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“So,” he began once they had exchanged greetings, “what is new with you, Dora?” He felt her nervous start. “I did warn you,” he said with a lopsided grin.

She struggled a moment with her response. “No one calls me that,” she said at last in strangled tones.

“I do,” he said firmly and tipped her a wink.

She screwed up her eyes. “Last time we met, you did not actually address me as Dora,” she said, nervously plucking at her sleeve. He noticed her gloves at least matched today.

“I expect I did; you were just rather preoccupied with your pie. How did that turn out by the way?”

She grimaced. “Do not even ask! Even poor Harold could not force down more than a mouthful and he would do anything to be polite.”

“I thought your brother’s name was Felix,” he said slyly.

“Oh, it is. Harold is our—well, a sort of lodger. As a matter of fact, he is a fellow shareholder in The Parthenon.”

Clem’s ears pricked up. “Is he, indeed?”

“Yes, for he owns a quarter share. My uncle Barnabus sold it to him five years ago to raise funds for a production he was convinced had the makings of a huge success.” She sighed. “Alas it did not work out that way.”

“I see,” he murmured. “Unfortunate.”

“You must not think that my uncle regretted letting Harold buy into the business,” she said quickly. “My uncle was sort of a mentor to him, so it seemed to make sense for Harold had lately inherited some money he wanted to invest.”

“And now an outsider owns twenty-five percent of the theatre?”

“Yes,” she agreed, “though Harold has been with us so long he scarce seems an outsider to the family in truth.”

“A sort of second brother?” Clem suggested, shooting her a shrewd look.

Theo had the grace to blush. “Well …” she said evasively, “perhaps more of a cousin of sorts.”

Clem supposed he would have to make do with that. “What did you tell him?” he asked suddenly curious. “After he caught us together in the kitchen?”

She gave a small, uneasy laugh. “You make it sound so much more incriminating than it was, Mr. Dabney. We were hardly in flagrante delicto.”

He could see she was trying to act like a woman of the world, but her shallow breathing told him she was nothing of the sort. Also, she had a thousand tells showing her nervousness.

“I think you had better call me Clem,” he answered. “And I’ve never studied any Latin, Dora. You’ll have to use plain speech around me. I’m not a gentleman you see.”

She gave him a swift, stricken look. “It means ‘while the crime is blazing,’” she said hurriedly.

Clem frowned, for though he had spoken the truth and he was no scholar, he had come across that term before. He could have sworn it was to do with getting caught with your trousers down in. “If he is any sort of family member at all, he ought to have called me out,” he said heavily.

Theodora avoided his gaze. “Harold is not the confrontational type,” she explained, “and you are quite an intimidating specimen. I do not think anyone could really blame him. And besides, things are a little awkward between Harold and I right now.” She sounded, he thought, a little wistful.

“Why?” he heard himself ask, though it was actually none of his damn business.

“Well, he has been in my bad books of late and I have been giving him the cold shoulder. Ever since Felix told me Harold supported him in the decision to make me housekeeper.”

It trembled on Clem’s tongue to ask if she had corroborated that fact with Harold or merely taken her brother’s word for it. Then again, it suited his current purpose for her to be at outs with her family right now, even family in the loosest of senses. “So, Allsop said nothing about discovering you cozied up with a stranger in the house?” he persisted.

“Nothing whatsoever,” she agreed.

Sort of brother, my ass, thought Clem. “Is he courting? Engaged?”

She shook her head. “Poor Harold suffered a disappointment in life.”

Clem almost rolled his eyes. He looked the type. “Oh?” he said aloud, leaving a convenient silence for Theodora to fill.