Page 52 of A Contracted Spouse for the Prizefighter

Clem caught his breath, and she must have seen the look in his eye for she said quickly, “And that was a very good thing, let me tell you!”

“Oh, and why is that?” he asked, seizing her about the waist and waltzing her across the kitchen floor. He was pleased to find she followed his lead with ease and clearly knew the steps. Her height made her a good partner for him. He would have to take her out dancing if only he could persuade her to wear something half decent for once.

Dora took a deep breath. “Because I had not quite made up my mind about you then,” she admitted. “If you had taken any liberties, I would have been forced to bring a rolling pin down on your head,” she joked, clearly striving for a lighter tone.

Clem made a sound of disagreement in his throat. “You promised to marry me on that occasion, Dora love,” he reminded her. They were circling the kitchen now, their steps perfectly in sync. She had no problem dancing and conversing at once. Why had he thought she would blush and stare at her feet?

Dora pulled a face. “I was not sure of you though,” she admitted ruefully. “Not at that point. I did not know you were wholly on my side. Not then. That came later.” She smiled at him, and Clem felt his stomach clench.

What was he even doing? She had been right not to trust him. Why was he urging her now to ignore her instincts and commit herself to his not-so-tender mercies? Then he remembered why he was doing it.

Dora was about to pitch herself off a cliff by performing at The Eagle and Sun along the line he had decided, in his beneficence, that he was going to be the one to break her fall. In order to do that, she needed to accept him fully as her benevolent protector. Then her pride would not be entirely destroyed by the ordeal she was so intent on putting herself through.

To himself, Clem admitted that might not have been the original plan, but things changed. Now the plan included picking his broken wife off the floor and restoring some sense of purpose and comfort to her life in the aftermath of her shattered dreams.

True, he was not exactly sure yet what he was going to do with her or where he was going to clear a spot for her in his life, but he had the strangest feeling that wherever it was, he would not begrudge it overmuch.

Dora was not exacting in her demands, in truth, she required precious little to keep her happy, if you took the music hall career out of the equation that is. And very soon that would see to itself. That crazy ambition would die a natural death all too quickly. It would remain only an embarrassing memory that he would do his best to erase from her mind.

Maybe they would joke about it together when they were old and gray … Clem suffered a jolt, realizing he had just imagined a future with Theodora Fields where they grew old together. Fuck … maybe that was her place?

He could just stash her somewhere out of the way and keep her safe until he had made enough money. Then when he was done with the hustle and bustle of London and his drive and ambition were all spent, he could join her there. To live out his later years in comfort with Dora at his side.

He stared at her. Such an idea ought to scare the living daylights out of him. Why then, did it feel so peculiarly appealing?

“What is it?” Dora asked curiously, then her enquiring gaze shifted from his face to the doorway, and he turned to find Felix Fields regarding them both open-mouthed. When neither of them spoke a word or moved out of their clinch, his brother-in-law cleared his throat. “Thought I’d see how that pot of tea was coming along,” he said lamely.

FIFTEEN

Clem’s expectations were not high, but luncheon was a truly dismal affair. Allsop was coaxed down out of his attic and a pork pie was discovered in a cupboard that Fields had bought the day before and not yet demolished. This was cut up and set on the table along with some bread and butter, some jam, an almost empty jar of marmalade, and a thin wedge of cheese. To Clem’s disgust, there were not even any pickles to be had.

The dining room itself had a shabby, neglected feel. Considering the huge oval table and proliferation of chairs that lined the walls, it ought to smell at the very least of beeswax furniture polish. The empty vases ought to be filled with flowers. There should be a crisp white tablecloth laid, but it was clear though that no one had thought of such things in a while.

Dora wielded the teapot and managed to keep up a little desultory conversation, but her brother sat alternating between outraged affront and melancholy despair, huffing and puffing one minute and then cradling his head in his hands and groaning the next.

As for Allsop, Clem could see no sign of his alleged support in the dejected-looking man who sat doing his best to avoid catching anyone’s eye. He drank three cups of milky tea but the bread he so assiduously buttered and cut into triangles did not go anywhere near his mouth. If he had a mind to be generous, Clem would say he was nervy or high-strung. For some reason though, generous was the last thing he felt like being about the Fields’ lodger.

Once the pie dish was emptied, the meal started to wind down. Felix looked up suddenly, clearing his throat. “I should like a private word with you after dinner, Theodora,” he said pompously, “in Uncle’s study.”

“Certainly not,” Clem interjected firmly. “You can have nothing to say to my wife that her lawfully wedded husband cannot hear.”

Felix glared at him a moment before turning to his sister. “You must know why he will not allow us to speak alone together, Theo.”

“Felix,” Dora sighed. “You are being quite ridiculous! What’s done is now done. We must all find a way to get along together.”

“At any event, his only interest is getting his hands on my theatre! Surely you see that, you silly girl?”

“It is not your theatre,” Clem corrected him swiftly. She also was not a girl, but he let that pass.

“Not anymore!” Felix agreed bitterly.

“It is our theatre,” Dora put in firmly. “And this way it still remains in the family.”

“Is that what he told you, you poor deluded creature?” Felix demanded incredulously. He pointed a finger at Clem accusingly. “The things I could reveal about this man’s reputation, but alas, not one word of it is fit for your ears!”

“Yes, yes, but that is all in the past now,” Dora said hastily. “Mr. Dabney has turned over a new leaf.” Clem frowned, remembering she had explicitly promised him he would not have to.

“Hah!” Felix cried bitterly. “A likely story! That type of man never reforms his ways.”