Chapter Twenty-Three

Twenty-Three

Stella could have refused. Indeed, she should have done. A young lady shouldn’t be going into an empty house, or anywhere so private in nature, with a gentleman unaccompanied. But she knew Teddy. She trusted him. And she was too dratted curious to deny herself the opportunity to see his future studio firsthand.

Entering the small, shadowy hall, with its steep, narrow staircase, she waited as Teddy rolled in after her. He left the front door open behind him in a minor concession to propriety.

“This is nothing impressive,” he said. “But beyond it are four good-sized reception rooms.”

He wheeled himself down the hall to a doorway on the left. It led to an expansive drawing room flanked by several windows. One of them was the same half-boarded front window Stella had observed from the street. Rays of light shone in through the grease and the grit, casting dancing shimmers over the dusty, slatted wood floor.

“The previous tenant had this as a parlor,” Teddy said, “and the others as a study, library, and music room. But I have another idea for how to use them.”

Stella wandered at his side as the two of them surveyed the large room. There was some abandoned furniture scattered about—a sagging settee with the stuffing coming out of it, and a tall chair propped in the corner with a torn damask cushion. A broad wooden seat, built for the purpose, had been fitted low in front of the window. Its lacquered finish bore several deep scratches.

“Will this be your studio?” she asked, looking about her.

“It will. Not only because of the light, but because it’s at the front of the house. It will be less tiresome if people come in to look at my paintings.”

“And the back rooms will be your private residence?”

Teddy nodded. “A parlor, and bedrooms for myself and Jennings.”

She followed him to look at the other reception rooms. They were as grimy as the large reception room had been, but Stella could nevertheless see the appeal. “All of your needs will be met on the ground floor. You’ll have no cause to go upstairs.”

“That’s the idea,” Teddy said.

“But there must be several rooms above.”

“Not too many, actually. Just enough for a housekeeper-cook, and the occasional houseguest. You can go up and look at them if you like.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

Stella briefly considered demurring out of politeness. But only briefly. Once again, her curiosity got the better of her. “I shan’t be a minute,” she said.

“I’ll be here.” Teddy stopped his wheeled chair by the large window in his future studio. “Find me when you’re done.”

She retreated back to the staircase in the hall. The banister was a good solid oak, with only minor damage to one of the posts. She examined it briefly as she ascended, just as she examined the snug bedrooms located above. There was no draft. No damp. With a little paint and paper, and a few colorful furnishings, the house wouldn’t just be habitable. It would be cozy. Charming. To be sure, it would be a home.

Returning downstairs, she found Teddy waiting in the same spot beside the window where she’d left him. His expression was pensive.

His mouth curved faintly when he saw her. “Well? What’s the verdict?”

“I like it immensely.” Stella sank down on the window seat, bringing their eyes level. She preferred talking to him this way to standing over him. It was more companionable. More intimate. “I expect you’ll be very happy here.”

“Yes, well…” He ran a hand over his hair. “That was the plan.”

She inhaled a deep breath, sighing a bit dreamily as she once again took in the light through the windows. It wasn’t the most brilliant of rooms. Not as bright, certainly, as the small parlor at Sutton Park. But there was something otherworldly to it. Almost magical.

Perhaps it was the gleam of the grease on the windowpanes. Or perhaps it was the fact that the two of them were alone—wholly alone.

“Is this where you would have painted me?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“And paid me, according to your letters.”

His clever blue-gray eyes were suddenly intent. “You’ve been considering it.”

“I confess, I have.”

“And?”

Stella’s pulse skipped. She understood what she was doing. She was taking a risk with her reputation. With her entire future. But she was seeking employment, wasn’t she? By that measure, the decision was practical, not reckless. Any payment she received from Teddy would be used to offset her living expenses.

“I’ve decided to do it,” she said.

Teddy’s eyes blazed. But he didn’t say anything. He only looked at her steadily.

Stella feared she hadn’t made herself plain. “I’ll pose for your painting,” she clarified. “If you still want me—”

“I want you,” he said. “Make no mistake. I only—” He broke off. “Things have become a bit complicated of late. But…regardless…I’ll still be using the house as my studio. Providing the repairs can be done expeditiously, and providing you’re at liberty to come each day until the portrait is finished. It could be months. And with you returning to Derbyshire next week—”

“I am not returning to Derbyshire.”

His gaze bore into hers, making her pulse skip its rhythm. “ What? ”

“I’m not ever returning.” Stella gave Teddy an abridged explanation of the events that had transpired at the vicarage—of Daniel’s ultimatum and her dire response to it. “So, you see, I’m completely on my own now, and fully at liberty to do as I please.”

