No Mistress of Mine

by Laura Lee Guhrke

  “Making the move one of pure retaliation on your part,” Nick pointed out. “I know you were hurting and angry as hell because Lola had just left you, and three sheets to the wind besides, but still, you crossed the line there, old chap—”

  “Did I?” he countered, his defensiveness increasing because he knew that accusation was true. “You let Lola live with you when she went back to Paris.”

  “I was there, too,” Jack piped up, but he was ignored.

  “She came to me as a friend,” Nick defended himself. “She arrived on our doorstep and told me the play had closed, she couldn’t find work in London anymore, and she didn’t have money and needed a place to live until she could afford a flat of her own. What was I supposed to do? Toss her into the street?”

  “You’re my friend, damn it. You ought to have advised her to come back to me and allow me to take care of her. But is that what you did? No. And when Henry came after her, did you tell him to sod off? No, you told him where she was working.”

  “How could I have known he intended to spirit her off to New York? He was a friend of your family, for God’s sake, and old enough to be her father.”

  “Thank you, Nick,” Denys muttered. “That’s such a comforting reminder.”

  “Gentlemen, please,” Stuart cut in, “let’s not have a row. I’m enjoying this evening, and I’ve no intention of allowing idiotic peccadilloes of our wilder days spoil it.” He lifted his glass. “It’s damned good to see all of you, something that doesn’t happen often enough, to my mind.”

  All of them raised their glasses in hearty agreement with that sentiment, temptations to quarrel were laid aside, and the friendship that had lasted most of their lives was reaffirmed.

  “Sorry, Nick,” Denys said, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “That’s all water under the bridge, honestly, and I don’t blame you for what happened.”

  “Apology accepted,” Nick said at once.

  “What about me?” Pongo demanded good-naturedly. “Am I not entitled to an apology, too? It was my girl Denys attempted to abscond with the day after Lola left.”

  “Your girl?” Denys made a scoffing sound. “She was a barmaid you’d met the night before. And the fact that you seized the barkeep’s pistol, pointed it at me after I’d barely asked the girl to dinner, and accidentally shot Nick in the process cancels out any right you might have had to an apology. We were both drunk and out of our senses. And on that note,” he added, seeing the perfect opportunity to illustrate his concerns about his present situation, “what happened that night in Paris rather illustrates what I’m saying, doesn’t it?”

  “Why?” Jack asked, grinning. “Because it shows that you and Pongo are capable of behaving like a pair of horses’ asses?”

  Denys made a sound of impatience. “It proves that where Lola goes, anarchy follows.”

  “But why should any of that be true now?” Nick asked. “I still don’t quite see what’s so difficult.”

  “No?” Denys turned to Nick. “If our situation were reversed, how would you see it? More importantly, how would Belinda see it? You had quite a passion for Lola yourself once.”

  “That’s different. Belinda is my wife. You’re not married.”

  “I don’t see the problem, either,” James said. “Lola’s an intelligent woman, and she certainly knows her way around a stage. Henry ensured she’d have the blunt to stand her share of any financial losses, should you have a play that fails. As a partner in a theater company, she seems well suited.”

  Denys winced, remembering his assessment to Lola of her attributes as a partner had been somewhat less complimentary. “I suppose,” he muttered, “she does have a few things to offer.”

  “A fine concession,” James said. “I think she’d be smashing. Stuart?” he added, turning to the man beside him.

  “What I think, what any of us think, doesn’t matter,” the duke pointed out. “Denys is the one who has to work with her, and she did leave him for someone else.”

  Denys felt a hint of relief. “Finally,” he said, “someone begins to see my side. Thank you, Stuart.”

  “You’re welcome. But I have to say that your concerns do seem premature. Why not wait a bit and see how the arrangement works before you judge it?”

  Denys considered, trying to find a way to explain without revealing his own vulnerabilities. “It’s so damned awkward.”

  “Bound to be,” Stuart conceded. “But that’ll pass in time, I daresay.”

