Page 30 of A Contracted Spouse for the Prizefighter

Theo nearly tripped over her own feet. It was a good job she was clinging to his arm, or she would have been in a heap on the floor. “I-I suppose it is all a matter of perspective,” she managed to choke out.

“Indeed,” he agreed.

“Where pray are we headed for our good time?” she enquired, rallying her spirits as they crossed a street.

“I think,” he said, subjecting her to a thoughtful perusal, “that I am going to take you to a hotel.”

Theo’s eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. “A hotel?” she squawked in dismay, dragging his arm until they came to a standstill on the opposite pavement.

“Yes,” he answered calmly. “The one I am thinking of has a rather good cocktail bar.” A smile played about his lips. “Now, what did you think I was suggesting, Dorabelle?”

Dorabelle? Theo felt herself blush a deep red. “I hardly know,” she faltered. Oh, good grief. He certainly was not trying to allay her fears now, she thought, pressing a hand to her chest. Was he dallying with her? And if so, why was he bothering? Their arrangement was a business deal, not anything else.

Clem patted her hand, “I’m only teasing, Dora, no need for that expression.” He turned and hailed an approaching cab. “Mayfair,” he directed once as he had handed a flustered Theo up into the carriage. “Wards Hotel.”

She only just had time to wonder what expression her face had worn, when she gasped, realizing their direction. Theo had heard of Wards, for Sir Matthew had taken Henrietta there for lunch when it had its grand opening. Her sister had told her it was very opulent and luxurious indeed.

“Are we really going to Wards Hotel?” she asked turning toward him in excitement. “I’ve never been.”

He sat in the seat beside her. “Well, it will be my pleasure to introduce you to its delights.”

Theo was fizzing with excitement the whole way there, and once they arrived, she gawped like a tourist at the splendid gray stone frontage with its cast-iron decorations and tall handsome windows.

Once Clem had escorted her up the front steps, a uniformed doorman bowed them inside and she was struck once more with the grandness of her surroundings. Her heels echoed against marble floors as they navigated soaring columns, potted ferns, and velvet couches as Clem led her to a large rotunda bar saloon where they were seated beneath a huge domed ceiling decorated with stained glass.

“It’s fantastic!” she breathed, wide-eyed as she stared around at the smart waiters, the bandstand, and the elaborate mahogany bar. “I’ve never been anywhere so smart!”

Clem smiled at her, but as a waiter halted beside them at this point, he made no further comment instead ordering two champagne cobblers and a selection of hors d’oeuvre. Theo sighed in perfect happiness and unwound the muffler from around her neck. Clem stood and helped her remove her coat and another passing waiter took it and hung it on a coat stand.

“What is a champagne cobbler?” Theo asked with interest as soon as she was seated again.

“You’re about to find out,” he said gesturing to an approaching waiter, who held a silver tray at shoulder level.

To Theodora’s delight, their drinks were served in tall glasses and loaded with cold fruits, berries, pineapple, and orange slices. She was tempted to clap her hands as it was set down before her, so excited was she by the elaborate presentation. Another platter followed, elegantly laid out with tiny squares of toast and pate, decorated with sprinkled herbs, devilled eggs, and small intriguing-looking bundles, speared through with wooden skewers.

“Why, it’s devils on horseback!” she exclaimed after they had toasted one another, and she had sampled the first of the canapes which proved to be a stuffed prune.

Clem laughed. “I am sure they have a far fancier name for it here.”

“It’s very good. I think they have steeped it in brandy rather than tea.”

“What do you think of your cobbler?”

“It’s delicious,” she answered truthfully. “It’s quite the nicest fruit punch I have ever had.” She settled back into her seat and let her eye wander over the clientele. “Everyone looks very sleek and rich in here,” she commented critically. For her part, Theo liked a mixed company best of all, as they had found in the chop house.

Clem glanced about as though only just noticing. Unlike her, it seemed he was not a devotee of studying his fellow man. “Half of them are probably faking affluence,” he said airily. “Like me.”

Theo’s eye sparkled. “That does make them rather more interesting,” she admitted. “Do you suppose any of them are confidence tricksters or card sharps?”

A smile lurked at the corners of Clem’s lips. “Very likely,” he admitted. “That fellow there looks like a bigamist hanging out for another rich wife.”

Theo gurgled appreciatively. “Probably his fourth or fifth at least. It’s those great handlebar moustaches that do it. They inspire trust in a woman.”

“Oh really? Maybe I should grow mine,” Clem debated, stroking his upper lip.

“Oh no!” Theo disagreed with a quick shake of her head. “You have such a lovely profile.”

He laughed at that. “Now you’re flattering me. My nose has been broken at least twice.”