Page 40 of The Muse of Maiden Lane

“Sledding was enjoyable, I trust?” Teddy inquired absently as he came to a halt by the library’s terrestrial globe. Cradled in a blackened mahogany stand, it was set in an alcove, far enough away from the fireplace to ensure a modicum of privacy.

“It was great fun,” Hartford said. “Though most of us were woefully out of practice. We spent more time headfirst in the snow than flying over it in our sleds.”

Teddy managed a smile. He used to go sledding with Laura when he was a boy. He used to do a lot of things. “I can imagine.”

“I was speaking to Mr. Archer before we set out,” Hartford said. “The subject of your chair came up.”

Teddy stilled. He fixed Hartford with the whole of his attention. “Oh?”

“Something about the inhospitableness of the outdoor terrain—and the indoor terrain. He said it was one of the reasons you haven’t joined us for any of our excursions out of doors.”

“He was making excuses for me,” Teddy said. “He needn’t have done. I already told Lord March that I would be working through most of my stay.”

“Yes, quite. Nevertheless…” Reaching into the inner pocket of his coat, Hartford withdrew a folded sheet of paper. “It’s what put the idea into my head.”

Teddy’s brows lifted. It took an effort to remain polite. He didn’t like people talking about his disability behind his back. Not even his family members, and not even to help him. “What idea?”

Hartford lowered his voice. “It’s not widely known, and I’d prefer to keep it that way, but I invest in the odd patent. New technologies mostly, with a practical bent.” He paused before elaborating. “A reengineered independent feed pump for a locomotive engine. An improved wringing-and-mangling machine for doing the washing. Even a patent for a steam-powered horseless road vehicle.”

“Fascinating,” Teddy said stiffly. “What has any of that to do with me?” Or with my chair, he nearly added.

Hartford handed him the folded paper. “This came across my desk several months ago. Or rather, something very like this. I’ve attempted to draw it from memory. Forgive me. Unlike you, I’m no artist.”

Teddy took the paper from him. He stared down at the image.

“It’s a wheeled chair,” Hartford explained. “One not unlike your own, but possessing a distinct advantage. The wheels of this chair are made of iron, not wood, and they’re covered in a hollow tube of vulcanized India rubber that’s filled with pressurized air.”

Teddy glanced up sharply from the drawing. “Air?”

“Odd, I know. But the purported benefits are significant.”

“What benefits?”

“A more comfortable ride, greater speed with less effort, and easier movement over troublesome surfaces. Apparently, the rubber doesn’t sink into loose gravel or soft ground as readily as traditional wheels.”

Teddy couldn’t help but be intrigued by the possibilities. “Is that true?”

“I believe so. These wheels were inspired by an aerial carriage wheel patented some years ago. There was a demonstration of it in Regent’s Park when I was a lad. A promising invention, but it never caught on. The rubber wheels were too expensive for the average carriage owner to purchase and maintain, not to mention the cost of manufacturing them. But this inventor has adapted them to a smaller scale. I imagine he hopes his idea will appeal to wealthy invalids in search of greater mobility.”

Teddy’s interest piqued. He wasn’t wealthy by any means, but neither was he poor. The income he drew from the perfumery was a comfortable one, certainly enough to stretch to purchasing a patented wheeled chair. “Have you invested in it?” he asked.

“No. Not yet. I dismissed it, initially. It seemed too niche an invention. One ill-suited to the masses. The cost of production is exorbitant—and the proposed price even higher. Still, given the possibilities, I begin to think I was too hasty.” Hartford leaned down, examining the drawing along with Teddy. “Is it something you could use?”

“Very possibly, yes.”

“Would you be game to try a prototype?”

“I would.” Teddy gave a short laugh. “Hell, if it does everything it claims to, I’d buy one myself.”

Hartford smiled broadly. “That’s all I wanted to know.” He straightened. “The inventor chap is in London. He’s seeking an initial investment of capital to build his first half dozen chairs. I expect, with enough funds at his disposal, he’ll have them ready by the spring. Will you be in town?”

Teddy nodded. “I’m staying in Half Moon Street until the end of March. After that…I have no fixed address.”

“But you’ll still be in London?”

“I will,” Teddy said categorically.

“Splendid. I’ll see that you get the first prototype. Your opinions will be invaluable.” Hartford took a breath. “Can I assist you with anything before I go? Fetch you a book or a—”