Page 114 of The Muse of Maiden Lane

“My manservant is away on an errand,” Teddy replied. “I shall have to wait until he returns.”

“You don’t need Mr. Jennings,” Stella said. “I can help you.”

Teddy inwardly recoiled at the offer. Only moments ago, he’d been holding her in his arms and kissing her. Laughing with her like any young man might do with his sweetheart. He’d felt giddy. Alive.

He wasn’t going to ruin that by allowing her to help him out of one dratted chair and into another. An invalid’s chair, by God! It was bad enough that she must be here to witness his enthusiasm over such a device.

“That won’t be necessary,” he said tersely. “Jennings will be back soon.”

“Shall I assist you, sir?” Mr. Abbott offered. “It’s best you become acquainted with the chair while I’m here. I can explain all its little ways to you.”

Teddy’s jaw hardened. “If you wouldn’t mind waiting—”

Stella’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. She gave it a wordless squeeze.

What it was meant to convey, Teddy didn’t know. He glanced up at her. There was a streak of French ultramarine oil paint across her cheek. It was a stark reminder of the glorious embrace they had just shared.

The anxiety in his chest slowly began to ease, replaced with a growing weight of warmth.

He was still embarrassed. Still resentful in his vulnerability—afraid that she would view him as something less than a man. But he wasn’t going to shut her out. Not anymore.

If she wanted to be part of his life, she could bloody well be part of it. And if it resulted in driving her away—

Well.

At least he wouldn’t have driven her away first with his own surliness and bad temper.

“Very well,” he said. “If you must.”

Stella beamed. “What shall I do?”

“Will you hold my chair steady? As still as you can?”

She went behind him to grip the backrest. Teddy felt her there, as immovable as a pillar of steel. He had the vague thought that riding a difficult mare for so many years had given her an unseen reservoir of power. Luminous as she appeared, she was no will-o’-the-wisp. She was formidable. Strong.

“Mr. Abbott—” Teddy refocused his attention on the task at hand. “Would you bring the prototype right up next to me? Just there. Close enough for me to reach the seat. And if you could, please, lift the arm up on its hinges?”

Mr. Abbott did as he was told, at once appearing to understand what Teddy intended. “I’ll set the brake, sir.”

“Good man.” One at a time, Teddy removed his booted feet from the footrests. He glanced back at Stella, feeling another flash of anxiety. “Don’t let this chair move.”

She gave him a bracing look. “No fear of that.”

Inhaling a deep breath, Teddy placed his hands on the arms of his chair. Using all of his strength, he lifted his lower body up from the seat. It was nothing he hadn’t done before when training his muscles. But this time, he didn’t limit the movement to a straight up-and-down motion. He swung himself forward, bringing his hips right up to the edge of the seat.

Once there, he lowered himself again. His biceps were trembling, the muscles of his abdomen clenching with effort. Leaning forward, he placed a hand on the seat of the prototype. He gave it an experimental push. The prototype didn’t budge.

“Are you going to—” Stella started to ask.

“Yes,” Teddy said. “If I should fall in the process—”

“You won’t,” she told him. “Don’t even imagine it.”

He understood what she meant. Envisioning failure was as good as willing it into existence. One couldn’t think that way. Not when one was risking their body. Their pride.

“Here goes,” he said.

Using all his strength, he again lifted himself up from his seat, this time with one hand on the seat of his old chair and one on the seat of the new one. It was only a short distance. An angled swing of his hips, a split second of sheer panic, and then he landed with a thump onto the seat of the protoype.