“That woman defies many things, including decency,” Conyers muttered, waving Monckton forward to pour him another port.
Denys chose to ignore that. They’d had that particular argument about Lola often enough in the past. “By allowing Jacob to cast her in the play, with two roles for which to prepare, she’ll have no time and little cause to make trouble. And acting’s always been her ambition. In a small way, we’re allowing her to satisfy it. Where’s the harm in that?”
“The plan was to get rid of her, not pacify her!”
“I made her an offer. She refused.” He spread his arms in a gesture of inevitability. “What would you have had me do?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” The earl rubbed a hand irritably around the back of his neck. “Keep raising the offer until she agreed.”
“You might give me some credit, Father. I raised my offer as high as thirty thousand pounds, but she refused to sell. No amount, she said, would be enough. I believe she meant it.”
“In which circumstance, you were supposed to offer to sell our share to her.”
He shook his head. “That wasn’t possible.”
“And why not?”
He stirred in his chair. “I have no intention of surrendering our share of a profitable business, one that I built. When you and Henry bought the Imperial, it was barely scraping by, but now, it’s one of London’s most prestigious theaters. I made it what it is today, and I’ll be damned if I’ll surrender what I accomplished because Henry did something mad.”
“So this is about your pride?”
Denys met his father’s angry gaze with a cool, determined one of his own. “You could say that, yes.”
His father sighed, seeming to back down a bit. “I suppose I see your point. But why let Jacob give her a place in the company or a part in the play? You could have persuaded him to refuse her. Being cut to ribbons by Jacob Roth would have made her more amenable to selling, I daresay.”
“I doubt it. Besides, it’s never good policy to ask people to lie, and shredding her performance would have been a lie. I wouldn’t have dreamt of asking Jacob to do so. It would not be right. It would not be—” He paused, grimacing. “Fair.”
“Yes, yes, I suppose it sounds unethical when you put it like that.” The earl leaned back in his chair, eying his son unhappily. “God, Denys, I hope you know what you’re doing. That woman is your nemesis.”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?”
“Is it? I don’t need to remind you of how deeply she got her hooks into you, surely? Of how much you went into debt? Of how often you flitted off to France and neglected your estate—an estate I gave you upon your coming of age, one you mortgaged—”
“You don’t need to remind me of my past follies,” he cut in. “I’ve changed, Father, a fact you remarked on just yesterday. If you’ve revised your opinion in light of this—”
“I haven’t done anything of the kind,” Conyers interrupted, pushing that concern aside with a wave of his hands.
“Then why rehash the past?”
“Because you’re my son, damn it all, and I love you. And,” he rushed on before either of them could be embarrassed by such a frank declaration, “I have a duty to see that you don’t repeat past mistakes. Even now, I cannot help but fear that woman’s influence upon you.”
Denys knew his father was speaking from deep and genuine affection, and he had to swallow hard before he could reply. “You needn’t worry. Miss Valentine may have a part in the play, but I shan’t be directing her. In fact, I can’t see having much to do with her at all. She’s Jacob’s headache now, not mine.”
“That woman isn’t just a headache. She’s a nightmare.”
“Only until one wakes up.”
“And have you?” Conyers gave him a searching glance. “Have you woken up? Had I asked you that yesterday, I would have been sure of your answer, but this day has given me cause to doubt.”
Those words cut deep. His passion for Lola had almost ruined his life and his future and torn apart his family. It was quite understandable for his parent to be concerned, but Denys had no intention of going down that road again.
“In assuaging your doubts, Father, I must allow the past few years to speak for me. As I said, Miss Valentine is no longer my concern. Jacob is the director, and he shall be the one who has to manage her. I am quite happy to let him. In fact,” he added as he set aside his glass and stood up, “I doubt I shall even see her again until opening night.”
Chapter 8
Denys might have assured his father he wouldn’t be seeing Lola again until Othello opened, but it took only twelve hours for her to prove him wrong. He’d been at his desk a mere forty minutes the following morning before Dawson was opening his office door to announce, “Miss Valentine to see you, sir.”
“What the devil?” He looked up, but he had no chance to instruct Dawson to tell her he was unavailable. The secretary had already stepped aside, allowing Lola to walk right in.
“Good morning,” she greeted him as she came toward his desk, the frothy concoction of aquamarine silk and cream-colored lace she wore rustling as she walked. “Thank you for seeing me.”
“I didn’t seem to have a say in the matter,” he muttered as he stood up, wishing he’d thought to tell his secretary that Lola Valentine was not to set foot in his office again without his permission.
Vowing to make that clear to his secretary at the first opportunity, he turned his attention to Lola, but Dawson spoke before he could inform her that he was too busy for a conversation.
“May I bring you some refreshment, Miss Valentine?”
“Miss Valentine won’t be staying long enough for that,” he answered before she could reply. “You may go Dawson.”
He regretted the dismissal the moment he uttered it, for when the secretary departed, he closed the door behind him, and suddenly, the room seemed far too intimate.
“I didn’t know if you would be in,” she said, “but I thought I’d take a chance. I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you.”
