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Lil gazed at her in stupefaction. “Well,” she said weakly. “You could knock me down with a feather.” When Theo’s gaze remained steady, Lil half-turned in her chair. “You know, I’m starting to think you’ve actually got a plan,” she admitted. “Have you?”

“Yes. Are you in or out?” When Lil did not answer at once, Theo thought of Mrs. Cherwell and added, “Let me put it this way, my friend, what do you have to lose?”

Lil snorted. “Absolutely nothing.” She came swiftly to her feet and stalked across the room to stand in front of Theo. “I won’t be waiting around for this plan of yours to come off, you know, love. I’ll be knocking on everyone’s doors, but all the same, I don’t expect I’ll find much joy. It’ll be slim pickings for me these days. You’re really serious about trying to get this scheme of yours off the ground?” she asked softly. Theo gave a nod. “You know what?” Lil extended her hand. “If you do get a taker for the act, then count me in.”

Theo clasped it tight, vowing that in the morning she would pay a visit to Shoreditch.

FOUR

The office at The Eagle & Sun Concert rooms, Shoreditch

“It was a pleasure doing business with you,” Clem told the cool beauty as she shook his hand. Henrietta Fields smiled perfunctorily and swept from the room without more ado. Clem watched through the glass pane as her hulking great escort straightened up to meet her. Through the glass, his cold eyes met Clem’s and he stared at him balefully a moment. There was a warning in that glare, keep your filthy hands off her.

Clem found his lips crooking into a smile and he could see the other man did not like it one bit. Still, his hands were tied. When his mistress started down the stairs, all the big man could do was cast one last warning look at Clem and then follow her down them, his neck bent to avoid the low ceiling.

The fact a haughty piece like Henrietta Fields consorted with a bruiser like that made Clem think a little better of her, though he doubted she used the man for anything more than hired muscle. Thought a lot of herself, did that one, if he was not mistaken.

She certainly thought herself too good for the acting life. He picked up the document they had both signed and regarded it with an air of satisfaction. The document proved he now owned a quarter interest in The Parthenon. He had not particularly cared for Henrietta Fields’ manner, but she had signed away her share of the theatre without a murmur, true to her word, and sailed out of his office with a substantial banker’s draft in her purse.

Thoughtfully, Clem locked it into his top drawer and pondered the moment he would saunter back into that establishment and wipe the smug smile off that bastard Felix Fields’ face. Fields would not like sharing ownership of his precious theatre with a gutter snipe like him, and that reflection gave Clem nothing but gratification as he pocketed the key and sat back in his chair.

It was less than two hours later that Jim knocked on his door again and announced, “There’s a Miss Fields downstairs to see you.”

Clem was startled. “Miss Fields?” he echoed, in surprise. “Did she forget something?” He cast a quick look about the office for an errant umbrella or something similar.

“It ain’t the same one,” Jim told him, scratching his ear.

“Not the same one?”

“Naw.” Jim shook his head. “This one ain’t a looker like the first.”

Clem’s brain scrambled, then he realized what must have happened. Miss Henrietta must have broken her promise. She had blabbed to her sister of their business transaction and now Miss Theodora had turned up to give him a piece of her mind. “Fetch her up then,” he said resignedly. Best get it over with at once.

Jim disappeared and Clem steeled himself for a second encounter with Miss Theodora Fields. He wouldn’t even be able to console himself with a look at her legs this time, he thought, for she would be respectably clad this morning. When he heard the clatter of footsteps on the stairs, he dragged himself reluctantly to his feet and steeled himself to be heaped with scolding recriminations for his nefarious machinations for buying his way into their family business.

It was at this point that he received the first of his surprises. For one thing, Miss Theodora was not dressed respectably. He did not know what she was dressed as precisely, but if someone had told him it was another stage costume, he would readily have believed them. He would have taken her billowing outer garment for a cloak, if it had not also possessed sleeves and been matched with a strange velvet cap with a tassel.

The second surprise was that, instead of looking fired up with righteous indignation, she looked like someone about to face a firing squad.

“Miss Fields,” he greeted her with wary politeness. “Come in. Please take a seat.”

She gulped and thanked him in strangled tones before walking once around the chair he gestured her toward. Finally, she lowered herself into it and sat gazing at him with a faintly anxious expression on her face.

“How can I help you this morning?” he prompted when no further speech seemed forthcoming. She practically leapt out of her chair at this and started pacing about his poky office, cannoning into a packing case before wheeling about in the opposite direction, only coming up short when she barked her shins on the coal scuttle.

Clem stifled a sigh and glanced at Jim who tapped his brow indicating he believed Miss Fields to be lacking in wits. Clem gave a slight shake of his head and indicated he could leave. Jim frowned and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him. It was only at this point that Clem realized Miss Fields had already launched into a fast-paced speech he had not been listening to.

“… I know I’m not much to look at,” she concluded earnestly, “but I understand perfectly what kind of man you are, and you may be sure I would not interfere with your carrying on or allow that to prejudice our arrangement in any way.” She took a deep breath and looked at him hopefully.

Clem blinked, realizing at last whatever she had been twittering on about had not been burning accusations about his business practice. Our arrangement, he pondered. What the hell had she been talking about? “My … carrying on?” he repeated blankly.

“Your womanizing,” she explained. “I only ask that you show me the same courtesy.”

This time he leaned forward, giving her his full attention. Was this strange woman asking him to debauch her? Almost against his will, he let his eyes drag over her again in reluctant perusal. She was tall, almost startlingly tall for a woman, and very straight up and down.

He had noticed her lack of curves on stage, for she had slim boyish hips and no bosom to speak of, fantastic legs though. He had supposed that was why she was the one dressed as a shepherd boy, while her sister paraded in frills and bows. “You ask that I refrain from interfering in your affairs?” he said slowly, trying to dredge up some semblance of her meaning.

“Precisely.” She sat back in her seat looking flushed and pleased with herself. “I am so glad you believe in forthright speech, Mr. Dabney. I cannot tell you what a relief it is not having to beat about the bush.”