The Master & the Muses (29 page)

“Thomas, you just said no one could have stopped this from happening. Not even you. Helen is young and most likely will be able to have more children.”

His gaze shot to mine and he shook his head. The muscle of his jaw ticked as he stared at me, trying to get the words out of his mouth.

“They said it was a girl…she was stillborn. They wouldn't let Helen see her, but I asked to, I had to see her.”

His breathing grew labored. The stoic expression on his face crumpling under the weight he carried inside of him.

“I had a daughter, Grace.”

He fell toward me, his arms encircling my waist, and pressed his face into my lap. His anguish drew out in heart-wrenching
deep sobs. I had no knowledge of how to console him, except to lay my head on his and cry with him. His shoulders shook, his tears expelling the pain until at last he quieted.

I rubbed his back.

“I can't go to the studio tonight, Grace. William is angry with me. I feel lost. Might I stay here?”

He sat up and brushed his cheeks, blew his nose on his handkerchief. “I can sleep on the couch.”

I looked at how it fit barely the two of us. “There is a guest room down the hall. You can stay there if you like. Come on, let me show you where you can wash your face and then I'll bring you some tea.”

“I would rather have port.”

“I know, but I think I should bring you tea.”

He nodded and paused at the door to a small room with a single bed. I'd never used it, but I wondered if Lord and Lady Hoffemeyer had a daughter. Thomas drew me close and hugged me tight, burying his face in my shoulder.

“Thank you, Grace.”

I woke sometime during the night and found Thomas asleep in the reading chair in my bedroom. His long legs were stretched out before him, the blanket pulled up around his shoulders. I drifted back to sleep and, with the light of day, I awoke to find the blanket neatly folded on the chair and Thomas gone.

He sent a note two days later, asking if I would mind staying on and helping out until Helen was fully recuperated. I replied that I felt they needed their privacy at this time. I heard no more after that.

Lord Hoffemeyer's return was delayed for another three weeks due to pressing business, but he told me that he had very special plans for me when he returned next to London. In my letter response, I conveyed the news about Thomas and stated that he was slowly moving forward with his life, but I didn't feel he was ready yet to resume the portrait. Lord Hoffemeyer replied that he would make sure Thomas received an invitation to the gala he was
bringing me to. It would be attended by important people and do Thomas good to get out again and socialize. I did not know what I'd done to deserve such kindness from Lord Hoffemeyer, but I was forever in his debt for how well he treated me and how much he supported Thomas.

 

Lord Hoffemeyer had bought me a beautiful gown, sheepishly admitting to having borrowed one of my dresses to take to the seamstress. He made sure that it would be ready for tonight. It was a deep royal blue, with sequins, satin and ribbons.

“It has never been worn and is the latest in Paris fashion,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

“It's breathtaking.” I held it up to me and turned to face him. The cook looked on admiringly, holding Lord Hoffemeyer's coat and hat.

“Go, try it on, and let me see how it looks.” He insisted as he sat on the settee in the parlor and waited.

The cook assisted me, drawing my corset ribbons so that my bust fit properly in the low-cut gown. I used a bustle, tying it at my waist, before slipping the gown over my head. It dipped off my shoulders, enhancing the plumped-up swell of my breasts. The cook fastened the hooks and I watched in the mirror as I was transformed into a creature of elegance. I wound my hair loose around my head, using long hairpins to secure it. I had only my worn boots to wear, but the gown covered them.

I looked in the mirror, pinching my cheeks, and gently raking my teeth across my lips to give them color. The last time I'd made an attempt to dazzle the London ton, it had been a disaster. I was determined that it would not happen again. I pressed my hands under my bust and shifted my breasts until they lay like a sumptuous satin-wrapped package. With a deep breath, but not too deep, I waltzed into the parlor.

“Oh, my dear, how exquisitely beautiful you look.”

Lord Hoffemeyer stood and came over to me, bowing low. He took my hand and twirled me once, then brought my hand to his
lips. With a look of satisfaction, he held my hand as he took me in from head to foot.

“You look good enough to eat,” he said, leaning forward to place a lingering kiss on my cheek. “Yes, this suits you, Grace. You will be the envy of the ton tonight.”

