Page 118 of The Muse of Maiden Lane

Teddy’s chest tightened on a surge of tenderness. He could see she was overwhelmed. Was it by emotion? By the reality of what they’d just committed to? Both, possibly. “I just thought of another argument for our marriage,” he said under his breath as they released hands, turning to face their guests. “No need to change the initials on your linens.”

A shadow of a smile tipped her mouth. “I haven’t embroidered the linens yet.”

“Something to look forward to, then,” he said. “Among other things.”

They made their way back down the aisle together to the joyful strains of a Strauss march, he wheeling his new chair and she walking beside him, smiling now, though still a bit tremulously.

Behind them, their guests rose to follow. Mrs. Blunt was clinging to Captain Blunt’s arm, dabbing her eyes with a lacy handkerchief, and Hartford was guiding Lady Anne from their pew, a hand at her waist as he pressed a discreet kiss to her temple.

Captain Thornhill and Lady Helena were smiling at each other, possibly remembering their own unconventional wedding, which had taken place not in a church but in a registrar’s office after only a few days’ acquaintance; Neville and Clara held hands, their faces aglow; and Tom and Jenny lingered, heads bent together in intimate conversation, exchanging soft words as they waited for Mira and Mr. Jones to join them.

Evelyn and Ahmad walked behind the guests, the de facto parents of the bride, reminding everyone about the wedding breakfast that Jenny Finchley was hosting for the newlyweds in Half Moon Street.

“Shall we go?” Teddy asked Stella, before their guests could overtake them. “Tom has engaged a carriage for us. The wagonette doesn’t best suit the rain.”

“I prefer a carriage today,” she said.

So did he. In a closed carriage, there would be no Jennings looming over their shoulders.

Alas, Teddy couldn’t dispense with the man completely. Not even on his wedding day.

Jennings waited at the church doors to assist Teddy down the steps and into the waiting carriage. The vehicle had been bedecked with garlands at the start of the day, but the rain had played havoc with the flowers. Scarcely a bloom retained its petals.

Teddy insisted that Stella precede him into the cab. Jennings obligingly trotted forward to hand her in while Teddy remained under the stone outcropping at the top of the church steps.

“Do take care not to get too wet, Mr. Jennings,” Stella said to the manservant as she climbed inside the carriage. “You mustn’t catch cold.”

“I’m right enough, miss.” Jennings reddened. “I mean, ma’am. I mean, er, Mrs. Hayes.” He bowed awkwardly before bounding back up the steps to fetch Teddy.

Teddy’s mouth quirked at the manservant’s stammering. “My wife’s civility must make a nice change from my infernal moods,” he commented as Jennings hoisted him from his chair.

“I don’t pay no mind, sir,” Jennings replied, conveying Teddy to the carriage. “Mr. Archer said when he hired me as how I wasn’t to take your bouts of temper to heart.”

“Did he indeed?”

“He said none of it were personal. That it was all owing to frustration, on account of that chair of yours.”

Teddy could easily imagine Alex saying just that. Making excuses for Teddy, even as he tried to smooth Teddy’s path back into the land of the living. Teddy felt a distinct pang of gratitude for his brother-in-law, and for his sister, too. He hadn’t always appreciated their interference—or anyone’s, come to that—but he recognized when he’d benefited from it.

Despite his moods, his surliness, and his intermittent bouts of melancholy, his family had been there for him unreservedly. So, too, had his friends. Even new acquaintances like Felix Hartford had helped Teddy, often whether he liked it or not.

“The old chair, perhaps,” Teddy said. “But not this one.” He flashed a look at his mahogany and brass pneumatic marvel that had helped to further smooth his path in life. “This one has drastically improved my outlook.”

“It won’t be damaged in the rain, will it?” Stella asked as Teddy settled into the carriage seat beside her.

Teddy’s hair was damp and his suit rumpled from Jennings’s heavy-handed assistance. “The coachman brought a tarpaulin for it.”

It took but a few moments longer to secure the chair to the carriage, and then Teddy and Stella were off, leaving their friends behind, waving them off on the steps of the church.

“You’re not regretting it, are you?” Teddy asked her the instant they were alone.

Stella shook her head. “No,” she said. “Are you?”

“No.” He glanced out the window at the fog rolling over the street. “I’m just impatient to return to my work. The painting is nearly finished.”

That same inexplicable look crossed her face. “Yes. I know.”

“All it wants is the final touches. You in your gossamer net, and a bit of that fog over the water. I could paint it as it stands, providing it would cease raining long enough for me to set up my easel on the banks of the river.”