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Clem’s expression wavered as he took in Ben’s air of quiet pride. “Then double congratulations, my friend,” he said slowly pumping his hand. “You must let me buy you a drink.”

“I can’t be long,” said Ben looking back over his shoulder. “I’ve left Lizzie with Nat.”

“You’ve brought along your wife tonight?” Clem was faintly startled. He had met Mrs. Lizzie Toomes on a few occasions now and that lady was staunchly respectable. He almost winced imagining her reaction to tonight’s acts.

“Aye, for she had a fancy to see the business you so nearly had me investing in.”

Clem laughed again. “You were never more than lukewarm in your interest,” he pointed out.

“I almost regret that seeing the roaring trade you’re doing,” Ben admitted. “You’re doing well for yourself, Clem. Good for you.”

“Not bad,” Clem admitted cagily.

“Not bad!” Ben mocked as Clem gave his order at the bar to Jessie. “To grow all this from a miserable six-man supper and song outfit!”

Clem was almost tempted to confide that he now owned the majority stake in a West End theatre, but this was neither the time nor the place. “You’ve not seen anything yet,” he contented himself with murmuring instead.

“I’ll get these,” Ben interjected as the barmaid plunked two whiskeys down. “And a bottle of champagne to take back to our table. You’ll come back with me?” he said turning back to Clem. “I’ve got some of the old crowd along with me,” he said noticing Clem’s frown. “My brothers are here along with Nat and Jeb and Nye’s come all the way up from Cornwall for a visit.”

“These are on the house, Jessie,” Clem said waving Ben’s money away. “Better make it two bottles of champagne. I’ve already seen Nat tonight,” he prevaricated, wondering if another swell of applause meant Piccadilly Percy and Lillian Longdon had been allowed to retreat now from the stage.

He fancied he heard another tune start up and recognized “Oh, he thinks he’s cock o’ the walk.” Another encore, he marveled. The early acts were supposed to stick to a strict time schedule. Then again, maybe Larry was being more accommodating for the owner’s wife.

“Nye’s brought his wife along and all,” Ben told him. “Now you know you have to come and make up to the ladies, Clem, if nothing else. You know what a charming bastard you are.”

Clem appeared to consider. “Mrs. Nye you say? As well as Mrs. Toomes? Never let it be said I’d ever willingly disappoint the ladies.”

“There he is.” Ben slapped him on the back. “The Clem I know. Nat said you were playing hard to get tonight. He reckons you’re trying to drive up your appearance fee.” Clem shrugged, snatching up the two bottles of champagne before they made their way back into the midst of the noisy hall. To Clem’s relief, the curtain was lowering again, so he was not subjected to another glimpse of his wife covered in Lil’s lip stain.

The table of prizefighters was about halfway down, and Ben waded into the audience with all the assurance of a man who could back himself up with the best right in all England. Clem was content to follow in his wake and they soon found the prizefighter’s table.

“Look who I’ve found,” Ben announced loudly to be heard above the clamor of the crowd who were still clapping enthusiastically.

“Clem!” he was hailed simultaneously by at least three people. He shook hands with Jack and Frank Toomes who were nearest to him and Jeb Morris. Nat, Clem noticed, was eyeing him narrowly. He ignored this, to bend over Mina Nye’s hand as he welcomed her to the capital.

She thanked him gravely, but her eyes danced as she returned his greeting. “Nye always promised me that he would bring me to see the dancing girls one day,” she commented, glancing enigmatically at her husband.

“You’re looking well Mina,” he told her, sweeping an appreciative eye over her dove gray gown of silk taffeta. She now only appeared to be in half-mourning. He thought Mrs. Nye a handsome woman but her drab mourning dress had never done her any favors. “It’s good to see you out of your black.”

“Why thank you, Clem. You look well too. Success suits you it seems.” He grinned back at her.

“Stop making up to my wife, you smarmy bastard,” Will Nye growled, only half in jest as he rested an arm along the back of his wife’s chair.

“Ah but you’d hardly know me, if I did not,” Clem pointed out with a grin as Nye reached up to shake his hand. “Been a while, Nye. How’s The Merry Harlot?” he asked after Nye’s coaching inn.

“It’s not called that anymore, which you would know if you ever made time in your busy schedule to come down for a visit,” Nye grouched. “You’ve not made an appearance at one of our fight nights in a six month!”

“Has it really been that long?” They assured him it had been, and after asking after their prickly maid Edna and Mina’s nephew who was a huge boxing fan, he moved down the table.

Next was Ben’s wife, who was pink-cheeked and vigorously fanning herself with a mother of pearl fan. Ben was standing at the back of her chair, with his hand on her shoulder, murmuring into her ear. She nodded and gave Clem a perfunctory smile when he kissed her hand.

“Mr. Dabney,” Lizzie Toomes murmured politely. “Business is booming for you, I see.”

“And you are blooming, Mrs. Toomes,” Clem responded gallantly as he took in her filled-out figure. She wore a dress of soft mauve which became her well and her blonde chignon was dressed with fresh violets. Clem had never thought much of her looks, but he had to admit she was displayed to advantage tonight. “May I offer you my congratulations on your good news?”

Her smile warmed. “Thank you, you are very kind.”

“You are not too hot?” He darted a quick glance at Benedict who hovered proprietorially over her.