Page 1 of A Contracted Spouse for the Prizefighter

ONE

No sooner had Theodora shut the door to their dressing room behind them than she turned excitedly to her sister. “Who are they? Did you see them? You must have, for it was the only full box in the house.”

Henrietta cast aside her shepherdess crook and bouquet of roses. “Heaven only knows,” she answered wearily. “I am just glad that Matthew was not here to see the scant respect they showed our craft. They talked all the way through the second act. Help me out of this, will you?” She turned her back pointedly.

Hurrying to her sister’s side, Theo started unlacing Hetty out of her elaborate shepherdess costume. “One of them was smoking,” she rambled on, unabated. “Did you notice? Yet no one sent Vincent up to sort them out,” she said naming their formidable doorman. “They must be backers or sponsors or something of that nature or Felix would surely have had them thrown out on their ear.”

Her sister scoffed. “More than likely Felix did not send Vincent up for fear of starting a brawl,” she said dryly. “They were not respectable folk, for all they are dressed up in their Sunday best. A couple of them had broken noses to rival Vincent’s own.”

Theo was just reflecting this was likely true, for there had been a disreputable air about the group, though they clearly had money in their pockets. A certain brashness you could not mistake. A knock on the door interrupted her ruminations. “It’s Lil,” she said recognizing the pattern and flinging open the door before Henrietta could object. For some reason, her sister did not approve of the older actress of late, whereas Theo adored her.

“Did you see them? In the grand circle?” Lil demanded as she shut the door behind her. Off stage the powder and paint she loaded onto her face made her look every minute of her fifty or so years. Under the stage lights, however, she could still pass for considerably younger, maybe thirty on a good day.

“We did,” Theo confirmed as Henrietta whisked away tight-lipped to the back of the room. “Do you know who they are, Lil?”

“Lord love you, course I do! That’s what I’ve come to tell you.” Lil glanced around as though checking for eavesdroppers, despite the fact the sisters had never had their own personal dresser.

Theo started untying the blue silk sash at her waist.

“Don’t undress yet, ducky,” Lil said, staying her hand. “Your brother’s about to send for you if I’m not mistaken.”

“Really? But Hetty has already started changing—”

“I am not meeting anyone off stage rigged out in this hideous costume,” her sister cut in smoothly. “I don’t care if it’s the Prince of Wales himself.”

Lil snorted. “No such luck. Bet your brother would love to stick a ‘royal’ in front of the theatre’s name.”

“Not just Felix,” Thora admitted. “I would love that too. Hetty and I own shares as much as Felix. Just imagine, The Royal Parthenon.” She glanced across at her sister. “It has a ring to it, you will admit.”

Henrietta shrugged a pale shoulder as she stepped out of her hooped skirts. Not for the first time, Theo reflected that her sister showed but a scant interest in the family business these days. Her head seemed filled only with thoughts of the honorable Matthew Hillingdon, her current admirer. Theo frowned. In her estimation, her sister could surely prioritize both suitor and the theatre at the same time. One was her livelihood after all.

“Have you ever heard of The Eagle and Sun concert rooms in Shoreditch?” Lil continued, leaning a hip against their dressing table.

“Shoreditch?” Hetty repeated with a curl of her lip. “Certainly not.”

Lil sniffed. “They perform to a packed house from Thursday to Sunday, two shows a day, matinee and evening performance.”

“A full house? At each performance?” Theo asked, startled. They had not had such a thing at The Parthenon in years.

“S’right,” Lil affirmed with a nod of her head. “I know someone what knows someone who’s on his books. Says he runs a neat operation and no mistake. Started out eighteen months ago with a supper and song outfit. Nine months later he had his own premises. Now he’s looking for a theatre.”

A knock on the door interrupted them, just as Theo fastened the last of her sister’s pearl buttons. Vincent’s rather large, broad face poked around the door. “Miss Henrietta, Miss Theodora, your bruvver wants to see yer both in the auditorium,” he growled, his eyes flying to Henrietta first as they always did, before lowering respectfully.

“What about me, Vinnie love?” Lil piped up.

“He never mentioned you, Lil.”

Lil’s shoulders drooped a moment before she squared them bravely. “I reckon I’ll come along and all,” she announced and the four of them duly trooped out of the dressing room and along the winding corridors until they came out into the auditorium.

Theo glanced about with her usual pride at the sumptuous décor of The Parthenon’s pillars, frescoes, and fancy moldings. In the subdued gaslight you could not see that the velvet curtains were looking worn, and the gilt paint needed more than just a touch up.

Theo’s heart swelled as it always did. Peg Woffington, the famous Irish actress, had appeared on stage, on this very site. True, it had been an earlier incarnation of the theatre they stood in today, one that had burned down in the eighteenth century, but all the same, such facts added to The Parthenon’s rich history.

“Ah, here they are,” she heard her brother comment before he threw a quick frown her way. She glanced down at her silk breeches and frilly shirt. Sometimes Felix could be surprisingly stuffy. “Mr. Dabney, allow me to introduce you to my sisters Henrietta and Theodora Fields,” he said, ignoring Lil’s presence altogether. Theo looked over the large male stood next to her brother with interest. He was not looking at her, of course, but at Henrietta.

Theo did not resent this. Henrietta was so very lovely that people were usually much struck on their first meeting with her and often second and third. Instead of resenting his keen appreciation of her sister’s looks, Theo took the opportunity to size Dabney up.

His suit must have been custom made for him, she decided, for his shoulders and chest were far broader than the average gentleman and he was tall too, at least six foot two, and towered above Felix and almost everyone else milling about.