Page 139

THIRTY-SIX

Clem was not prepared for the sharp knock on the door. “Come in,” he responded gruffly, guessing it was the razor he had requested and glancing at his unshaven face in the looking glass. He felt like hell, despite having washed. His suit was crumpled, and his pride dented.

Then he realized he could feel a lot worse.

Dora came into his room at the Prince Rupert Arms looking neat and pale and very serious. She shut the door behind her and sat herself down into the chair opposite him. “What’s all this I hear about you having the cheek to fire me, Clem Dabney?” she asked with perfect composure.

He reared back like she had slapped him. “How did you—? Bloody Jim! Did he tell you the rest?”

“It wasn’t really Jim’s fault. Sidney was the one that blabbed.”

“I can’t rely on any of them when it comes to you!” he said wrathfully.

“Well, that’s neither here nor there.” Theo shrugged. “I want to hear it from your lips.”

“Did he tell you about Howard’s offer?” Clem persisted. “About Twelfth Night and The Princess Royal? And starring opposite that actor, the one that plays all the big roles.” She nodded her head. “They reckon they’ll tour with it to Europe. Paris, Rome,” he listed before trailing off. “All those places.”

“Paris?” she echoed.

“You’ve always wanted to go there; you once told me.” He had to drag the words out. Each one was an effort, and he had to swallow down the bitterness rising in his throat.

“It sounds like a wonderful opportunity,” Theo said quietly.

The feeling in Clem’s gut soured. “You should do it,” he said abruptly.

“Do you really think so?”

“Of course. Your talent deserves more than being reduced to a smutty joke.”

She stiffened a moment at that, a red flush mounting her cheek. Then she seemed to force herself to relax. “Can you imagine us in Paris?” she continued lightly. Even looking at her somehow hurt. “On the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, perhaps.” She tipped her head to one side. “Since I met you Clem Dabney, all my dreams have come true.”

He gave a harsh laugh. “Nothing to do with me this time. Maurice Howard is your man.”

“And whose stage brought me to Maurice Howard’s attention? Yours. No one else’s. No one else ever afforded me the slightest chance. No one ever looked at me twice before you, Clem.” Her utter conviction defeated him. Christ. He closed his eyes a moment. He could not do this anymore.

“Dorabelle …” he started, then dropped the affectation. That was bullshit too. He had only called her that in jest. He had not thought her beautiful at the time. Far from it. “Theodora,” he started again. “Let’s just drop the act for once, love.”

Her enquiring gaze flew to meet his. “We’ve reached the end of the road and I think we both know that. I’ve got what I wanted out of this marriage and so have you. I’ve got my theatre and you’ve got your glittering career.” He swallowed. “The time has come for us to go our separate ways now. You to the left, me to the right.”

“Me to the left and you to the right,” she repeated, folding her hands in her lap. “Just what do you mean by that Clem?”

“This is where you start your real adventure,” he said coolly. “This is where you start down the path you should always have taken. Take a lover, hell, take two. You need to make up for all that time you lost.” Her pretty color drained away, then flamed back in her face livid and red.

Good, she should be angry. He was a liar and a cheat, and the blinkers needed to drop from those eyes for once. “You say no one ever looked at you twice before me,” he carried on conversationally, snatching up the half-empty bottle of liquor from the table and pouring himself a measure with hands that weren’t entirely steady. “Well, truth is, I never looked at you twice either, Dora.”

He knocked back the drink, then poured himself another, steeling himself for the task ahead. He knew exactly where to hit her. He knew all her weak spots. She had laid them bare to him over the past three months, holding nothing back. She was brave like that. Brave and … fucking foolish, laying herself open to a bastard like him.

“I know you think I took one look at you and saw your untapped potential, but the fact is Dora, that I thought you were as useless as everyone else.” He swallowed down the second shot glass of fiery liquor. It burned in his throat and numbed the self-disgust he felt clawing at his gut. “When I sent you out on the stage that first night, I fully expected you to fall flat on your arse. No one was more surprised than me when you turned that crowd.”

Carefully, he replaced the shot glass on the table before he mustered the strength to look at her again. She was sat very still and expressionless, breathing fast. Her fingers clutched at her skirts and her eyes darted here and there about the room, focusing intently first on a chair, then on a picture frame, anywhere but at him.

“There’s nothing special about our connection,” he continued brutally. “You’re just—” His words broke off as his throat closed. You’re just the latest in a long line of women who have warmed my bed was what he had intended to say but his traitorous lips would not form the words. His throat closed on them. Great, now even his ready tongue had abandoned him. He was forced to finish instead with an eloquent shrug.

“Nothing special,” Theo supplied.

Her words made him suck in his breath. “Don’t be fucking stupid,” he snarled. “They want you in The Princess Royal. They’ll want you in Paris. You’re something special alright.”

“Just not to you.”