  “It’ll cause tremendous gossip.”

  “Which, since you’re a viscount and Lola’s not a lady, hardly affects your reputation—or hers, either, for that matter. At worst, people will assume you’ve taken up with her again.”

  Glad that someone had grasped at least that much of his difficulty, he nodded. “Just so.”

  “You’re thinking of your father,” James put in.

  “Of course I am. My father is a good man, and I’m fond of him. But I am also thinking of my mother, and Susan—all my family. When the scandal sheets find out about this, the whole business will be raked up and discussed ad nauseum. Speculation will run wild that Lola and I have rekindled our affair. We’ll be the talk of society.”

  “Only until people see there’s nothing to the gossip.”

  Denys thought of that damnable kiss in his office and resisted the impulse to shift guiltily in his chair. “Yes, well,” he mumbled, “until they do, it’ll be a painful and embarrassing situation for the entire family. It was difficult enough for them to endure it all the first time—”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Nick interrupted with a groan. “You made a fool of yourself over a woman. It’s happened to us all. When will you stop flogging yourself for not being the ever-perfect son?”

  “I know you don’t worry about things like that, Nick,” he shot back. “You gave up being Landsdowne’s perfect son before any of us were out of short pants.”

  Nick grinned, unperturbed. “You’ve met Landsdowne. Were he your father, would you give a damn what he thought?”

  Denys sighed. “I suppose not,” he conceded. “But I can’t make light of what this sort of talk would do to my family. I care about them. I care how they would feel, and I care what they think. And in any case, they are not the only ones to consider. There’s Georgiana as well.”

  The other four men stared at him, and their surprise led him to assume a nonchalant air. “We’ve been seeing a bit of each other this season. Well, I am thirty-two, you know,” he added, their silence impelling him to explain. “Time’s getting on. I have to start thinking of the future.”

  Jack gave a shout of laughter at that, and Denys turned to the man beside him with a frown. “Really, Jack, you seem to find my situation endlessly amusing.”

  “Well,” Jack began, but Denys cut him off.

  “We all hold aristocratic titles, and we know it’s our duty to marry, and marry well. Even you finally accepted that fact.”

  “I would not have done if Linnet hadn’t been the perfect wife for me.”

  Denys considered Georgiana—her grace and restraint, her charity work, her impeccable reputation and background, her fastidious nature, their fond childhood. “And Georgiana would be the perfect wife for me.”

  “Not perfect enough to impel you to actually propose, however.”

  He scowled in the face of that irrefutable point. “Just because I haven’t doesn’t mean I won’t. I am . . . considering it.”

  “It’s probably too late now. You’ve known Georgiana since she was born. If she has half the brains I think she has, she gave up any hopes about you ages ago. I would have.”

  He opened his mouth to fire off a smart reply about Jack’s brains, but Nick deprived him of the chance.

  “Surely, Georgiana and your family will all understand this arrangement with Lola is a business partnership, one forced upon you. Your private relationship with Lola is history, you’ve assured your family on that point, and once you’ve explained it all to Geo
rgiana, there should be no cause for worry.”

  “In theory that seems so reasonable.” Denys took another swallow of port. “The reality, I daresay, will be much less so.”

  “Why?” Nick countered. “Don’t they trust you?”

  “Of course they trust me. It’s just that—” He stopped, the brutal truth hitting him square in the chest.

  I don’t trust myself.

  That admission, silently made, was galling beyond belief, and when he glanced around the table, the faces of his friends told him he might just as well have said it out loud.

  “For God’s sake,” he muttered, “let’s forget the whole bloody business. I don’t know why I ever thought any of you could offer suggestions that might help.”

  “It’s not our job to help,” Jack told him with cheer, giving him a hearty slap on the back. “We’re your friends. Our job is to tease you mercilessly about your foibles, rag you about your upright, honorable nature, and point out to you when you’re being a complete dolt.”

