Page 102 of The Muse of Maiden Lane

Stella slowly returned her cup to the table, leaving her tea untouched. She recalled how Teddy had been at Sutton Park. His consistent refusals to join them out of doors. The way Jennings had to lift him from his chair, and the red flush of exertion—and possibly embarrassment—in Teddy’s face as he’d gripped the manservant’s shoulders.

It had struck Stella then, and again yesterday as Jennings had assisted Teddy in and out of the wagonette, how easy it was to forget that Teddy had anything to struggle with. The force of his personality so often overshadowed his physical limitations.

But Stella wasn’t unaware of Teddy’s challenges for all that. She was only ignorant of what she should do to address them. Teddy didn’t want help. He didn’t want pity or sympathy or any degree of fellow feeling. He wanted to be recognized for the things he could control, not for those things he couldn’t. By that measure, wasn’t it better to ignore his disability rather than to always be drawing attention to it with questions, concerns, and offers of assistance?

“I know he struggles,” Stella said. “I have no illusions. But that had nothing to do with me accepting his proposal. I don’t view him that way. To me, he’s just…Teddy.”

“That he is, isn’t he?” Laura smiled again. She nudged Stella’s teacup toward her. “Do drink something, please. You look rather pale.”

“I’ve had a great many surprises in the last week.”

“Change is always surprising. Frightening, too. But it can ultimately be wonderful, in my experience.”

Stella took a reluctant sip of her tea. “Your brother told me that you and he had the benefit of an aged aunt looking after you when you lived in Surrey. But I have no one but myself. I must trust my own judgment.”

“Do you trust it?”

“I do,” Stella said, confessing it as much to herself as to Laura. “I daresay I feel things as deeply as your brother. And I feel that this is right. That he and I are right for each other. I can’t explain it—”

“You don’t need to. Not to me. It’s enough that I can see you care for him. That’s all I require to reassure me.” Laura’s smile turned rueful as she drank her tea. “I know you must think me ridiculously overprotective of him, and doubtless I am, but the thought of anything happening to him—”

“I wouldn’t hurt him,” Stella said. “I mean to make him happy.” And myself, she added silently.

Laura’s expression softened. “I wish I might be around to see it. Alas, my husband and I return to France in the morning. It’s necessary for my health. But it means we won’t be here to attend your wedding.”

Her wedding.

The phrase took Stella off guard. “I confess, I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

“Teddy has,” Laura said. “He laid it all out for us last night, to our astonishment. He’s even secured Mr. Finchley to act for you in protecting your assets.” Her eyes twinkled with sudden humor. “That’s when we knew it was serious. When he was willing to forgo having Finchley for himself so that you could have the very best. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”

A blush threatened. “I didn’t ask him to do that,” Stella said.

“No, indeed. Which made it doubly impressive.” Laura helped herself to a currant bun. Tearing off a piece, she buttered it with her knife. “Will you join us for dinner this evening in Half Moon Street?” she asked. “It won’t be as grand a party as I would have liked to give to celebrate your engagement, but I hope you’ll come all the same. My husband and brother will be there. And the Finchleys, of course.”

“Does Teddy know you’re inviting me?”

“Teddy was off at daybreak this morning to meet with his estate agent about repairs to the property in Maiden Lane. So, no, I haven’t yet broached the subject with him. But he won’t object to it. He’ll want to see you, surely.”

Stella dearly hoped he would. “Very well. I would be happy to attend, if…if my hosts can spare me.”

“I shall invite Captain and Mrs. Blunt, as well,” Laura said. “And Mr. and Mrs. Malik, too, if that would help to ease your anxiety.”

Stella’s shoulders relaxed. She hadn’t realized that she’d been bracing herself. “Yes, it would,” she said gratefully. “Thank you.”

Teddy refilled his champagne glass, only half listening to the loud buzz of conversation around him. There were so many people at dinner that Mrs. Jarrow had to add an extra leaf to the mahogany table and set out two additional branches of candles. In addition to Alex and Laura, and Tom and Jenny, Ahmad and Evelyn had come, along with Ahmad’s cousin, Mira, and her fiancé, Tariq Jones. Mrs. Blunt and Captain Blunt were in attendance, too.

And Stella.

She sat across the table between Tom and Ahmad, talking to each of them in turn as the courses were served. First julienne soup, then braised beef à la flamande with dishes of tomatoes and green peas, followed by a decadent charlotte russe topped with strawberries, and accompanied by several bottles of celebratory French champagne.

Initially, Teddy had been angry to learn that Laura had invited Stella to dine. And it wasn’t only because his sister had gone behind his back—which was aggravating in itself. It was because (he realized with a certain degree of masculine chagrin) he didn’t want to share Stella with his family. Indeed, he didn’t want to share her with anyone.

But share her he must.

For some infernal reason, Jenny had insisted on adhering to a seating plan this evening. The guests were arranged in a traditional male/female pattern, and none of the spouses or betrothed couples sat next to each other. It meant that Teddy had scarcely exchanged ten words with Stella all night.

As he ate and drank and engaged in tedious small talk with his seat partners, he could only look at her, seated across from him in a simple, long-sleeved silk dinner dress, the candlelight flickering over her face and throat, and shining in her neatly plaited silver hair.