London 1863

LORD HOFFEMEYER MADE SURE I FELT WELCOME
at the gala. He introduced me to those he knew, praising my taste in art and my skill at dance. It was a thin veneer, we both knew, as I was nothing more than his occasional companion. I knew little about him and he knew very little about me. Still, with Thomas as a common denominator, it was a comfortable arrangement.

When I saw Thomas enter the ballroom, dressed in an elegant black tailcoat, white shirt and cravat, I excused myself.

“I'll be right back,” I said, leaning down to Lord Hoffemeyer's ear.

He squeezed my hand. “Don't be too long. They are about to start the next set.”

I wound my way through the crowd until I reached Thomas. I tapped his back with my fan and he turned, not recognizing me at first. He gave me a hospitable but entirely apathetic smile, which I suspected was making his face stiff by now. Then his eyes widened.

“Grace?”

“You are looking quite dapper this evening, Thomas,” I said. “I wasn't aware that you owned proper evening attire.”

He leaned toward me, the scent of his soap and sandalwood wafting across my nose.

“It's William's,” he whispered. “A bit stuffy.”

“That's because you only wear two frock coats, both designed over seventy years ago.”

He grinned and offered a shrug. “It's good to see you, too, Grace. By the way, I wanted to thank you again for all your help at the studio.”

I was glad that we were able to slip into such natural conversation. “How is Helen? Is she here?”

He grabbed two champagne glasses from a server who walked by. “She's visiting her family.” He handed me a glass and gently touched his to mine. He looked around as he spoke. “So, are you here with Hoffemeyer?”

“Of course, why else would I be here?” The champagne was loosening my tongue.

“Has he said anything about his portrait?”

“No, he hasn't mentioned it,” I replied. “I didn't think you'd be ready yet to return to it.”

“Or was it that you weren't ready, Grace?”

He smiled and gave a young woman a nod as she passed by, looking demurely at him from beneath hooded lids.

“Perhaps you are ready,” I muttered, taking a long swallow of my sparkling drink.

He turned his attention back on me. “You look stunning tonight, Grace.”

“Thank you. It's nice of you to notice.”

“About the portrait—” Thomas began, but Lord Hoffemeyer appeared at my side, interrupting him.

“There you are, you naughty girl. You promised me the next dance.” He looked at Thomas and beamed. “And you've found Thomas, as well! I'm glad you decided to come tonight. There is
something I wish to discuss with you, but it will have to wait. I must steal this woman from you.”

Thomas's smile dissolved.

“Come, Grace. I have a few more people I'd like you to meet.” Lord Hoffemeyer slipped his hand over my upper arm. I glanced back at Thomas as I was steered away from him.

“Milord, if you please,” I said, keeping a smile on my face. I was beginning to tire of his domineering behavior.

“My apologies, Grace. I have been away more than a month and I wanted you all to myself this evening.”

“To yourself?” I asked.

He smiled, the tops of his cheeks turning rosy. “Humor an old man, Grace. I want to look good among this crowd. I have a number of business associates here tonight—wealthy business associates.”

“Of course,” I replied. “I understand.” It was the least I could do to pay him back for all he'd done for me. We danced the next set, which pleased him, but he plopped down on the first chair he could find afterward and wiped his brow.

“Are you well?” I asked, offering him a glass of punch from the nearby refreshment table. I caught the wandering eye of a young server, his gaze riveted to the front of my dress as he paused to offer canapés. I politely gave him a smile.

“Was that boy flirting with you, Grace? I'll have him taking his leave.”

I recoiled in surprise. “You will do nothing of the sort or you may well have to address more than half the men you have introduced me to this evening. Had you not wanted anyone to notice, you should have bought me a gown with a higher neck.”

“You're right.” His eyes drifted to my exposed flesh. “And what a travesty that would be.” He looked up at me sweetly. “You are radiant, my dear. Would you do me the honor of a turn in the garden?”

