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?”