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He caught his breath. “Of course, my sweet Dora, anything for you.” He had her there in an instant and this time let her soar. She jolted violently in his arms, gave a stifled cry, and then went so slack he thought for a moment she had gone off in a swoon. “Dora?” he asked, gathering her close.

“Clem,” she whispered, her head lolling against his shoulder.

He withdrew his hand from her skirts and started refastening her buttons. A lot of shouting and rushing about was going on below, so he guessed it must also be the climax of the play. About time, he thought as Dora stirred and struggled to sit up.

Not that he could complain about his evening’s entertainment, far from it. Wordlessly, he topped her glass and passed it to her. She sipped the last of her champagne, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

“Shall I get off your lap?” she asked.

“No.” She relaxed against him, and he passed an arm about her waist. “What the fuck is going on, on stage?” he asked conversationally after a moment.

“Essentially, they have all killed one another.”

Clem sighed. “Of course, they have.”

He didn’t want to hang about once the play was done but led her straight out to summon a hackney and kept his arm about her in the cab ride home.

Once home, Clem fetched them up washing water and they changed out of their evening finery for bed. Once he had hung up his evening suit, he turned to find Dora regarding her chemise guiltily.

“We certainly spilled champagne on this,” she said regretfully. “What will Mrs. Cherwell think?”

“She’ll think you’re somewhat clumsy with a wine glass,” he remarked.

“Yes, and not for the first time. She said she had a devil of a job getting those liqueur stains out of that one the other day.”

Clem snorted. “It’s a good thing you’re her favorite then, isn’t it?” He took the chemise from her hands and cast it over a nearby chair, then took her back into his arms. “Shall I light the fire?” he asked, feeling her shiver slightly.

“You take such good care of me,” she commented, laying a hand on his cheek. He turned his face to kiss her fingers.

“And I’m going to continue to take very good care of you,” he promised lightly. “Both of us are going to be oh-so-careful, until one day, when the timing is right …”

“What happens then?” she asked breathlessly.

“Then I’m going to put my baby here,” he said spreading his hand across her flat belly. “And you won’t even have to buy a new wardrobe,” he promised her softly. “Because all those dresses of yours and your height will hide our little secret until you’re too far along for anyone to voice any objections at all.”

Theo gave a hitched laugh. “Who would object? You’re my husband and also my employer,” she pointed out. “You can hardly sue me for not fulfilling my obligations now, can you? Not after you’re the one who …”

“Knocked you up?”

“Is that a colloquial saying for it?”

“It is, now you try it.” He could not say why he suddenly wanted to hear that rather vulgar term on her lips.

“You can hardly sue me after you’ve knocked me up, Clem Dabney,” she pointed out.

He swallowed. Christ, why did that sound so …? “I think you’ll find men can be massive fucking hypocrites,” he said thickly. “But even if the paying public were pissed, I wouldn’t even care. You know why, Dora?”

“Because you want a baby?” she asked, tipping her head to one side.

He felt the oddest sensation at these words. That wasn’t right, was it? Did he want a baby? He gave his head a slight shake. Of course, he did not want a baby. That was ridiculous. He wanted her to be content in her life, that was all. Dora smiled and leaned into him for a kiss. Immediately, Clem followed suit, chasing the strange thrill.

He could never anticipate a damn thing this woman would do, so her placing a gentle hand to his cheek should not make him breathless with want like this. He tore his mouth from hers, simply so he could get a look at her expression. Not scared, thank Christ for that. Not nervous around him now, when she probably ought to be.

Instead, she smiled dreamily up at him, and Clem felt all his innards lurch in the strangest way. “Let’s lie on the bed, Dora,” he said thickly, grabbing her hand and tugging her in that direction like some untutored, clumsy lad. Luckily Dora had no idea of polished seduction and simply followed his lead, sinking down onto the bed, gazing up at him with a steady trust that should have killed his ardor stone dead.

Almost, but not quite. She was his wife, after all. He was obligated to take care of her, so it was not foolish for her to trust in this. That’s right, she was a wife, and this actress malarkey was never going to work out. She needed a new purpose in life and a baby was the obvious choice to fulfill that purpose. That was all. He broke their kiss. “How do you feel about babies?” he demanded, suddenly spotting a flaw in this logic.

“I don’t know any,” Dora admitted cautiously. “But as a concept, it might be nice at some point in the future.”