No Mistress of Mine

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 like 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 the 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?”

“Thank you, Dawson. I will take care of it.”

The secretary gave a nod and departed, once again closing the door behind him.

“I can’t imagine what I left out,” Lola said, circling his desk and pausing beside him to study the sheet of paper in his hand. “I thought I’d been most thorough in my application.”

He pointed to the appropriate place on the form, and as she leaned closer, he instinctively turned his head, inhaling the luscious scent that clung to her hair. But that was too much provocation for his already heated body, and he jerked his head back again at once, hastening into speech. “You did not give the name and address of your agent in London.”

“Oh, that.” She straightened, but the infinitesimal amount of distance the move put between them wasn’t nearly enough to contain the traitorous feelings in his body. He had to get her out of here.

“Perhaps,” he said, feeling a bit desperate, “you could give Dawson that information on your way out?”

She waved one hand in the air, dismissing that suggestion. “It’s not necessary.”

“But it is. To draw up your contract, our solicitors require that your agent be specified in the terms.”

“And if an actor doesn’t have an agent? What then?”

“You don’t have an agent?” He stared at her askance. “Why on earth not?”

“Henry handled all of that for me. Since he died, I haven’t looked . . .” She paused and her mouth tightened at the corners. “I don’t see the need for an agent now. That’s all.”

This reminder of Henry was sufficient to keep the traitorous sensations in his body from wholly overtaking him. “Lola, this won’t do. You need an agent.”

“Why?” Unexpectedly, she smiled at him. “Do you intend to take advantage of me, Denys?”

The room was far too warm, and he felt an almost irrepressible desire to loosen his tie. He suppressed it. “Don’t flirt with me,” he reproved in as cool a voice as he could muster. “It’s a deflection, Lola, one you use whenever you don’t like the direction of a conversation. What I don’t understand is the reason you’re prevaricating.”

Caught out, she gave a sigh, but she didn’t explain.

“Is Henry the reason for this aversion to having an agent? Do you . . .” He paused, but after a moment, he forced himself to go on. “I’m sure you miss him, but you’re not doing yourself or his memory any good by procrastinating about finding someone else to represent your interests.”

“I’m not procrastinating,” she protested. “In my current situation, I just don’t see the need for an agent. Someone who’ll charge me an outrageous percentage to arrange a contract between me and my own partner? Seems quite silly to me.”

“Just because I’m giving you a fair situation, it doesn’t mean others will. You need an agent. To find you work, to negotiate your contracts—”

“I already have work. As to negotiating my contract, I think you and I can muddle along without bringing a third party into it.”

“You’re far too trusting.”

“I’m not trusting at all, but I know you, and I know how scrupulously honest you are. You could no more cheat me than you could betray your country.”

He found this evidence of how well she understood his character rather galling. “And what if you don’t retain your place in the company next season?”

“I’ll worry about that when it happens.”

“What if you wish to obtain work elsewhere?”

“A competitor?” Her scoff made short shrift of that possibility. “As I said, I want to work with my partner in my company, not somewhere else. Besides,” she added with a smile, “I intend to see that we only hire those directors who appreciate my brilliant dramatic skills.”

His opinion about that must have shown on his face, for her smile faded, and she sighed. “That was a joke, Denys.”

He didn’t feel like laughing. “If Othello proves a flop,” he went on doggedly, “you may wish to pursue a place with some other company—”

“It isn’t going to flop.” Her eyes opened wide. “With Arabella Danvers, London’s most famous and popular Shakespearean actress, in a leading role, how could it ever be a flop?”

Despite everything, that almost made him smile. Impudent minx, he thought, to toss his rationale for hiring Arabella back in his face. “Mrs. Danvers’s involvement, as valuable as it is, is no guarantee of success. You know as well as I do there’s no predicting how these things will go.”

“We can safely make one prediction, at least,” she said, flashing him a grin. “On opening night, they’ll be packed to the rafters just to see if Lola Valentine proves as spectacular a failure this time as she was last time.”

He caught the pain behind those words. “Which is why it’s best if you find an agent now,” he pointed out even as he wondered why he should care.