Rather than being encouraged by the news, Teddy appeared to be vexed by it. His face darkened with evident concern. “But…where will you live?”

“After Mrs. Blunt and her husband return to Yorkshire, I shall stay with Mrs. Malik for a time. But only temporarily. I intend to seek employment.”

“Doing what?”

“The only thing I’m qualified for. I shall find work as a lady’s companion. I’m already adept at being inconspicuous. The only difference is now I shall hopefully be compensated for it.”

Teddy’s ebony brows sank ominously. He didn’t look at all enthused by her plan. Rather the reverse.

“It will suit perfectly,” Stella said, attempting to make him understand. “I’ll pay Locket’s expenses with the income from my inheritance, and take care of my other needs with the wages from my new position. For anything else, I shall use the money I earn from posing for you.” She gave him a quizzing look. “So, you mustn’t attempt to stint me.”

He didn’t laugh at her teasing. He didn’t even smile.

Stella’s own smile faded. A knot of building indignation formed in her chest. “You don’t approve.”

“No,” he said bluntly. “I don’t.”

“May I ask why?”

He rolled a half turn away from her. His handsome face was hard and humorless. “You’ve just articulated to me your master plan to make yourself invisible for the remainder of your life. A lady’s companion? A drudge, more like. Even if you spend twice a day in the saddle, galloping your heart out, the remainder of your hours will be spent doing the bidding of some high-handed lady who’ll expect you to blend into the woodwork.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing for the last two-and-twenty years?” Stella asked, affronted. “Just because I ride with abandon, and just because you once observed me foolishly color my hair, doesn’t mean I’m not acquainted with the drudgery of the day to day.”

“I know you are. I’ve seen how you strive for it. Even when we met in the park.”

She inwardly flinched. And here she’d thought she looked rather fetching in her habit! “What about the park?”

“You covered your hair.”

“I always do when I ride.”

“Because you want to be inconspicuous?” He wheeled away, turning his back on her. “How I begin to despise that word.”

Stella refrained from pointing out that it was her hair she wanted to be inconspicuous, not the rest of her person. It wasn’t Teddy’s business. He had no right to judge her. “This from the gentleman who refused every single outing at Sutton Park merely because he didn’t wish people to observe him being moved in and out of his chair.”

Teddy’s shoulders tensed visibly at her words.

Stella feared she’d gone too far. She rose to follow him. “But I don’t judge you for it,” she went on quickly. “Because I understand the impulse.” She stopped several feet away from him in frustration. “In any case, I don’t know what all that has to do with my posing for you. Considering how you kept after me, I thought you’d be over the moon!”

Teddy grumbled something under his breath.

Stella stepped closer to him. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I said,” he ground out, “you deserve more than a life in the background.”

A surge of emotion took her unaware. She ruthlessly suppressed it. “Yes, well…People seldom get what they deserve. One must be sensible. Which is why I’ve fixed on being a companion. My friends are inquiring after opportunities on my behalf. I hope to be settled somewhere within a month. So, unless you can suggest a more favorable alternative for—”

“Perhaps there is one,” he interrupted. “Something better suited to the both of us.”

Stella didn’t know what he had to do with it. She asked him nevertheless. “What do you propose?”

“Just that.” At last, Teddy rolled his chair around to face her. “A proposal.”

?Stella looked at him blankly. “I beg your pardon?”

Teddy faced her, his jaw gone hard. The muscles in his arms, shoulders, and abdomen contracted as though preparing to receive a blow. But he didn’t think about the consequences to his pride. He only thought about what Stella needed in that moment.

And what he needed.

“I’m asking you to marry me,” he said.

She stilled. Her face went pale.

“I see the idea shocks you.”

“No,” she protested. “That is—”

“Before you refuse out of hand, allow me to make an argument for the case.” Teddy cleared his throat. His cravat felt damnably tight all of a sudden. “Firstly, you require a home of your own. I have a home now. A large enough one, with ample room for both you and your mare. There’s a coach house at the back. Did I mention it?”

“No.” Her voice was a mere thread of sound.

He doggedly continued. “Secondly, you require your independence. I can give you that, too. What woman has more independence than a married lady? You could go where you choose—with whom you choose. There would be nothing to stop you any longer.”

She opened her mouth to speak.

Teddy forestalled her. “Thirdly, you require a drawing master. Who better than me? I could teach you here. It would be my pleasure to do so.” He plowed on before he could lose his nerve. “As to the other impediments—the fact that we would be married, and that we would, by necessity, be obliged to live together, I say again: the house is a large one. You could have the upstairs to yourself, and I the downstairs. We need only meet when I paint you, or when I’m helping you with your sketching.”