“You’re not,” he said, his assurance as much for his own benefit as hers. Surprise visit or no, he had no intention of allowing himself to be disturbed by her in any way.
That resolution had barely crossed his mind before she moved closer to his desk, and the delicate scent of jasmine was a forcible reminder of sultry afternoons in bed with her. Valiantly, he ignored it.
“What do you want, Lola?”
The question was curt, his tone barely cordial, but if she noticed, she gave no sign. “Nothing earth-shattering. I simply wanted to inquire when we shall be convening our first partners’ meeting.”
So much for thinking she’d be satisfied with a part in the play and would leave him in peace. “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he hedged. “There is no need for a meeting at this time.”
“No need?”
“The annual partnership meeting convenes in January. It’s always been a formality, of course, for Henry never felt compelled to attend. But if you wish to do so, that is your prerogative.”
“I do, yes, but that’s almost nine months away. I should think a change of partners warrants a meeting now, don’t you agree?”
He didn’t, but she gave him no chance to say so. “As long it’s not during rehearsals,” she went on, “I’m happy with any date and time within the next week or two that would be convenient for you.”
He feared no time would ever be convenient. Lola, alas, was not a convenient sort of woman. “Whatever you wish to discuss, let’s discuss it now.” He gestured to the chair opposite, and when she accepted the offered seat, he resumed his own. “Best to have it over and be done, I suppose.”
“It’s not a matter of having it ‘over,’ as you put it,” she said as she settled her skirts around her. “We need to discuss how we’ll operate under our new partnership. Set up our ground rules, so to speak.”
“Ground rules?”
“Yes. I should li
ke to review the first-quarter financial statements. The box office receipts, expenditures, production costs, all that sort of thing.”
“Certainly. I am happy to forward them to you. Inform Dawson where you wish them to be delivered—to the Savoy, or to the office of your solicitors—and you can peruse them at your leisure. Now, if that is all . . .”
He started to stand up, but Lola did not take the hint, and he sank back into his chair. “Obviously, it’s not,” he muttered.
“I think reviewing the company’s financial condition is something that we ought to do together.”
He stiffened. “That is neither necessary nor appropriate.”
“Denys, we each own fifty percent. Neither of us has a controlling interest, so it’s important that we learn to discuss and decide things for the Imperial together.”
“Henry never found it necessary to involve himself in the running of the Imperial. Why should you?”
“Because I want to be involved. Henry didn’t, partly because he was three thousand miles away and partly because he had many other projects that required his attention.”
“You’re pretty occupied yourself these days. Or isn’t being in the play and understudying the lead enough to keep you busy?”
“I’m not doing this to keep busy. I am your partner, and unlike Henry, I have no desire to be a silent one. I appreciate that this isn’t easy for you, and I’m sorry about that, but it can’t be helped.”
“Just what is it you hope to accomplish here, Lola?”
“Theater is my life, Denys. I want to participate in all facets of it.”
“Why?” he demanded. “Why can’t performing be enough to satisfy you?”
“Why can’t managing your estate be enough to satisfy you?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Because you love the challenges that being a man of business provide you, that’s why. I’m not any different.”
“You can hardly be a man of business, Lola. Because you’re not a man.”
“Which gives me all the more reason to want a say in what we do here.” She smiled a little, seeming to perceive his utter bafflement. “I can see that makes no sense to you. But why should it? You’re a man.”
“If you’re trying to tell me you’ve become a suffragist—”
“Heavens, no. I wouldn’t mind being allowed to vote, for I think it’s ridiculous that women can’t. But I’m not going to go marching in the streets or chain myself to railings. I do, however, want to be taken seriously in what I do.”
“So why not content yourself with acting? Good actresses are taken seriously.”
“Yes, as long as they do the plays their producers and investors and agents decide they should do.” She leaned forward in her chair. “Henry would have dinner with investors, and sometimes, he would take me along.”
Denys did not want to hear about her and Henry, and he stirred restlessly in his chair, but she didn’t take the hint. “Henry,” she went on, “always gave me the chance to talk to those men, tell them my ideas, but if any of those ideas were different from what I was already doing, the answer was always no. Those men were happy to back my show, but only if it was a Lola Valentine show, with plenty of cleavage showing, and lots of bawdy songs and jokes. If I wanted to put a dramatic sketch in there, or I wanted to sing a ballad? Forget it. Do you know how tired I got of kicking off the man’s hat, Denys? But I always had to put that bit in the show. I was never, ever allowed to take it out.”
“Because that’s what the audience had come to see.”
“Yes, but it was my show,” she said, laughing a little, pressing a hand to her chest. “I’d created it, all of it was my vision. And yet, not one of those investors could ever trust that my next creative idea would be as appealing to the audience as one I’d already come up with. I had become the victim of my own success. No one wanted me to do anything else.”
“There are business reasons for those sorts of boundaries. You and I stepped outside those boundaries when I financed A Doll’s House, and look what happened.”
