Page 17 of The Muse of Maiden Lane

Teddy had spent the better part of two years at Atelier Gleyre. It had been a large studio, with more than thirty aspiring painters in attendance at any given time. Teddy had worked diligently alongside them. Had shared both his triumphs and disappointments. It had been his first experience with artists of greater skill. A humbling episode in his life, but a necessary one. His own skill had been challenged. Refined. Perfected.

“I’m done with Paris,” he said.

Alex gave a humorless laugh. “What artist in his right mind can ever be done with Paris?”

“This one is. I’m ready to live in England again. It’s time I came home.” Finding a small box of oil pastels in the trunk, Teddy tossed it onto the pile. He doubted he would require it, but it never hurt to have alternatives to hand. The sketch he produced today would form the basis for his painting tomorrow. He intended to get it right.

“What about your sister?” Alex asked with deceptive calm.

Teddy’s shoulders tensed. He recognized his brother-in-law’s tone. Alex was generally a reasonable fellow, but when his wife’s tender feelings were at stake, he could be as ruthlessly protective as a feral wolf.

It didn’t prevent Teddy from answering with his usual frankness. “Laura may live where she likes.”

“We have no intention of removing from France. I can’t imagine we will, not in the near future. Not when the perfumery is doing so well.”

“I’m not asking you to come with me,” Teddy said.

Alex’s gaze bore into him. “What do you intend? To live alone somewhere? Without family close enough to come to your aid should something happen to you?”

“I lived alone in Paris.”

“And we kept an apartment nearby.”

Teddy’s jaw set. He didn’t like to be reminded. “Not for the whole of the duration. You returned to Grasse in the end.”

“We were still in France. A rail journey would have brought us to you.”

“A lengthy rail journey.”

“That’s beside the point,” Alex said. “Were you to remain in England, it would take us twice as long to get to you. Not to mention you’d be divided from us, not only by land, but by the entire width of the English Channel.”

“Which takes only a few hours to cross by steamer ship.” Teddy wheeled closer to the bed. He gathered his supplies into a neat pile. The orderly action helped to calm the surge of indignation that threatened to ignite his temper. By God, he wasn’t a child! He was a man of four-and-twenty. He shouldn’t have to argue for his freedom like a barrister in a court of law.

“You make it sound as though you and Laura never leave France,” he said, “when, in fact, you’ve visited England every year since your marriage.”

“Every year?” Alex repeated in exasperation. “We married but two years ago, Teddy. At the beginning of which, must I remind you, your health was something of a concern.”

Teddy dismissed his brother-in-law’s words. “I was thin, that was all.”

“You’d all but wasted away up in your room. Your sister feared—”

Teddy sharply wheeled around in his chair. The muscles in his arms and back bunched hard with the effort. He’d spent a long while in building them. Hours each day expended in performing push-ups and pull-ups to strengthen his upper body, and stretching exercises to work the paralyzed muscles in his legs.

“Must you bring up all this ancient history?” he demanded. “I’m better, that’s all that matters.”

“Yes, you are. But—”

“Besides, most of that was melancholy. I have a purpose now—one you’ve so far encouraged. So long as that purpose remains, my health will continue to improve.”

Alex’s mouth set in a doubtful line. It was he who had first suggested that Teddy find an art teacher in France—one who could instruct him in the new styles that were emerging. Before then, Teddy had to content himself with his own imagination. He’d spent most of the time in his bedroom in Surrey, laid low by his illness, drawing the birds he spied through the window. Alex had prompted him to go out. To visit the seaside. To paint the tumultuous waves at Margate like Teddy’s idol, the late artist William Turner, had.

That Alex was trying to constrain Teddy now rankled him in no small measure. But it was for Laura’s sake. Teddy understood that. And he would no more hurt his sister than Alex would.

“You needn’t mention it to Laura,” Teddy said. “Not yet. I’ll talk to her in my own time.”

“When?”

“When we return from visiting Thornhill and Lady Helena.”