Page 76 of A Contracted Spouse for the Prizefighter

“Clem?” Jim’s voice had him practically jumping in his seat. “You didn’t answer when I knocked on the door,” his friend and employee said, still hovering in the doorway.

Clem pulled himself together and motioned for him to enter. Jim launched into a bunch of things he wanted Clem’s say-so about, and Clem gave him half his attention, nodding and responding with a yea or a nay as the case necessitated, his pen scratching away all the while on the paper.

“Didn’t know you was an artist, Clem,” Jim said finally, clearing his throat.

“What?” Clem looked up in bewilderment.

“Your picture,” said Jim, motioning toward Clem’s ledger.

Clem glanced down and, to his utmost astonishment, saw he had been drawing Theodora’s shapely neck. What the fuck? He felt the heat rise to his face and had to resist the temptation to slam his book shut. Instead, he managed to preserve some dignity and responded, “I—er—was always considered pretty fair at drawing at school.”

Jim nodded, still eyeing the page, and Clem’s fingers twitched to snatch it out of view. “You should get her to pose for you.”

“Who?”

Jim gave him an odd look. “Your wife, of course. That’s who it is, isn’t it? Plain to see.”

Clem’s collar felt too tight. Fucking Jim. When had he ever been so chatty? “Yes, well …” he said dismissively.

“Which changing room’s gonna be ‘er’s?” Jim asked.

Clem drummed his fingers against the table. “She hasn’t even got a date yet for her debut,” he pointed out cuttingly. “Don’t you think you’re trying to put the cart before the horse?”

“Well, she was asking me about some props she wanted—” Jim began, and Clem started up from his seat. Talk of Dora’s stage debut always made him damnably uneasy these days.

“Just give her the keys to the storerooms and let her poke around in there to her heart’s content next time she’s in,” he snapped. “She’s sure to find something,” he added. “She’s easily pleased.” For some reason, his throat closed on these last few words, and he had to turn his head aside.

“You alright, boss?” Jim asked, sounding alarmed.

Clem nodded. “Just need some fresh air,” he said shortly, snatching up his jacket. “If anyone wants me, I’ll be back in an hour.”

He had walked ten minutes in the bracing March air before he even realized where he was headed. Once he had reached the outfitter’s establishment, he let himself in and scanned the busy room for Charlie Finch. Spotting Clem, the tailor came forward with surprise, “Wasn’t expecting you,” he started.

“What the hell do you mean by sending for my wife at such short notice, Finch?” Clem started coldly. “And in regular hours too. Thought that was absolutely something you could never accommodate at J. Finch & Sons when I set up the initial appointment.”

Charlie shot a quick assessing look at him and led him through to the back room. “I did apologize to your missus,” he said placatingly, “but knowing how keen she was to get the suits back … when I had a vacant spot come up, I thought …”

“Well, you thought wrong, damn you!” Clem burst out. “As it happens, I do not care for my wife having to be squired about by all and sundry and I certainly do not care to have her visiting a gentleman’s tailor unless it’s on my arm, am I understood?”

Charlie nodded, looking a little pale and nervous. “As it ‘appens you don’t need to worry,” he said, licking his lips. “That other fella was nearly as bad as you, looming on the other side of the curtain.”

That did not make Clem feel better, something Charlie seemed to pick up on almost at once. He swallowed and lapsed into an awkward silence.

“Was she pleased with them?” Clem asked after a moment, his voice surly.

“Couldn’t have been happier, though I don’t fink she really has much of a clue how a suit’s put together, like.”

Clem grunted. “Very likely.”

“You thought to get her any shoes, guv?” the tailor asked.

“Shoes?”

Finch shrugged. “Only she mentioned stealing her brother’s old pair and stuffing the toes wiv’ newspaper. Be a crime that would, to team up a new suit, let alone a morning suit wiv’ an old pair wot don’t fit even fit ‘er.”

Clem considered this. “No, I had not thought of that,” he said slowly. “By the way, what do I owe you?”

Charlie took him out front and Clem paid the running balance and left the shop in a slightly better mood. He could not buy dress shoes at once, for he had no clue of her shoe size, but he would see to that later. There was plenty of time before Dora’s ill-fated debut. If he could help it anyway.