Page 26 of The Muse of Maiden Lane

“A few.”

She looked at him with that same cautious curiosity. “Why did you discard them? Was it because you couldn’t accurately capture their beauty?”

“Not that,” he said. “It was the light. It’s always the light. Sometimes it eludes me.”

“It might elude you with me, too.”

“It won’t.”

“You’re very confident.”

“I’ve never been more so,” he said. “You’re made of light, Miss Hobhouse. It shines all around you. I’ve never yet met a lady who possesses one fraction of your brilliancy.”

She held his gaze. “You’re exceedingly persuasive when you wish to be.”

“Not persuasive enough, I discern.”

“As to that…” She furrowed her brow. But whatever she intended to say next was interrupted by the sharp sound of a stomach growling.

This time it wasn’t Teddy’s.

His mouth hitched in a swift grin. “Good Lord. Was that you?”

Her face flushed crimson. “I beg your pardon.” She stood abruptly. “I’m afraid I haven’t had my tea, either.”

He pounced on the opportunity with instinctive speed. “Haven’t you?” He rolled a half turn closer to her, all thoughts of remaining aloof and disinterested forgotten. “Then join me. I could use the company.”

She backed up a step. “I don’t think I—”

“It needn’t spoil your tea in the drawing room.”

She gave him a dubious look.

“The grand Christmas tea that Lord March is giving this afternoon,” he reminded her.

She flushed. “Oh yes. That.” Her fingers twined in the folds of her shawl. “I’m afraid I won’t be attending. I’ve been…That is…I’m…”

“Then take tea with me,” he said, ruthlessly pressing his advantage. “You’d be doing me a favor. My sister and brother-in-law are off with the others, and my manservant has gone down to the kitchens to enjoy his own Christmas repast. I’m on my own here. It’s a bit awkward, truth be told.”

Her attention dropped to the wheels of his chair. Her eyes lit in dawning comprehension. “Oh! I’m sorry. I-I didn’t realize.” Her shoulder set with a sudden resolve. An expression of determination came over her. “Yes. Of course, I’ll join you. A cup of tea can surely do no harm.”

Teddy’s stomach sank. Too late, he recognized the conclusion she’d leapt to. She thought his reference to awkwardness had been about his chair, not about the mere fact that he was alone in a strange house, wanting for company. He opened his mouth to set her straight only to stop short.

To the devil with his pride! What did it matter why she remained, so long as she remained?

“Excellent,” he said. “If you would be so kind as to ring the bell?”

Eight

Stella sat across from Mr. Hayes at the small table the footman had prepared for them by the parlor window. He and a maid had brought in a steaming pot of tea, a small plate of sandwiches, and slices of iced gingerbread and brandy-soaked fruitcake. After a bow and a curtsy, and a murmured “Will there be anything else, miss?” both servants had departed. Neither had batted an eye at leaving Stella alone, unchaperoned, with a young man. They hadn’t regarded Mr. Hayes as a threat.

Stella wished she could feel the same. She’d been avoiding Teddy Hayes all morning. Indeed, she’d been avoiding everyone.

Anne had succeeded in washing the green out of Stella’s hair last night. It had taken countless applications of borax and olive oil solution, and an equal number of rinses, before Stella had at last lifted her head from the wash basin to find her hair returned to its natural silver gray. Anne had promptly darted off to find Stella a suitable cap.

Alas, the sort of old-fashioned matron’s cap that covered the whole of one’s hair hadn’t been easy to come by, especially not when they were attempting to keep Stella’s altered hair color a secret from the other guests in attendance. The only one in possession of such an antiquated article had been Anne’s mother. A black cap, naturally, given Lady Arundell’s proclivities. It was more suited to an aged relic in deep mourning than to a young lady of Stella’s tender years.

Stella had donned the cap this morning, nonetheless. She was grateful for it, but she knew full well how it made her look, and the questions it would engender. Only one gentleman would be bold enough to ask them. It had seemed imperative that she evade that gentleman’s scrutiny.