An expression of reluctant understanding came over her. “You’re proposing a marriage of convenience.”

“Something of the sort, yes.” Teddy honestly didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. It would easily solve both their problems. From his desire to set up his own establishment, to her need to have a home of her own. He had no doubt they could make it work. They were neither of them fools.

Folding her arms, Stella paced to the window, the hem of her velvet-trimmed skirts brushing softly over the slatted floor, stirring up dust motes. Her back was very straight. “But you don’t want to marry me.”

“Don’t I?”

“You don’t want to marry anyone. You’ve said so before. You don’t want anyone to bother you.”

“And you would?”

“I daresay I might.” She glanced at him over her shoulder with a fleeting, bitter smile. “I may be quiet and unassuming in most of my life, but make no mistake, I have a wildness in me. It bursts out on occasion in the most alarming ways.”

Some of the tension in Teddy’s muscles eased. He comprehended her meaning. He’d seen that very wildness, shimmering beneath the surface of her ladylike facade. It was that which had first called to him so many months ago. Not her stillness or her gravity, but the untamed spirit beneath, as strong and unpredictable as the raging seas in a Turner painting.

“You couldn’t alarm me if you tried,” he said.

“Don’t be so sure.” Stella tugged restlessly at the fingers of one of her gloves. “I like to go fast. To take risks on occasion. To feel as though I’m a pulsebeat away from peril.”

“Galloping your mare, I know.”

“Not only galloping, but in other ways. Try as I might to behave myself, I inevitably do something rash. It might subject you to scandal.”

“What care I for scandal? I’m an artist, not a country vicar.”

“An artist with your reputation to consider. What if my conduct gave rise to malicious talk? What if…What if someone in society made me a figure of fun?”

“Remote possibilities, surely.”

She gave a hollow laugh. “Not so remote. I’ve had a poem written about me once already. It was a powerful thing. A few words, carelessly composed. Enough to ruin me, practically.”

“ A poem? ” Teddy arched a brow. This was the first he’d heard of it. “What did it say?”

“That I was a gray wraith searching out a husband like some manner of grandmotherly succubus.”

He was surprised into a crack of laughter.

But Stella wasn’t laughing. “It was hard enough to bear it myself. But you won’t appreciate being made a joke, not when you’re just starting out. And not when I’ll be the model of your first major piece.”

He rolled a half turn closer to her, his expression sobering. “Who wrote it?”

“The poem? I don’t know. It was anonymous.”

“You must have your suspicions.”

“None. There were any number of snickering young lords hanging about during my debut. Any one of them could have been the culprit—or more than one. The point is, I can only be small and quiet for so long, and then—”

“Forget being small and quiet,” Teddy said in a burst of passionate impatience. “I’m asking you to be conspicuous with me! To marry me and live here with me in Maiden Lane. We can do what we want, when we want. There will be nothing and no one to rein us in, save the limits of our own inclinations.”

Stella turned to him. There was a storm of conflict in her eyes. He’d confused her. Overwhelmed her. “I don’t know what I want,” she admitted. “I’ve never had the freedom to properly discover it.”

Teddy felt a fierce rush of tenderness for her. He wheeled his chair the rest of the way across the room, joining her by the window. “If we marry, you’ll have all the freedom you require,” he said. “I can’t promise you a conventional life, but I can promise you that.”

Stella slowly lowered back down onto the window seat, bringing them eye to eye. “As much freedom as a husband is willing to give a wife?”

“More,” he said. “We wouldn’t be marrying to satisfy some antiquated social convention. We’d be marrying to please ourselves.”

“Would it please you?”

“Would it you?”

She briefly looked away. “I suppose that, deep down…I’d always hoped I might marry for love, as my friends have.”

A sense of impending rejection tightened his throat. Good God. After all that—the risk to his pride, to his very heart—was she truly going to refuse him? His voice went hoarse. “Have you someone in mind? Another gentleman?”

“No. I’ve never met anyone I liked enough.” Her eyes returned to his. There was an endless pause. “Not until you.”

Teddy swallowed hard. “There you are, then. You have your answer. It may not be love or romance or some high-brow courtship struck up during the season, but we like each other well enough. It’s more than most couples can boast.”

“What about children?” she asked.

His stomach tightened. “What about them?”

“Do you want children?”

“Do you ?” he countered.

Her cheeks darkened with a rising blush. “What if I did?”

An answering heat crept up Teddy’s neck at the unspoken question. He might have known she would be bold enough to broach the subject. “I’m capable,” he said, “if that’s what you’re asking.”

