He didn’t seem at all surprised by that announcement, and she didn’t know if that was because he and Jacob had overheard her entire conversation with Arabella a moment ago or because he was already fully aware of the gossip. “My question is, should a formal announcement be made?” He glanced from Jacob to her and back again. “I’d like opinions from both of you.”
Before either of them could reply, however, a door banged in the distance, and footsteps sounded in the corridor. “That must be Dawson,” Denys explained. “I asked him to fetch some sandwiches before I came over. Given the lateness of the hour, I deemed it unfair to detain the two of you without at least providing some sustenance. Good evening, Dawson,” he added, looking toward the doorway as the secretary came in with a large basket in his hands. “That didn’t take long.”
Dawson nodded to Lola as he circled the table to Denys’s side, but he didn’t give her his usual smile of greeting. “MissValentine,” he said, and looked away again at once.
His reticence didn’t surprise her. When they had parted company after the opera the other night, they had agreed it would be best if they did not fraternize, as Denys had put it, in the future.
“Rosetti’s only had ham and tongue sandwiches remaining, sir. No chicken or watercress. Understandable, since it is quite late. Will there be anything else?”
“You might be sure all the gaslights are turned off in the theater, then you may go. Leave one burning by the door on your way out. I’ll extinguish it when we leave.”
“Very good, my lord.” The secretary departed, and Denys opened the basket. “So,” he resumed as he pulled out two paper-wrapped sandwiches and handed one to Lola, “should the company be told formally of MissValentine’s position? Jacob?” he added, holding out the sandwich in his other hand to the director.
Jacob waved it aside, shaking his head. “Thank you, my lord, but I am dining shortly with friends,” he explained. “As to your question, it might be best to let sleeping dogs lie. If MissValentine is to be merely a silent partner—”
“MissValentine has no intention of maintaining such a limited role, Jacob,” Denys said, and there was an unmistakably wry note in his voice. “On the contrary, she intends to be involved in every aspect of running the theater.”
The director’s heavy dark brows rose, then fell. “Ah,” he murmured, and there was a wealth of implication in the word and in the meaningful glance exchanged between the two men. Clearly, that afternoon at the Savoy, both of them had thought she’d be long gone by now—or at least shunted off to the side—and Lola couldn’t help feeling a bit of satisfaction that she’d upset that particular applecart.
“What are your thoughts, MissValentine?” Denys asked, turning to her. “Should we announce your position to the company or not?”
“Since they already seem to know,” she countered, “why bother with a formal announcement?”
“It might diffuse further speculations.”
“Or make them worse,” Jacob put in. “I must confess, I have been concerned about the possibility of gossip ever since Lord Somerton informed me of the situation. A formal announcement could underscore and perhaps inflame an already awkward situation.”
“The awkwardness will probably be temporary,” Denys pointed out. “After all, ours is not a situation wholly without precedent. Henry Irving manages the Lyceum, for example, and acts in many of his own productions.”
“Henry Irving does, yes,” Jacob said, and as if fearing she might take offense, he turned to her. “I don’t doubt your abilities as a performer, MissValentine,” Jacob said at once. “If I had, I’d never have cast you in my play. But don’t be surprised if there is a perception among your peers that you are being favored for roles because you are an owner. And because—”
He broke off, but his glance at Denys told her what he had not said, and suddenly, her prior relationship with Denys seemed like a giant elephant in the room.
Jacob sensed it, too, for he gave a cough. “My point,” he hastened on, “is that MissValentine needs to be prepared for some hostility.”
“I understand that, Mr.Roth,” she said, “but I came into this knowing full well what I was getting into. The news of Henry’s bequest to me was already beginning to circulate in New York when I left, and it was bound to arrive here sooner or later. Even if I were not intending to be actively involved, we could never have hoped to keep this partnership a secret for long. I realize that I will be the subject of much gossip and speculation, but other than performing to the very best of my ability, there’s little I can do about it. I can only hope...” She paused and swallowed hard. “I can only hope my performances prove worthy enough that people will come to see there’s more to me than my position or my past.”
“Either way,” Denys put in, “neither of you seem to feel a formal announcement is necessary?” When both of them shook their heads, he nodded in acquiescence. “Very well then, we will leave the situation as it stands.”
“If that is all, my lord,” Jacob said, shoving back his chair and standing up, “I shall be on my way.”
“Yes, that is all. Thank you, Jacob.”
The other man departed, and with his departure, the situation suddenly seemed far too intimate for her peace of mind. “I should be going as well,” she said, but Denys’s voice stopped her before she could stand up.
“At least stay and have your dinner. After all,” he added, gesturing to the basket, “I can’t possibly eat all this by myself.”
Lola hesitated. Lingering here, having dinner with him would give Denys ample opportunity to probe further into her past. She’d left her real name behind her over ten years ago, along with that dingy saloon in Brooklyn, and the last thing she wanted to do was talk about it, especially with him. “Given the possibility of gossip,” she began, but he interrupted her excuse.
“It’s a bit late to stop that, as we’ve just been discussing. And as partners, we will have to talk about the Imperial from time to time, whether in front of others, or alone. We can’t do business together and simultaneously avoid each other.”
That made her smile a little. “This is quite a turnabout from two weeks ago. Now you’re the one wanting to cope with our situation.”
“And you want to avoid it. Why?” he asked before she could reply. “Because you don’t want to tell me your real name?”
“That just slipped out,” she mumbled. “I never intended to tell you anything about it.”
“An admission that hardly helps you in your quest to regain my trust,” he countered dryly.