  “Thank you, Jack.” He took a swallow of port. “I feel so much better about it all now.”

  Stuart spoke before Jack could reply. “If it’s suggestions you want, I have one.” He paused, leaning forward in his chair. “Stop kicking against the pricks.”

  Denys stiffened. “Accept the inevitable, you mean. That’s an easy thing to say. Not so easy to do.”

  “Only if you’re not over her.”

  That was the heart of the matter. Over the years, he’d convinced himself he was over Lola, but that kiss had dispelled any such illusion. He wasn’t over her, not completely, and he didn’t know if he ever would be.

  There was only one way to find out.

  And suddenly Denys knew what he had to do. Time and distance hadn’t rid him of his desire for Lola, so taking such pains to avoid her wasn’t going to accomplish a thing. Working with her was the only way to demonstrate his resolve, reaffirm his choices, and prove to himself that her reappearance didn’t make any difference to his life at all.

  It wouldn’t be easy. As things stood now, he had to draw on all the fortitude he possessed just to be in the same room with her without wanting to ravish her or wring her neck. But with time and sufficient strength of will, surely he could get past that. Perhaps this situation would accomplish what years of time and distance had not, and he would become immune to her charms once and for all.

  “You’re right, Stuart. I didn’t choose this partnership, God knows, but I suppose I’ve no choice but to accept it.” He straightened in his chair. “After all, when a man’s caught in a hurricane, it’s better to be a reed than an oak.”

  “A sound principle,” Jack approved, raising his glass, “and an apt analogy, for Lola Valentine is one hell of a hurricane.”

  Denys couldn’t argue the point. Reed or oak, he knew he’d be facing some torrential headwinds in the days to come. He just hoped he could weather the storm without been wrecked all over again.

  Lola thought Denys would keep avoiding a meeting with her, all the way to January if he could. But four days following her call at his office, she received a note from his secretary, granting her request and inquiring if five o’clock one week hence at his lordship’s offices would be acceptable.

  Such unexpected capitulation on Denys’s part was quite a surprise, but though it gave her little time to prepare, her resolve to prove herself remained unaltered.

  She had called on Mr. Lloyd Jamison as she’d intended, and whether it was due to her success in New York working with Henry, her role in Lord Somerton’s latest play, or her new position as the viscount’s partner, the theatrical agent happily accepted her as a client, despite her refusal to consider any role that involved kicking up her legs or singing bawdy songs.

  For her part, she had found Mr. Jamison to be an engaging and likable man, and though she had little desire to employ an agent, she agreed to allow him to represent her acting interests. She also took the opportunity to make use of his extensive knowledge of London theater.

  Thanks to that interview and the reports sent by Denys’s office, as well as what she learned about balance sheets and income statements from an accounting clerk she hired, Lola had a much stronger understanding of the financial workings of theater in general and the Imperial in particular than she’d had before. But two nights before her meeting with Denys, she still hadn’t come up with a single idea to increase the Imperial’s profits.

  She had never lacked for ideas. She’d built an entire show around them. She knew she could do some innovative things with Shakespeare if given a chance, but though she trusted her creative instincts, she couldn’t expect Denys to do so. He would never agree to setting Two Gentlemen of Verona in the American West or allowing Kate to be in on the joke when Petruchio made his famous wager, unless she could convince him her business acumen was as sound as her creativity.

  Lola set down the theater’s latest financial report and leaned back, resting her weight on her arms and staring at the documents spread all around her on the floor of her suite, frustrated. She’d hoped to find some weakness in the Imperial’s current operations that she could exploit, but there didn’t seem to be one.

  No, when it came to weaknesses, the only one she could see was her own. When Denys had hauled off and kissed her, she’d surrendered in mortifying fashion, and every time she recalled those passionate moments in his office, her body began to burn, but not with the indignation a woman ought to feel in such circumstances. No, when she recalled Denys’s mouth on hers and his arms around her, she felt the unmistakable burn of desire.

