The Master & the Muses (26 page)

My pride stung, but I knew it would ease with time. What I did not know was how long it would take for my heart, which I had cautiously opened to this man, to heal. The gown was loose enough that, with a bit of maneuvering, I pulled it off my arms and quickly slid it over my hips. Extracting myself at last, I held it up and dropped the entire sequined mess in his lap. “There you are, Thomas. Now you needn't worry. Perhaps you can find a model that you feel worthy to be seen with you.” I reached for the carriage handle and stepped onto the street, clad only in my chemise, corset, drawers and shoes.

“Jesus, Grace, be reasonable.”

I stormed down the street, ignoring the prattle of calls and whistles from drunken pub patrons. The carriage rattled to my side with Thomas leaning out of its window.

“Grace, I cannot express how utterly infantile this looks. I am only going to offer one last time. Get in this carriage and let's talk like sensible human beings.”

“You are an arse, Thomas Rodin.” I jabbed my finger toward him.

“You tell the bloke, little girl,” a drunk leaning against the building said, waving his bottle.

“Let me give you a ride home.”

I stopped and faced him then, my hands balled against my hips. “In case you've forgotten, Thomas, this is my home!”

His gaze narrowed. Oh, but he was bloody angry with me, which suited me fine as I was more angry with him.

“Fine, be a stubborn wench,” he snapped.

“Thank you kindly, sir. At least I know who I am.” I spit back. More cheers went up from behind.

“Pigheaded female,” he called, smacking the side of the carriage to signal the driver.

“Two-faced toad,” I yelled at the departing carriage. I'd shown him that he couldn't treat me like a pet pony, grooming me to show off to his friends. I held in my tears, hurrying along the dank streets, until I reached the safety of my little room above the pub. Only then did I allow the sobs to rack my body, until finally exhausted, I drew my thin blanket over me and fell asleep.

FOUR MONTHS TURNED TO SIX, SIX MONTHS TO
a year, and still I'd received no word from Thomas. I couldn't say I was surprised. I suppose I'd hurt his pride as he had mine. What I had saved from my wages for posing kept me in good standing with the owner of the pub and I offered to help him wait tables and make small talk with the gents one or two nights a week. From time to time, I would go to the Cremorne and found it odd that many of my former clients—having seen my name associated with the brotherhood—did not come around with the same frequency as before. It was not as if I missed the intimacy, though I was lonely. I found Deidre asleep on one of the benches one night. She hadn't eaten in days and she had nowhere to go, so I offered to buy her dinner at the pub.

“Thank you, Grace. You've no idea what this means to me.” She stuffed another piece of fish into her mouth, following it with a swallow of ale.

“I understand, Deidre. I've been there before. We need to watch out for each other, don't we? We're all the family we've got.”

She looked at me, her deep green eyes filled with too much
knowledge for her young age. “Whatever happened to that artist chap? Did he have his way with ya and cast ya off, then?”

I considered her words, grappling with who had cast off whom. “I posed for a few of his projects. My services were no longer needed after that.”

She made a disgusted sound in her throat. “Ain't that just the way of it?”

“I suppose.” A twinge of pain, duller now than six months ago, nudged at my heart.

“Excuse me, are you Miss Farmer?”

I looked up at the large man standing next to our table. His thick foreign accent sounded vaguely familiar. He wore a fine coat and derby, and from what I could tell, most of his hair was on the bushy mustache perched above his wide grin.

He held out his hand to me. “Lord Hoffemeyer. I don't suppose I would be so lucky that you would remember me. We met about a year ago at the opera. You were with Mr. Rodin.”

“Of course, Lord Hoffemeyer. I didn't recognize you at first. Something is different.”

He chuckled. “Perhaps it is the absence of Lady Hoffemeyer?”

I didn't hide my frank surprise. “Perhaps you're right. I remember her as being particularly elegant.” I withdrew my hand from his firm grasp. “How is Lady Hoffemeyer?” I glanced at Deidre, who seemed mesmerized by Lord Hoffemeyer's watch-fob chain.