“To hedge my bets, you mean?” She sobered, looking at him. “I’ll do my best not to let you down a second time.”

“That’s not what I meant. I only meant that a failed play could color your entire season, making it harder for you to find work next year if you do go elsewhere. An agent would make the process easier.”

“I doubt it.” She wrinkled up her nose with a rueful smile. “You’ve obviously forgotten I had an agent during A Doll’s House. When the play closed, he was no help whatsoever. He suggested I consider abandoning acting altogether. He said it didn’t really matter, anyway, since I already had another, much more lucrative career.”

“Dancing?”

“No.” Her smile faltered as her gaze locked with his. “You.”

Denys sucked in his breath, feeling that reminder of their former relationship like a knife between his ribs. He yanked open the left-hand drawer of his desk, shuffled through the cards docketed there, and pulled out three. “Here,” he said, holding them out to her.

“What are these?” she asked as she took them, but after one glance at the card on top, she shook her head. “Denys, I told you—”

“I don’t care what you told me. These men are well-regarded agents, tenacious at negotiation, and scrupulously ethical. Jamison might suit you best since he represents the widest variety of clients, but none of these men will try to shove you into musical revue or dance if those aren’t what you want. They’ll fight for you, they won’t cheat you or abandon you, and they certainly won’t make unsavory insinuations about your private life. Go interview them and pick one. Or find one on your own. Either way,” he added, hoping he would at last be able to bring this meeting to an end, “I won’t sign contracts with you until you have an agent.”

She bristled at that. “You’re being very autocratic about my career.”

“If you don’t like it, you are free to find work elsewhere.” It was his turn to smile. “The Gaiety would probably hire you.”

Her displeasure seemed to vanish as quickly as it had come, and even before she smiled again, he knew she was changing tactics. When she spoke, her words came as no great surprise.

“Let’s compromise. That’s what partners do together, isn’t it?”

He thought again of afternoons in bed with her, but this time, he managed to keep his gaze on her face. “What sort of compromise did you have in mind?”

She held up the cards. “I’ll find an agent if you’ll agree to a partners’ meeting.”

He gave a laugh. She was so outrageous, he couldn’t help it, even now, with erotic images in his mind and desire seething in his body. “So to get something you want, you’re offering to do something that benefits you?”

She bit her lip, looking at him over the cards in mock apology. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.”

“And if I agree to this, what’s in it for me?”

“What do you want?”

That provocative question was like a gust of wind on burning coals. His amusement vanished, and his arousal flared into outright lust, providing irrefutable proof—as if he needed any—that being partners with Lola was an impossible undertaking.

“Nothing,” he answered, hating that even now, even after everything that had happened, he could still be aroused by her against his will. “There is nothing I want from you except for you to stay out of my way.”

“And I can’t accept that. So the only alternative is tear the Imperial apart. Is that what you want?”

He hated that it came to that sort of Hobson’s choice. Hated that he was trapped in something from which the only escape route was annihilation. “If it would rid me of you,” he answered, “then yes.”

“If that were true, you’d never have agreed to let me audition for a part in the first place. You’d have shown me the door and told me to sue you in the courts.”

“A choice I’m questioning more and more with each moment you stand here,” he muttered, glaring at her. “Business partners don’t have to like each other, but they do have to trust each other, and my trust is something I will never give you again.”

She flinched, but she didn’t move to leave. “Never is a long time, Denys, and I intend to earn your trust. And I know you’re seething with resentment, which is understandable, but that’s a hard thing to keep up, day after day, year after year.”

The mention of years was a reminder of just how trapped he was. “Be damned to you. What you’re suggesting is impossible.”

“I don’t see why.”

“Don’t you?” Provoked beyond bearing and frustrated as hell by a desire that still seemed unconquerable, he wrapped an arm around her waist. The application form fluttered to the floor as he pulled her hard against him.

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

“You want to know why this won’t work, Lola?” Desire thrumming through his body, he cupped her cheek, his thumb pressing beneath her jaw to tilt her head back. Her skin was as soft as he remembered, the fragrance of her hair as intoxicating as ever, and even as he told himself he was making a fatal mistake, Denys bent his head. “This is why,” he said, and kissed her.