  She tilted her head back, closing her eyes, memories coming over her in a flood—memories of other hot kisses they’d shared, kisses long ago, in that brief, blissful window of time when she’d allowed herself to fall in love with him, when she’d opened her heart and surrendered her body and chosen to believe in fairy tales.

  Lola sat up, shoving aside the past, reminding herself that this was real life. Denys had not only kissed her, he’d used that kiss as proof they couldn’t work together, and he’d ripped her abilities to shreds. If she didn’t challenge his contentions and disprove them, if she couldn’t make him start to see her as an equal and a colleague instead of as his former mistress, then he’d be proved right, and the partnership would be doomed.

  Lola frowned at the documents spread around her, thinking hard. The Imperial made a hefty profit. It was well regarded and efficiently run. As things stood, there just didn’t seem much room for improvement in theater operations. Anything with the potential to increase profits would have to involve some sort of radical change.

  Radical change.

  Something flickered within her, something forged by the documents before her, her interview with Jamison, and a chance remark made by Kitty during their supper. Suddenly alert, she worked to form this vague glimmer into an idea, and when she succeeded, she felt a jolt of jubilation and hope.

  She rummaged through the stacks, pulling out various reports, then she spread the selected sheets in front of her to study them. A few minutes’ perusal confirmed that her idea could not only work, but it could also make the Imperial significantly more profitable. There was only one problem.

  Denys would never agree. He’d never been one for radical change.

  That irrefutable fact deflated her, but only for a moment. Her purpose was to prove she could hold her own as a partner, and this idea, properly presented, would accomplish that. He didn’t have to agree to implement it, but it would force him to admit he’d been wrong about her ability to come up with business ideas. Lola allowed herself a moment to savor the sweetness of that possibility, then she picked up her pencil and reached for a blank sheet of paper. She still had a lot of work to do.

  Chapter 11

  Two days later, thanks to another session with the accounting clerk and the hiring of a typist at Houghton’s Secretarial Service, Lola came to her meeting with Denys loaded for bear. She had a fully-fleshed-out business plan in he
r portfolio, and she felt confident, prepared, and ready to defend her idea and fight for her rights. She wasn’t even nervous.

  Until she saw him.

  He wasn’t behind his desk when she entered his office. Instead, he was seated on the horsehair settee at the opposite end of the room having tea, and as he set aside his cup and rose to greet her, she noted in surprise that he was in his shirtsleeves, his jacket off and his cuffs rolled back. This casual state of dress made him seem less like the ruthless man of business she’d come to expect and much more like the Denys she used to know. Caught off guard, she came to an abrupt halt just inside the door, her hand tightening around the handle of her leather portfolio.

  “Good afternoon,” he said, and glanced past her. “Thank you, Dawson. You may go.”

  The secretary departed, and Lola felt an absurd jolt of nervousness when she heard the door click shut behind her.

  Denys gestured to the tray beside him. “Would you care for tea?”

  She’d come for a battle. She hadn’t expected tea. Lola took a deep breath and started forward, but with each step, her uneasiness increased, and she stopped again, still several feet away.

  Denys tilted his head, giving her a quizzical look. “Is something wrong?”

  “Tea, Denys?”

  “Well, we are in England, Lola. Tea’s not particularly extraordinary.”

  “No, but it’s . . .” She paused, considering. “Unexpected.”

  “I daresay.” He gestured to the settee behind him. “Shall we sit down?”

  She glanced at the comfortable leather furnishings and the tea tray laden with sandwiches and cakes, and a poem she’d learned in childhood flashed through her mind. “ ‘Will you walk into my parlor?’ ” she quoted wryly, returning her gaze to his face as she started forward again. “Is that it?”

  He smiled a little. “You did ask to walk into this particular parlor,” he reminded. “But you needn’t worry. I don’t bite.”

  “No? You could have fooled me.” Lola made a rueful face as she sat down on the settee and placed her portfolio by her feet. “You’ve been baring your teeth at me ever since I got to town.”