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A Contracted Spouse for the Prizefighter

Page 23

by Alice Coldbreath

“Can we not be friends again?” he blurted. “I know I do not deserve it, after … after all that has happened, but I hate this,” he said slashing a hand through the air and looking as flustered as she had seen him. “I hate that you have been turned into a servant in your own home!”

Theo gave a short mirthless laugh. “If I truly was a domestic, I would have been dismissed weeks ago,” she pointed out. “But Felix can hardly turn me out when I own a third of the house.” Even she was shocked to hear the bitterness in her tone. Harold looked stricken by it.

“I-I’m so sorry Theo,” he said sounding shaken. “I truly am. I had no idea …”

“No idea that I would take it so hard when you agreed to Felix’s scheme?” she asked quietly.

He flushed bright red and hung his head. “You have every right to be angry,” he said drawing in a shaky breath. “I was … thoughtless. Wrapped up in my own cares. I did not consider your feelings at all. I was a bad friend.”

“Yes, you were,” Theo agreed, gesturing toward the table. “Will you join me? I was about to take a cup of tea. It should be brewed by now.”

His expression brightened and he hurried to pull back a seat and lower himself into it. Theo fetched another cup and saucer before she joined him and poured out two cups of the strong, hot tea. Harold accepted his with thanks, his anxious gaze watching her every move.

“There isn’t any sugar,” Theo told him unapologetically. “I could not find any East Indian at the store and I did not wish to support the slave trade by buying the other kind. It seems I shall have to go further afield to purchase some.”

“Oh—er quite right,” Harold murmured hurriedly before lapsing into an awkward silence. Absently, he brushed some breadcrumbs into a little pile. “Will you—er—will you not take your meals with us again?” he asked hopefully. “Without you and Henrietta, we are a sorry pair at table. I miss the old days. How merry we were before Barnabus died.”

Henrietta took a swig of tea, considering how to make a reply. “There is little cheer for me at all these days, Harold,” she said truthfully. “And sitting with the two of you making faces over your every mouthful, makes me even more miserable. I am wholly aware of how inadequate I am in my new duties.”

“I—” A spasm passed over his features. “That is not your fault. Your uncle never intended for you to preside over the kitchen. You have not been taught any of the skills. It is too bad of Felix, and I-I should have stood up to him,” he finished in a rush. “Our monetary woes should not have been made into a rod to beat you with.”

They gazed at one another a moment in silence. “Thank you,” Theo responded simply. She had already known The Parthenon was in trouble financially, but things must be even more dire than she had supposed.

“What can I do?” Harold said wretchedly. “I have tried to speak to Felix. This week when you started depriving us of your company, I realized I had to do something. But he is such a stubborn fellow, he simply will not listen to reason.”

“We both know how Felix is,” Theo agreed, topping up their cups from the teapot. “The only way of stopping him in his tracks would be a dose of arsenic in his supper.” Harold’s face paled. “That was a joke,” Theo added dryly. His shoulders slumped with relief.

“I know that none of you have any faith in my stage ability,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster and ignoring Harold’s feeble sound of protest, “but I have not wholly given up on my chosen career in life.”

She bit her lip and met Harold’s gaze head-on. “Can I trust you, Harold?” she asked.

He nodded vehemently. “I wish you would. You always used to.”

“I have a scheme afoot. There is one who trusts in me,” she said swallowing. “Two actually,” she said remembering Lil. “And we are working on my … my debut. You once said that you did not mind what I did with all those tunes you wrote for Henrietta and myself …”

He waved a hand. “I make you a present of them. Truly, I do not care if you rip up the song sheets and re-write them completely.”

That was lucky, thought Theo. She gave him a cautious smile. “Thank you,” she repeated. “I am truly grateful for that.”

He smiled weakly back. “Is there really nothing else I can do?” he asked wretchedly. “To make things up to you, I mean? Those songs are really nothing. Far from my best work.”

Theo shook her head. “I do not think so, unless you could start clearing your plates and pronouncing my cuisine fit for a king.” Harold blanched and she could not help but laugh at his reaction.

Harold gave a weak smile in rejoinder. “I have missed your laugh,” he confessed in a rush, then seemed to clam up. “Is this person—the one who believes in you—is it the man who—?” He broke off with a quick shake of his head. “Forgive me, I ought not to have asked.”

Theo propped her chin on her hand and surveyed him thoughtfully. “Did you tell anyone?” she asked. “About the day you came upon us together?”

“No, I was not quite such a heel as all that,” he said flushing.

Theo nodded slowly. “There is something else you can do, Harold,” she decided suddenly. “Soon, something is going to happen,” she admitted making his face tighten with concern. “Felix will be furious and very shocked. But if you could stand staunch as my friend, and … and support me in my decisions. If you could only insist that I am in my right senses and that you have every faith in me. That would truly cement our friendship and wipe the slate clean.”

Harold who had looked increasingly alarmed with her every word, now looked torn. His expression wavered under her steady gaze. “Very well,” he said at last, gulping and lifting his chin. “After all, it is the least I can do. Your uncle would want me to support you. I only hope that Henrietta …” His words drifted off and Theo suddenly wondered if Harold had nursed rather more affection for her sister all these years than she had realized. For some reason, the thought did not pain her as it would have once.

She smiled at Harold when she realized he was not going to finish his sentence and thrust her hand across the table at him. He blinked, then shook it, his grip much laxer than her own. “Friends,” she pronounced firmly.

“Always,” he agreed, and Theo’s heart felt considerably lighter to hear it.

EIGHT