Page 81 of The Muse of Maiden Lane

“In the form of my friend Mrs. Blunt. She and her husband, Captain Blunt, came to Fostonbury to fetch me. It was on their way from Yorkshire, so not too much of an imposition, I endeavor to hope.”

“Mrs. Blunt is one of the Four Horsewomen, I take it.”

Stella nodded, another smile springing to her lips. “I’m staying with her and her husband at Brown’s Hotel until the end of the month. They’re only remaining in London a fortnight, and then they shall return to Yorkshire.”

“I see I must act quickly then.”

“What to do?” she asked.

“To lure you to my new studio,” he said.

Stella’s cheeks flushed with color again. She cast another guarded glance at Jennings.

In his eagerness to speak with his muse, Teddy had temporarily forgotten that his manservant was but a few feet away, witnessing every look and every word. The abrupt reminder caused his chest to tighten on an unexpected surge of bitterness.

It wasn’t uncommon for a fellow to drive out with a groom or tiger in attendance. Were Jennings one of their number, his presence would be ignored. But Jennings was no ordinary servant. His function was more personal and therefore more intrusive.

So, too, might an elderly invalid travel with their nurse—an attendant empowered to convey them here or there, and to tend to them when their condition became too onerous to manage alone.

Teddy had long ago resolved not to be self-conscious about the fact that he needed such care. As Alex had said when he’d first hired the man, Jennings’s presence was the very opposite of a burden. He was there to help Teddy gain a measure of independence.

But this was different.

For the first time in a very long while, Teddy yearned to be, once again, that athletic young man who had strode through Talbot’s Wood five years ago in search of inspiration for his paintings. A man who could meet a young lady on terms of equality, unencumbered by attendants and appliances.

Stella resumed looking straight ahead as she rode. Her own groom followed several lengths behind, too far away to hinder them. “You’ve secured a studio?” she asked in a tone of polite but disinterested inquiry.

Teddy tried not to take it to heart. He told himself that she was merely conscious of Jennings and, therefore, anxious to preserve the proprieties.

At least, Teddy hoped that’s all it was.

Serpentine Bridge lay ahead, and with it a smattering of riders and drivers who had, like them, drifted away from the Row. The moment was no longer suited for private conversation. Not when Stella was riding, and he was driving.

“I’d like to show it to you,” he said. “If you’d be willing.”

She hesitated before answering. “When?”

“May I call on you Monday afternoon at Brown’s? We could drive out to see it, if you’re not otherwise engaged. It’s only but two or three miles from here.”

Another lengthy pause. And then: “I am not engaged,” she said, softly meeting his eyes.

Teddy’s pulse gave an unsteady leap. “Splendid.”

He could talk to her at the studio. There, they could be alone, just the two of them, while Jennings remained on the street with the wagonette. She would be leaving London in less than a fortnight. It would be Teddy’s last and best chance to convince Stella to pose for him before she returned to Derbyshire. He was resolved to do whatever it took.

“Monday, then,” he said. “You may expect me at two o’clock.”

Twenty-One

“You don’t mean to tell me that you’ve already signed the lease?” Alex gave Teddy an incredulous look across the Finchley’s polished mahogany dining table before turning an accusing glare on Tom. “Did you know about this?”

“I did,” Tom said. “It was I who provided the introduction to the estate agent.”

The four of them were seated in the Finchleys’ dining room in Half Moon Street after having just finished their dinner. Two branches of half-melted candles flickered valiantly between them, illuminating the remains of their meal.

Alex crumpled his napkin and tossed it onto the table. “Good God, Tom. I wouldn’t have thought you’d be so careless.”

Jenny carefully folded her own linen napkin before laying it, very precisely, alongside her plate. “Tom is never careless. He always does the exact right thing.”