Page 84 of The Muse of Maiden Lane

Jenny slowly sat back down, and Tom resumed his seat. Their faces were vivid with concern.

Alex put his arm around his wife. He murmured something to her. Laura leaned into him, murmuring back. “It’s all right, love,” Alex said. “Teddy understands.”

Teddy felt a deep spasm of remorse. He knew he shouldn’t be upsetting his sister in her condition. Indeed, he didn’t want to upset her. At the same time…

He recognized all at once the full powerlessness of his position. There was only this thread—this thin, shining filament of independence—for the first time dangling within his reach. He had the sinking sense that, if he didn’t grasp it now, it would be lost to him forever.

“I do understand,” he said tightly. “You want me close. Either that, or living with someone who’ll keep me safe.”

Laura wiped a stray tear from her eye. “Yes.”

“And yet, I’m not an invalid. Despite all this”—Teddy motioned to his legs and his chair—“and despite the fact that Jennings must trudge after me everywhere like the dratted angel of death. There are gouty old gentlemen more infirm than I am, and they maintain entire estates, not to mention houses in town.”

Alex leveled a warning look at him. “Your sister and I have made our wishes plain. They’re not unreasonable. You can return to France with us on Wednesday, or you can remain in town with Tom and Jenny. I think their offer is more than generous.”

The whole of Teddy’s spirit revolted against the ultimatum. And the fact that Alex was the one issuing it! Alex, the very man who had encouraged Teddy to regain his independence, to find a French art teacher, and to live for a time in Paris studying with Gleyre, for God’s sake.

From the beginning, Alex had supported and encouraged Teddy in all his efforts.

But this wasn’t Alex now, Teddy realized. This was a husband and, soon to be, first-time father. A man who was, himself, scared and uncertain of what the future might hold. That’s why he was behaving so bloody irrationally, tossing out warning glares and infernal ultimatums. Because he’d do anything, sacrifice anything, to safeguard the well-being of his wife and his unborn child.

Deep down, Teddy understood that. It made the ultimatum no easier a pill to swallow.

Jenny smiled at Teddy encouragingly. “If you stayed with us, we could have our coachman convey you to your studio each day. It wouldn’t be too terrible, would it?”

“An existence by your leave?” Teddy asked. “By all of your leaves?”

“It’s either that or return to Grasse with your sister,” Tom said. “That seems to be the consensus.”

A consensus? Since when did a man’s freedom of movement require a consensus? It didn’t. It shouldn’t, regardless of his physical condition. Not if that man had reached his majority.

Teddy’s mouth twisted with bitterness. He rolled back his chair from the table. “Two whole options, and neither of them of my own devising.” He angled his wheels to leave. “I’m spoiled for choice.”

“I leave it to you to make it,” Alex said as Teddy rolled to the door. “The steamer departs on Wednesday morning. Unless you’ve come to a prior arrangement with the Finchleys, I expect you to be on it.”

Twenty-Two

“Mr. Hayes?” Evie said in surprise. She brought her blood bay Spanish stallion, Hephaestus, back down to a trot. “The gentleman who uses a wheeled chair?”

Stella reined in Locket. The mare shook her silvery white head in protest, preferring to continue the spirited gallop that Stella and her two friends had just been enjoying down the length of a secluded avenue on the north side of Hyde Park, far from the intrusion of the less-experienced riders in Rotten Row.

“He mentioned that you’d met before,” Stella said.

“We have.” Evie brushed back one of the curling black feathers of her stylish green felt riding hat. It was made to match the green of her habit—a masterpiece of tailoring that hugged her voluptuous figure in all the best ways. It had been the first riding costume her husband had made for her. “Mr. Hayes was staying with Mr. and Mrs. Finchley in the autumn, at their house in Half Moon Street. I was introduced to him on one of the evenings Mr. Malik and I went to dine.”

Julia slowed her ebony gelding, Cossack. Like Evie and Stella, she wore an immaculately fitted habit of Mr. Malik’s design. Rich black in color, with a stylish velvet collar, it complemented the sheen of Cossack’s coat. “Who is Mr. Hayes?” she asked.

“A gentleman artist,” Evie replied.

“One of considerable talent,” Stella said. “Though perhaps not in the fashionable sense.”

“I meant who is he to you,” Julia amended.

Stella straightened her skirts over her legs. Her own habit was a dark plummy purple, every dart and seam placed with expert intention. It was the same one she’d worn yesterday afternoon when meeting Teddy in Rotten Row. “He’s a friend,” she said.

“Is that all?” Evie inquired.

“As to that…” Stella wavered before confessing. “He may have asked me to model for one of his paintings.”