“Which is why I want to be part of deciding where those boundaries are. It’s not just about wanting to perform, Denys. It’s about so much more than that. If I want to play Lady Macbeth, I don’t want to sit by powerless while someone else decides what costumes I’ll wear, and what sets I stand on, and which director I’ll work with. I want to be a part of making those decisions.”
“You want a great deal.”
“Yes,” she said simply. “I do. But I am willing to work for it. And I know I have a lot to learn.”
“And I’m supposed to teach you, is that it?”
“I think we can teach each other. The Imperial is a Shakespearean theater, and that’s a limited repertoire, so the only way to keep things fresh is to innovate within each production, and I have plenty of ideas on that score.”
“Keep things fresh?” He stirred, impatient. “This is England. That’s not the way we do it.”
“Maybe it should be.”
He shook his head, for it was clear she didn’t have a clue what British audiences would accept, but before he could point that out, she went on, “I realize what I’m asking for is going to be difficult for you—for both of us—especially at first, but this is the best chance I’ll ever have to be in control of my own career and express my creative ideas, to show my vision of what good drama could be. I need to be involved. The alternative is to sit passively by while you—or some other producer at some other theater company—makes those the decisions for me. I won’t do that, Denys. Not when I have the chance to do more. I can’t.”
Of course she couldn’t do it. His gaze slid down to her full, rouged lips, along her slender throat, and over the curves of her generous bosom. Lola, he remembered full well, had never been passive.
Desire shimmered through him before he could stop it, and furious with himself, he jerked his gaze back up to her face. “Considering our past—”
“Can’t we forget the past?”
Given that he had asked his father to do that very thing the night before, he couldn’t very well refuse to do so himself, but when Lola leaned closer, the scent of jasmine floated to him across the desk, a potent reminder of all that had once been between them, and the desire in his body began to deepen and spread.
“We are business partners,” she went on, as he tried to force back the desire overtaking him. “Can’t we get along? Respect each other’s strengths? Work amicably as colleagues?”
“Colleagues?” He lurched to his feet with such force that the movement sent his mahogany office chair rolling backward across the floorboards. It hit the credenza behind him with a bang.
The sound made her wince, but she didn’t stand up, and he knew he had to be brutally forthright, or she’d never leave him in peace.
“I can see I need to make you aware of exactly where you stand and what you may and may not expect from this partnership.” He leaned forward, flattening his palms on his desk. “When Henry and my father bought the Imperial, it was a shabby, second-rate theater that on a good night was never more than half-full. I built it into what it is now, and I accomplished that on my own. I didn’t need Henry to work with me, and I certainly don’t need you. And I will not risk what I’ve built, taint my reputation, and bank on your notions of good drama when you have no knowledge whatsoever of the business implications. You have ideas? Well and good. Present them to Jacob. I’m sure he’ll consider them, and if they have merit, he’ll bring them to me.”
She opened her mouth, but he didn’t give her time to offer a reply.
“As to the rest, you have every right to copies of the financial statements, and I will forward them to you each month, just as I did for Henry. In addition, I am perfectly willing to allow you to examine the premises and audit the accounts whenever you wish, and I can bring in one of my clerks to provide any clarification you may require and to answer any questions you may have. If you prefer, you may involve an accounting clerk of your own choosing, or have t
he accounts examined by your solicitors. That is all I intend to offer you. By the terms of Henry’s will, we are—at least for the present—forced to be partners, but we shall never be colleagues. I hope I have been clear enough?”
“I’m afraid you have.” She rose slowly to her feet. “But that doesn’t change my intentions. You have every right to mistrust me, and the only way I can overcome that is with time. I also know you resent me, but you don’t have to like me in order to work with me, and despite your enmity, I intend to keep trying to make this partnership function even if you keep refusing to cooperate with me.” She paused, but she didn’t move to leave, and as the moments went by, the silence became unbearable.
“Is that all?” he asked, trying to be cold when all he could feel was heat—the heat of anger, resentment, and desire were like fire inside him.
“There’s one more thing I want to say.” She paused. “I know I hurt you, Denys, and I’m sorry about that.”
“Are you?” His gaze raked over her, and he didn’t believe her for a second. “If you could go back, would you make a different choice?”
She squared her shoulders. “No.”
“Then don’t be a hypocrite. Don’t apologize for things you don’t regret.”
There was a tap on the door, then it opened, and Mr. Dawson appeared in the doorway, a sheaf of papers in his hands. “Begging your pardon, my lord, but Mr. Swann just delivered the application forms from yesterday’s auditions.”
Denys didn’t know whether to be exasperated or relieved by the interruption. There was plenty more he’d have liked to say to Lola, but it was probably best if he left it there. “Bring them in, Mr. Dawson. Miss Valentine,” he added with a pointed glance at her, “was just leaving.”
“That’s just it, sir. Miss Valentine is the reason I interrupted you. Her form is incomplete.” He held up the application in question, and when Denys beckoned him forward, he crossed to his employer’s side and put the sheet in Denys’s hand. “You see?” he added, indicating the blank space on the application. “Since she is here, I thought she could provide the missing information?”
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