughed softly. “You’ve reminded me of my preventative more times than I can say,” she pointed out gently. “You would never jeopardize my career.”

“No, I know.”

She jabbed him suddenly in the ribs.

“Ow, what was that for?”

“That,” she said tartly, “is for suggesting I take a lover! Two lovers,” she added belligerently.

“God, don’t,” he groaned. “You punished me for that already. As soon as I said it, I wanted to rip my own throat out. Then you brought up that fucker Ewell …”

“Yes, that was a low blow,” she admitted, running a hand over his shirt front, “but you hurt my feelings, so I wanted to strike back where it hurt.”

“A low blow?” he repeated. “It was damn near fatal!” She gave a gurgle of laughter and dropped her face onto his chest. “Are you laughing?” he asked incredulously.

“It’s just … you’re being so dramatic, Clem. And I’m supposed to be the theatrical one!”

He rolled her onto her back. “You think I’m exaggerating?” he demanded.

She gazed at him, shook her head, and then reached up to cup his face with her hands. “You make me so happy, Clem Dabney,” she said with feeling.

“God,” he groaned. “I’m so in love with you, it’s embarrassing.” Theo spluttered. “No, it’s true,” he insisted. “I think everyone at The Eagle knows it too. In fact, I know they do, looking back on the cryptic comments I’ve received this past couple of months. I thought I was so bloody clever, tricking you into marriage. Then you wrapped me right around your little finger, right from the very beginning.”

Theo peeped up at him. “Whereas I think I fell in love with you when you bought me my first suit.” He laughed. “Clem,” she said running a hand down his shirt front. “If I tell you something now, something that is very important to me and which you may find hard to believe, will you hear me out?”

He drew back to look at her serious tone. “Of course. Tell me.”

“Viola’s role may not precisely be a breeches role,” she said, “but it is in the same kind of spirit.”

“A what?”

“A breeches role. That is a role written for a woman to be masquerading as a man.”

“Yes. That is why Howard said it would be the perfect role for you,” he answered with a frown.

“But playing those kind of roles are not my dream, Clem. The Princess Royal is a beautiful theatre, with a wonderful history. It has put on some truly wonderful productions. And Orlando Kirby is a fantastic actor. But I don’t want to appear opposite him as his leading lady; I never have. I want his roles! Don’t you understand, Clem?

Twelfth Night is a wonderful play but my dream role in it would not be Viola but Feste the jester. Or even Sir Andrew Aguecheek! I know exactly how I would play him, Clem.” She could hear the enthusiasm in her own voice. Clem was staring at her hard. He was actually listening and hearing what she was saying. Her heart sang. “Oh, he would be such a pitiful creature, Clem. I’d play him with such pathos. I’ll have all the ladies weeping into their handkerchiefs and wanting to mother him.