Page 46 of A Contracted Spouse for the Prizefighter

“Absolutely fine,” he answered, still eyeing her a little oddly. Rather as though a pampered lapdog had wheeled about and bit his hand.

She lowered her fork a moment. “Is … everything well with you this morning?” she asked, feeling a rush of color to her cheeks.

“Absolutely, Dora, why shouldn’t it be?”

She hesitated, for how could she explain that she kept catching sight of him watching her out of the corner of his eye with a strange expression on his face? “I … Well, I hope I did not shock you last night, that is all,” she said, and Clem promptly spat out his mouthful of tea and went off in a coughing fit.

“Oh!” She sprang up and rounded the table, smacking him squarely between the shoulder blades. Luckily, in this sort of establishment, someone could likely get knifed between the ribs and no one would blink an eye. She did love how this new husband of hers was broadening her horizons.

She slipped back into her seat once Clem had reined it in and regarded him with a concerned eye. “Better now?” she asked sympathetically.

“Fine,” Clem wheezed, sitting back in his seat. “Dora …” he started in strangled tones.

“Yes?” she asked brightly.

He subjected her to that strange look again. “Eat your sausage,” he concluded.

She beamed at him and set about clearing her plate.

After she had collapsed back in her seat with a satisfied sigh Clem ordered a second pot of coffee. She was a little surprised as she had thought he would be in more of a hurry to get to The Eagle and Sun, but he seemed in no rush whatsoever.

Once the coffee arrived, he poured them both a cup, then faced her gravely. “Dora, I want to prepare you for what you’ll find at my place of work.” He hesitated. “It’s a lot … rougher than what you’re used to at The Parthenon.” She nodded and took a sip of the hot coffee. “My employees are not genteel,” he stressed. “I make no apology for that. As my wife, you are going to be exposed to walks of life you have previously been sheltered from.”

She nodded cheerfully; she was looking forward to it. Clem continued to look at her doubtfully, like she had no idea what was in store for her. Maybe he was right, but even so, she could not wait!

“You will need to make allowances for their … vocabulary and their manners,” he continued, looking very serious. “Also … I have not told anyone of our association. So, when I introduce you”—he took a deep breath and looked her square in the eye—“they will all be shocked as hell.”

“Of course.” Theo nodded. “I have not told anyone either.” When he continued looking somber, she reminded him, “It was our secret after all.”

He shrugged. “So long as you’re not disappointed.”

“Oh no,” she assured him. “I’m sure I won’t be.” Then a thought occurred to her. “Felix and Harold will be unlikely to welcome you with open arms either,” she admitted. “Felix might even be a little angry that I did not return home last night and that, well, I married without his approval. I hope your feelings will not be hurt by their reception.”

Again, her words seemed to flummox him a moment. “No, I won’t be disappointed by that, Dora,” he said dryly. “Though what business our marriage is of Harold Allsop’s I fail entirely to see.”

Dora lowered her cup. “Oh, Harold will not be angry in the slightest,” she assured him quickly.

“I shouldn’t care if he was!”

Clem’s heated rejoinder threw her completely. She gaped at him, blinking rapidly. Was he annoyed? And, if so, why? She scanned back through her last few sentences with dismay. Had she inadvertently offended him?

Clem cleared his throat and straightened his jacket. “Let’s not get sidetracked,” he said rubbing his brow.

Theo’s puzzled frown cleared at once. He did have a headache! That explained everything. Hetty was always extremely snappy when she was suffering from “one of her heads.” She leaned forward in her seat and impulsively reached to cover his hand with hers. “We will weather the storm together, Clem,” she said warmly. “Never fear.”

He gazed at their hands a moment with an arrested look on his face. Then he gave a brief smile that did not remotely touch his eyes. “Doubtless,” he said and that was that.

Theo was buzzing with ill-concealed excitement the entire walk to the concert rooms. It was only two streets away from Finnegan’s, so they reached it in no time. The entrance from the street was far from grand. It had no columns like The Parthenon, indeed it looked to have been converted from several terraced properties rather than purpose-built.

Still, to Theo’s eye, it was the portal to the life she had always dreamed of, and she could find no fault with the modest black painted door and the small sign which hung over it depicting an eagle with its wings outstretched below the sun’s rays.

Without more ado, Clem produced a key and unlocked the door which Theo guessed must be unmanned outside of opening hours. He hustled her into a small entryway and directed her to the narrow staircase, gesturing for her to go ahead while he secured the door behind them.

Theo mounted the stairs, looking about her with interest at the yellow paint which Hetty would likely think garish, but she found jolly and bright and indicative of the good time its patrons would find within its walls. She had a smile on her lips before she even reached the first floor, where she paused.

She knew already from her previous visit that Clem’s office was on this level. Would he want to proceed there or show her the stage? She turned to find Clem already behind her. “Oh! You startled me.” She gave him a considering glance. “You are exceedingly light on your feet, are you not?”

“My training,” he commented, and at her blank look, he added, “Prizefighter, remember?”