It was the truth as far as he knew, though he’d never yet fully tested the proposition. Despite the many prostitutes who had come to pose at the atelier, most of whom had engaged in regular affairs with the other artists, Teddy hadn’t yet experienced the ultimate intimacy.

Not because he was unnecessarily prudish, or on account of some high-blown romantic ideal. It was a question of vulnerability. He’d have to trust a woman—really trust her. And perhaps something more. Not love, no. But a certain sense of mutual affection and care. There would have to be that, at least, to offset the chance of any difficulty.

And there might very well be difficulty.

What if things didn’t work as he’d hoped? What if he lost control? Made a fool of himself?

A prostitute would have undoubtedly managed his deficiencies with an air of jaded professionalism. But Teddy had never wanted that experience. Not with a stranger who cared only for his coin.

“Then, would you want…” Stella struggled for words. “Would you expect…”

“I have no expectations in that regard,” he said. “But I daresay we could come to some arrangement. If that’s what you really wanted.”

Her blush deepened from petal pink to crimson. “I don’t…I only wondered—if we did marry—”

He gently took her hand, silencing her embarrassed stammering. “All I ask,” he said, “is that you give me three months to complete this painting. After that, your time will be your own.”

She went quiet, considering the proposition. Having done so, she appeared to collect herself. “As tempting as the arrangement sounds…I don’t want a marriage of convenience.”

The rejection struck Teddy as powerfully as a blow. He nearly released her hand. And then—

“If we marry,” she said, “I intend to fall in love with you.”

Teddy struggled to keep his countenance.

He’d been wrong. She wasn’t rejecting him. She was raising the stakes. Love , she’d said. Not like any longer. Not convenience . But love .

He looked at her steadily. “I should be honored if you did.”

The response seemed to settle her doubts. She took a deep breath. Her expression turned serious. “We would need some sort of legal agreement to protect Locket. I’m not so ignorant of the world that I’d let her fall within a husband’s power. Not even an unconventional husband like you.”

His mouth ticked up at one corner. “I know an excellent solicitor.”

“And I must have my inheritance protected.” Stella’s businesslike tone was belied by the brilliance of color in her cheeks. “I refuse to be left destitute should things fall apart.”

“You shall have everything you require,” he vowed.

“What do you require?”

“Only you.”

“Only me, acting as your model, you mean.”

“I mean you ,” Teddy said. He pressed her hand. “And if anyone ever again has the temerity to insult you, through their rubbish poetry or by any other method, I promise you that henceforward they shall answer to me.”

Stella’s face fractured. She tugged her hand from his, eyes filling with tears.

Teddy moved toward her in swift dismay. “What have I said? I meant to reassure you, not upset you.”

She swiped at her cheeks. “I’m being excessively stupid. It’s only that…no one has ever defended me before, except for my friends. My brother was forever intimating that any insults were my own fault for inspiring them. He said I was too loud and opinionated—”

Teddy was learning to despise Stella’s sanctimonious brother. That anyone should try to dim her brilliance!

He brought his hands to frame her face, halting her speech. She broke off, meeting his gaze with quivering uncertainty. He heard her inhale an uneven breath.

“Be loud,” he told her. “Be opinionated. Be as much yourself as you wish—and then some. Once we’re wed, you and I will answer to no one but each other.”

Stella’s mouth trembled.

His head was already bent to hers. There were but a few inches left between them, taut with mingled breath and heat and the stirring fragrance of lilacs. The temptation was too great to resist. Heart thundering madly, Teddy closed the distance and pressed his lips to hers.

Her eyes fell shut as he captured her mouth. A soft murmur of assent throbbed in her throat.

The sound sent a wild rush of heat through his veins. But he wasn’t precipitate. This was too important. He kissed her again, with passionate deliberation.

She curled her fingers around his wrists as he cradled her face. It wasn’t a restraint. She was holding him to her, not pushing him away. Her lips softened beneath his, warm and sweet, and she was kissing him back, just as she had in Hampshire.

The grubbiness of the house fell away. The grime, the dust, and the grease-streaked, half-boarded windows. There was no one else—not Jennings, nor Teddy’s family, nor any of Stella’s friends. It was only the two of them.

I intend to fall in love with you , she’d said.

But Teddy had already fallen, with no intention whatsoever. He knew that now, beyond all doubt.

At length, he drew back from her. His thumbs moved over the blushing curves of her cheeks—tender, reassuring, distinctly proprietary. She was made to be his. He’d recognized it the first time he saw her.

“So, what say you, my beautiful shining star?” he asked huskily. “Is it a yes?”

Stella gazed back at him. Her lips were swollen, her breath unsteady. Her tear-damp eyes took on a gleam of determination. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, Teddy, I’ll marry you.”