Page 32 of A Contracted Spouse for the Prizefighter

Theo frowned, ignoring the second glass she had not yet touched. “You are reticent when it comes to family matters, I find.”

He shifted in his seat. “Not especially,” he disagreed, then seemed to realize he was not proving his point. “The uncles I must have mentioned were my mother’s brothers. They worked at the docks their whole life. One, Miles, died five years ago. The other, Dan, is a widower. I lived with him and my Aunt Nancy for a while when I first came to London. They were a grand couple but never had any children. Miles had a couple of daughters. One married a barber, I think, and they moved away years ago. Up north somewhere. The other, my cousin Grace, looks after Uncle Dan now and takes in laundry to make ends meet.”

Theo nodded slowly. “You said when you came to London. Where did you come to London from?”

Clem drained his glass and held it up, catching another waiter’s eye. “I boarded at a school on the south coast from the age of six to fifteen years.”

“The south coast?”

“Hampshire.”

“Oh, I thought I could detect some sort of accent there … Nine years? That is a long time. All that time at one school?” He nodded. “And then you came to London?” He nodded again and she was just starting to think she’d had her lot when he spoke again.

“My mother died when I was six,” he said catching her off guard. “That was when my father remarried and sent me away to school.”

“Was it a good school?” she asked hopefully.

“No, not especially, though I was no scholar, so maybe they did their best. I learned my letters and my numbers and how to stand up for myself and then they turned me loose to make my way in life.” There was an odd inflection to his words that Theo could not quite make out.

She shivered, as though a cold shadow had stolen over them, which had no place in their delightful surroundings. Suddenly, she wished she had not raised the specter of his past between them. “I’m sorry,” she blurted impulsively. “I should not have pushed a subject you find painful.”

“Painful?” He sounded surprised. “Nothing of the sort. I just find it … uninteresting.”

“So then, let us talk of something else,” she suggested heartily. “Something you do find interesting.”

He shot her a genuine smile at this which touched his hazel eyes, warming them, and the next hour and a half flew by, though afterwards Theo could not recall all too clearly what they had discussed. Whatever it had been, it had been diverting and amusing and had completely distracted her from her cares and woes at home.

She had certainly felt quite tipsy by the time Clem had handed her up into a hansom cab, kissed her hand, and sent her back to Juniper Row. She spent the afternoon sleeping it off in the most comfortable armchair before the biggest fire she dared to light considering their dwindling coal supplies.

When she woke three hours later, she found someone, probably Harold, had draped a woolen blanket over her legs and added the last of the coal scuttle to the fire. For the first time in a while, life felt, on the whole, pretty good.

TEN

Clem paused before a shop window to examine his reflection critically. If his jade green waistcoat was pushing the boundaries of taste, then his lucky horseshoe diamond pin was beyond the pale, but in truth, he was heartily sick of dressing conservatively. Besides, it was his wedding day. The more he got to know Dora, the less he thought she would be shocked by the fact her soon-to-be-husband was a brash son of a bitch.

In any case, he had better ease her into at least a passing acquaintanceship with the real Clem Dabney or she was in for a hell of a rude awakening. One of these days, she was going to find out he was nothing but a calculating swine who now held a controlling interest in her family business. When that day came, there would be no more charming her with cocktails and luncheons out. For some reason, this put an irritable frown on his face as he crossed the road on his way to church.

It was likely poor sleep that had him feeling out of sorts, he reasoned. He had spent an uncomfortable night on a couch in his office at The Eagle & Sun after moving his belongings out of Mrs. O’Malley’s. Up until this point, he had thought the sofa a perfectly functioning piece of furniture, but a night spent trying not to roll off it while a half dozen coil springs dug into his side, had taught him otherwise.

Fortunately, he had the prospect of a comfortable bed ahead of him, for he had engaged a suite at Wards Hotel for their wedding night. It was an extravagance, but what the hell, it was the least he could do, he reasoned to himself. After all, his poor deceived bride deserved a little pleasure from her wedding day. A stay in a grand hotel would thrill her little heart to no end, even if sharing a suite with him would put her in a terrible fluster.

Her twenty-six years had afforded her precious little by way of treats as far as he could tell. He might almost say she had been deprived of them, despite the fact there was money or at least property in her background. That thought at least brought a faint smile to his lips. After today, he would have control of his own theatre at last and an ambition of several years would be realized.

There was, however, another emotion lurking somewhere in the shadowy corners of his soul. He examined it now with some trepidation. Strange to say, it was not cold feet or regret or any of the conventional feelings a bachelor was supposed to feel on his wedding morning. In truth, he was not sure what it was, but if pushed he would have to admit he felt a little sad that his courtship of Theodora Fields was at an end.

This realization almost made him lose his footing as he stepped from a raised curb. It was ridiculous to be feeling sad when he was about to secure his claim on The Parthenon. It was just that, somehow, he had sort of enjoyed the role of indulgent fiancé during the past few weeks. He had been damned good at it too, and against all expectation, he had derived some gratification from the fact Dora so patently did think that of him in that light.

Clem did not think anyone else in his life had considered him a kindly benefactor. He gave money every month to his cousin Grace to help provide for their uncle in his old age, but Grace clearly thought that was the least he could do, and he supposed she was right all things considered.

Uncle Dan had been good to him in the year after he had left school, providing him with a roof over his head and Clem did not begrudge the money. He did, however, begrudge the time he spent in their cramped parlor every second Saturday, trying to hold onto the loose thread of the old man’s conversation as Grace stood in the doorway and lectured Clem on the godless direction of his life.

Would Dora soon agree he was an immoral pleasure-seeker, steeped in sin and infamy? Grace disapproved of music halls even more than she had boxing. Luckily, Clem did not much care what his cousin thought, and her haranguing rolled off his broad shoulders like water off a duck’s back.

Of course, once Dora was his wife, she would not continue in such blissful ignorance of his character, but maybe after all, he should encourage her good opinion for as long as he could? His steps slowed as he considered this approach. It would certainly make things much easier for him to maneuver her along the path he saw laying ahead of them.

Not that he had been planning to start treating her with indifference as soon as the ceremony was done, but she would have to learn about his duplicity at some point. Need that be right away though? After all, there was no point in throwing barriers in their way before it was strictly necessary …

The poor thing would be in for a rough enough time of it when her dreams about a stage career came crashing down about her ears. No, it would be better if he was still the solicitous ally when that crisis came. That way he could console her and find her some other cause to throw her considerable energy into. Maybe motherhood, he thought casually, and once again, paused with shock at the direction of his own thoughts.