“Only if you promise to behave yourself.” I tucked my arm through his. We stepped out onto the stone terrace edged by a low wall that shielded it from the garden walk below. Several tiers of
stone steps led to a maze of ornately trimmed hedges and dim lanterns hung on posts. I held Lord Hoffemeyer's arm, enjoying the view of the night sky above and the dimly lit gardens below. The scent of fresh roses and dewy grass permeated the air. Small private seating areas were situated off the main garden path, some containing statues surrounded by benches, others with bubbling fountains.

“Shall we sit a moment, Grace?” He offered me a seat on a stone bench before he settled his large frame next to me.

“How is Lady Hoffemeyer?” I asked, shifting to face him so that our bodies were not so close.

“It's about her that I wanted to speak with you.”

“Certainly, milord. I hope she is not ill.”

“No, nothing of the sort.” He cleared his throat. “Grace, I've been good to you, haven't I?” He placed his hand on my knee.

I moved my leg from beneath his grasp. “Indeed you have, and Thomas was just commenting that he is ready to get back to your portrait.”

“It's not about the portrait.” He turned to face me, taking me by the shoulders. “I need you to now do something for me.”

I frowned, searching his dark eyes, wondering what I had to offer him.

“I need you to become Thomas's lover again.”

“Lord Hoffemeyer, what are you saying?”

“Do not deny that you were once lovers. The look was unmistakable on both of your faces.” His grip grew tighter.

“You're hurting me,” I warned.

His fingers relaxed and he sighed.

“You're so beautiful, Grace, and your heart—”

He placed his hand over my breast.

“You would do anything now that I asked, wouldn't you, my dear? If you knew it would help me?” His fingers squeezed my breast and I jerked away, nearly falling off the bench. His hand darted out, catching my arm and preventing my fall. I righted myself and stood, stepping away from him.

“I don't know what's come over you, milord. Has your kindness been but a ruse to gain way into my drawers? You know what I am, why go to the trouble?”

His dark eyes shot to mine. “Would that have been all I needed to do?” He looked at me, puzzled. “Simply ask you?”

I stopped him with my hand, trying to clarify my swirling thoughts. “Wait, what about the portrait? What about hiring Thomas? What purpose was there in any of that if you only wanted me to have sex with you?” I felt as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over me. In all the times I'd been solicited, none had felt as strange as this.

“Don't you see? I'm afraid I need you and Thomas together.”

“What are you proposing? Thomas and I have not been together for well over a year. He is married and, I would like to think, happily so.”

He brushed his fingers through his wiry gray mustache, a perplexed look on his face. “Yes, I realize that may be a problem.”

He stood then and came to me, slipping his arms around my waist. “I have confidence that you can convince him, Grace. I have seen how he burns for you.”

“And if I refuse?” I stated firmly, trying to extract myself from his arms.

“Listen to me, Grace.” His grip around me tightened. “My wife has very definite tastes. She has wanted one thing since that night at the opera and has hounded me for well over a year for it. Trust me, my wife can be a very demanding woman,” he whispered against my cheek.

Over his shoulder I saw the lights of the ballroom, heard the din of music as it filtered into the night. Here, in the dim shadows, no one could see us unless they knew where to look. I knew he could overpower me without a thought. “What is it that Lady Hoffemeyer wants, milord?” I asked, trying to figure out how to escape him.

“She merely wants a weekend of pleasure, Grace. At our estate in Pomerania. It would be very discreet, very tasteful. You'd have everything you desired.”

“You want me to bed your wife, is that it?” I asked.

A low growl rumbled in his chest. “She wants the both of you—you and Thomas—to join us. I think, Grace, that you both will find my lovely wife can be most accommodating.”

I had been oblivious to his intent. Now I knew that Lord and Lady Hoffemeyer were part of the elite who dabbled in the sex games of the affluent. What they did made street whores look like angels.

“I'm afraid, Lord Hoffemeyer, that I can't agree to—”

“Oh, no…no.” He placed his finger gently to my lips and patted my cheek as if consoling an injured child.

I held my breath, seeing a side to him that I'd not seen before. His gentle manner was deceptive and I had a feeling to rile him would mean grave danger for me.

