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Clem gazed at her, wondering if she really thought anything about her extraordinary speech was forthright. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Miss Fields,” he admitted. Her face fell. “Except that you do not disapprove of extra-marital affairs. Are you perhaps telling me that you have a lover?”

Theodora’s face turned suddenly crimson. “No … er … no!” she stammered, lifting a hand to tug at her neck scarf as though her throat was suddenly constricted. “Oh dear, I do not seem to have explained myself clearly after all and I practiced the speech most assiduously.”

Clem took pity on her flustered state. Theodora Fields was a poor specimen of womanhood, but he liked women, always had. He was unfailingly polite even to old ladies as a rule. “You have a proposition for me, is that it?” he drawled, withdrawing his cigar case from his waistcoat pocket. “Perhaps we should start with that.”

She took a deep breath. “Yes, thank you.” She smiled at him gratefully. “I will endeavor to make my meaning plainer this time.” In her enthusiasm, she let her handbag fall with a clatter onto the floor, resting a gloved hand on his desk. She did not even glance down at her fallen reticule which had spilled a jumbled assortment of personal items onto the floor.

He noticed that her gloves did not actually match. One was black and the other navy blue. She was either very nervous or very eccentric. He remembered her somewhat combative speech from the theatre the other night. She had not seemed scatty then, far from it. Maybe it was just nerves. He gave her his blandest, most non-threatening smile. “You were saying?”

“You see, I own a quarter share of the theatre,” she said, and his ears did perk up at that. Had she come to him with the same offer as her sister? To sell her twenty-five percent. His brain scrambled. Could he raise the money if he rearranged some of his investments? It would be tight. Perhaps he could take on a few prizefights to cover the shortfall? Or maybe she would expect less money for her shares than her canny sister had.

“If you were to marry me,” she said, her words breaking over him like a bucket of ice-cold water. “Well then, that would put you in a shareholder’s position.”

Clem’s hand froze in the act of opening his cigar case. “Marry you?” he managed to force out.

She nodded. “Yes, for you see, unmarried, my shares get managed by my brother. I barely get any say-so in the business. If I had a husband, however …” When he did not take the bait, she rushed once more into speech. “You would be able to espouse my cause.”

Clem’s mind worked rapidly. Theodora’s percentage added to her sister’s would give him a controlling interest in The Parthenon. He let his eyelids drop to hide the avaricious gleam no doubt shining from his eyes as he considered the matter. “You have discussed this matter with the other shareholders?” he asked casually.

The color in her cheeks once more ebbed and flowed. “N-no,” she admitted. “My brother would be far from sympathetic. He—er—well, he has made it plain that he expects to rule the roost at the theatre from now on, and that he expects me to fade into the background now Hetty is to marry.”

“And that does not appeal to you, Miss Fields?”

She shook her head resolutely and he stifled a wince. He had thought Felix Fields a pompous prig, but in this instance, Clem did not think he was far wrong. The pretty sister had been the draw of the act and this one the dross. How old was she? It was hard to tell in her ill-fitting coat and shabby bonnet. She had looked younger on stage, but that could be achieved with lights and make-up.

Maybe she was desperate to get off the shelf? Even so, he was a poor prospect for matrimony. “I confess to an interest in your twenty-five percent,” he said slowly, “but marriage has never held much appeal for me.”

She nodded as though in perfect understanding. “As I said, I will not interfere in your established lifestyle, Mr. Dabney.”

Oh yes, she had said something of that sort. He frowned. “A husband can be just as inconvenient as a brother, I think you’ll find,” he said wryly.

“Oh, but not you,” she said quickly. “You have no desire for a wife, just as I have none for a husband.”

“If you have no desire for a husband, I wonder rather at the nature of your proposal. You could just sell me your shares,” he pointed out.

“Never!” Two spots of color had appeared on her cheeks. “I would never, never sell my share in The Parthenon!” Seeing his raised brows, she strove to collect herself. “No one from my family would ever countenance such a thing!” she claimed staunchly.

Well, there was the answer to his unspoken question. Her sister had not confided in her. Theodora was wholly unaware that, by marrying him, she would be gifting him with the majority share of The Parthenon’s ownership. He felt a little trill of excitement at the prospect of pulling off such a coup.

“Besides,” she continued bitterly, “Felix would only consult a solicitor and say I had been imposed upon or something of that nature. He refuses to consider me my own creature.” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “No, I have looked upon it from every angle and I simply cannot continue with my chosen career unless I have a husband who, at least nominally, supports it.”

Clem had a struggle not to roll his eyes. He was strongly convinced her career without her sister would not last more than a few months before collapsing altogether. Or did she expect him to supply her with an endless collection of roles once he was at the reins? “You expect your husband to act as your manager, then?” he asked dryly. The thought gave him little pleasure. Was there a spot somewhere mid-bill he could stick a gangly spinster without raising too much scorn?

She would not actually be a spinster, a cold voice whispered in his ear, reminding him. She would be his wife. He gave an involuntary shudder. Still … a fifty percent share. That was not to be sniffed at. He subjected her to another scrutinizing glance and managed not to grimace. “How old are you?” he heard himself ask, striking a match and lighting his cigar.

She answered promptly and without rancor. “Twenty-six.”

Old enough to know better, he thought blowing out a puff of cigar smoke. “Ever been booed off stage?” he asked, gazing at the tip of his cigar. Mayhap a cold dose of reality would be enough to shock her out of her crazy notions of going solo. Such as choking spectacularly on stage. He almost dreaded to think how a prim, sheltered miss like Theodora Fields would cope if she was thrust center stage at one of his own rowdy productions.

The Parthenon had been mostly empty on his own visit, but he had recognized they cultivated a particular crowd there. Their patrons were neither the aristocracy nor the working classes, but a middle ground as it were. They catered to the rising middle classes who pursued culture but expected it to be imminently respectable as they were.

How would Theodora Fields react if she had performed her insipid play in front of a crowd of hecklers at The Eagle and Sun? By either bursting into tears or wetting her drawers, was his own guess. He pondered this as a possible outcome. What if he allowed this to happen? Oh, he could be callous alright, in business, that was. Usually, he was far more gallant toward the ladies though. Still … he eyed her askance; she had approached him with this in the light of a business proposal, had she not?

He let a slow smile spread over his face and watched a hint of wariness enter Miss Fields’ demeanor. So … she was not entirely without instinct, he was pleased to see. She was the rabbit to his wily fox, hopping around in front of him and showing him her fluffy tail in such an absurd fashion. “Why don’t you tell me about this career you envisage for yourself, now your sister has upped sticks,” he suggested in a friendlier manner.

She threw him a grateful look, and he guessed most people in her life had told her flat that she had no place front of stage anymore. Those people had her best interests at heart, he thought wryly. Him, not so much.

She took a steadying breath before beginning. “The Turtle Doves may have disbanded, but I was also raised in the business. I have performed as a male impersonator since I numbered thirteen years.”