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 Georgiana, 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.