“You mustn't say you can't, no, no, you mustn't.” He slid the pad of his thumb along my lower lip. “You see, Lady Hoffemeyer has been patiently waiting, and I confess that I, too, have been waiting as long to see you with her…and Thomas.” He chuckled. “Well, Thomas already knows what she is like firsthand.”

“You mean that she is a raving, sadistic lunatic?” Thomas walked out from behind a hedge. “I had a feeling that there might have been more to your hospitality, Lord Hoffemeyer. The nude painting was only an appetizer meant to entice us, am I correct?”

I stared at Thomas, feeling blindly stupid that I hadn't seen this before now.

“She has eccentric tastes, I admit—” Hoffemeyer shrugged “—but you seemed to enjoy yourself last time, Thomas.”

“The only memory I have of that night, I carry right here where your wife started after me with a horsewhip.” He pointed to a scar across his brow. I'd been told it was the result of nothing more than a childhood accident involving William. “Let her go, Hoffemeyer.”

“Let's be reasonable, Thomas. I know that you and Grace can use the money. You have medical bills, I'm certain, and Grace, well, without me, Grace would be on the streets. Why not bring the portrait with you and you can finish it there?”

“I see your wife still keeps you on a short leash,” Thomas remarked, slipping his hand in mine and easing me slowly away from Hoffemeyer's embrace.

Hoffemeyer slid his finger slowly around the inside of his collar, his eyes glittering as he grinned at Thomas. “The critics despise your work, Thomas. Your precious brotherhood will soon tire of that. I can offer you enough so that you'll never have to sell another painting if you don't want to. Think about it. One weekend—I promise to make it the height of pleasure for you both.”

“We aren't interested in your proposition. Now if you'll excuse us—”

Torn from Thomas's grasp, I was hauled backward, stumbling against Lord Hoffemeyer's broad chest.

“I have invested far too much in this to come away empty-handed. And without Grace, there will be no one left to buy your paintings.”

“Thomas, don't listen to him,” I said, struggling against his firm grasp.

“She's the only reason you've still got a roof over your head—or rather, I am. Who do you think has funded her private Rodin collection?”

Thomas's teal gaze swerved to mine.

“Is this true, Grace?” he asked quietly.

I tried to wrench free from Lord Hoffemeyer, but his hold was too tight. “Yes, but—”

Thomas's fist sailed past my face, colliding with Hoffemeyer's nose. The impact sent the baron stumbling backward and he landed on his arse.

“You'll regret this, Rodin. Both of you will. I'll see your name is the laughingstock of the art world.”

“You've not been keeping up, Hoffemeyer. I've already managed to achieve that honor.”

“Thomas,” I said, keeping an eye on Lord Hoffemeyer, who was nursing his nose. I hurried to Thomas's embrace.

Thomas smiled and took off his coat, placing it around my shoulders. “You've torn your dress,” he soothed, cupping my cheek. “Are you all right?”

I nodded, but couldn't stop shaking. “About those paintings. I cherish each one and thought perhaps one day you might have your own gallery….”

“Those are my paintings. I bought every last one of them and I intend to destroy every one unless you change your mind,” Lord Hoffemeyer bellowed as he scrambled to his feet.

“You actually talked this big oaf into buying my art at above-market price, so that you could keep my work?”

“I'm sorry, Thomas. I know this comes as a severe blow to your ego.”

He grabbed my face, kissing me hard.

“You're bloody brilliant, Grace.” He grinned and dissolved into laughter.

I felt a tug and was yanked again from Thomas.

Thomas released a tolerant sigh. “You are a stubborn man, Hoffemeyer.” He bent down and retrieved a fallen tree branch, raising it above his head.

“No, Thomas, that's enough,” I stated. “I won't see you put away for this. He is not worth it.”

“Listen to your wench, Thomas. She has amazing wisdom for a woman of her profession.”

Thomas's gaze slid to mine.

I balled my fist and brought it back hard on Lord Hoffemeyer's already injured nose. Blood spattered onto my glove, dotting my torn dress. I walked to Thomas, my head held high, as Lord Hoffemeyer nursed his likely broken nose.

“I'll have you brought up on charges, Rodin, and your whore will be out on the streets where I found her unless she agrees to go with me now.”