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, Miss Valentine?” 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, Miss Valentine,” 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 Miss Valentine 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.
She was hardly in a position to argue it. “What if we discuss my proposal instead?” she countered lightly. It was clear she hoped to evade any inconvenient questions by changing the subject, but he had no intention of letting her do so.
He studied her for a moment, considering his options. A gentleman should not probe into a woman’s private affairs, especially when she so clearly did not want to discuss them. On the other hand, after her rather shattering announcement at Covent Garden, she could hardly expect him to leave it there. He’d been trying to do that for three days, without success, and when he’d looked out the window earlier this evening and seen the lights still on over here, he’d seized the opportunity to find out more without a moment of hesitation. “Before we discuss your proposal,” he said at last, “something else needs to be done first.”
“What is that?”
“We have to introduce ourselves. After all, we can’t dine together if we don’t know each other, can we? The more you evade this,” he added, smiling as she made a sound of exasperation, “the more curious you make me.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she muttered, “I don’t see why it matters. There aren’t any legal considerations, if that’s what’s worrying you. I had my name changed by deed poll over ten years ago.”
He didn’t reply. He merely reached into the basket and pulled out her business proposal, which he’d instructed Dawson bring over with the sandwiches. He held it up, giving her an inquiring look across the table.
She scowled back at him, and for a moment, he thought she was going to refuse to answer, but after a moment, she surprised him. “Charlotte,” she said with a sigh. “My name is—was—Charlotte Valinsky.”
Lola, of course, was a shortening of Charlotte, and the first syllable of her surname echoed that of her stage name, but any similarities ended there. The impressions conveyed by the two names were as different as chalk and cheese.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Valinsky,” he said, and bowed to her across the table. “Viscount Somerton, at your service.”
That made her smile a little. “I’m not sure it’s done this way,” she murmured as she began unwrapping her sandwich. “Isn’t someone else always required to make a social introduction?”
“In this case, I think we can bend the rules a little.”
“To what end?”
“To give ourselves a fresh start.”
“A fresh start,” she murmured, and her smile faltered. “I seem to need a great many of those.”
“Two’s not that many, Lola.”
“I’ve had more than two, I’m afraid.” She didn’t elaborate. Instead, she gestured to the basket. “Is there something to drink with these sandwiches? I’m thirsty.”
Another diversion, he noted. “So, Miss Valinsky,” he said as he opened the basket and pulled out a bottle of beer, “now that we’ve introduced ourselves, why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”
She licked her lips, looking a bit desperate. “Why do you want to know things about me? I don’t see why it matters now.”
“It always mattered, at least to me.” Holding the bottle in one hand, he rummaged in the basket for a corkscrew. “But after our conversation the other night, I’ve come to appreciate that you were right. In many ways, I don’t really know you. And when I think back to our time together, I realize that though you were always very good about listening to me talk about my life, my family, my friends, you somehow always managed to avoid telling me anything about yourself. You shared almost nothing with me about what your life was like before we met.”