His delighted expression dimmed. “I wonder if it would be too bold to ask that you take a walk with me, Miss Farmer. There is a matter of some importance I would like to discuss with you.”

I looked at Deidre, realizing that I hadn't introduced her yet. She raised her brow. “Lord Hoffemeyer, this is Deidre—” I faltered, realizing that I didn't know her last name.

“Just Deidre, guv'ner.” She extended her filthy hand to him. To my surprise, he took it and kissed it, causing poor Deidre to turn a shade of crimson.

“Will you be all right if I go for a short walk with Lord Hoffemeyer?” I asked.

“Ah, sure, go on. I'll see ye later.”

“A pleasure.” Hoffemeyer bowed to Deidre.

I could have kissed him. “You were very kind to my friend, milord. It takes a special man to be so kind.”

He offered me a slight smile and we walked side by side in silence for a minute or two. Part of me wondered if he'd spoken to Thomas recently and if that might have anything to do with what he wanted to tell me.

He was a handsome man for his age. There were streaks of silver in his dark mustache and crinkles at the corners of his brown eyes.

“It's my understanding that you are no longer posing for the brotherhood. More specifically, Mr. Rodin.”

I glanced up at him with a questioning look. “If Thomas sent you here…”

He shook his head, “No I haven't spoken to him since that night. You two hurried off so quickly.”

“I must apologize, milord. I don't know what got into Thomas that night.”

“He said nothing to you?”

I shook my head as I looked out across the Thames. “No, I'm afraid we had an argument that night and I haven't seen him since.”

“That is unfortunate,” he replied, stuffing his hands in his coat pocket. “I hear he has a new model working for him now, a stunning redhead, or so an acquaintance of the brotherhood told me.”

I tried not to let it show that the news twisted something deep inside me. With time, I had convinced myself that Thomas and I were never meant to be. “He always thought red hair was exotic,” I said, forcing a smile on my face.

He placed his arm on mine to stop me. “If you are receptive to the idea of modeling again, Grace, I would like to ask if you'd pose for my commission.”

I wasn't sure how I felt about posing again, but if the money
was better than what the pub paid, I was willing to listen. “Do you have an artist in mind?”

“I have commissioned one of the brotherhood artists to paint a very special portrait.”

“A special portrait? And what do you mean by that, Lord Hoffemeyer?”

He took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. “It is for my den, Grace. I have a very private collection, painted by some of the most renowned artists of our time.”

“And you want to include a portrait of me?”

“Yes, very much. Grace, ever since our meeting that night, I have not been able to get the vision of you in that dress out of my mind.”

My cheeks warmed. “Lord Hoffemeyer, pardon me for saying, but you are a very eccentric man.”

He shrugged and took my hand, kissing it. “I have been called worse. Still, when I want something, I do not stop until I get it.” He smiled.

I had seen that look enough times in my life, usually from the shadows of an alleyway with a gent showing me a pouch, fat with coins. “If you don't mind me asking, milord, what is it you want from me, exactly?”

“A portrait, Grace. One with very specific details.”

“Nothing more included in this arrangement?”

“Of course not, Grace. Nothing more than what you are comfortable with.” He tipped his hat slightly.

“These details? What are they?” I asked, still leery, suspecting that this wasn't entirely a coincidence.

He smiled sheepishly. “I want a nude, Grace.”

“A nude?”

“Yes, I know you might find that odd, perhaps, but my collection—”

I stopped him. “You've no need to explain your position, Lord Hoffemeyer.” I needed the money if I was going to be able to find a place big enough for Deidre and me to live for the winter. “A nude portrait?” I asked. “That's all?”

“That's it, my dear.” He patted my arm. “Oh, and I've made arrangements with the artist to split the fee fifty-fifty.”

My eyes widened as I struggled with whether I'd heard him correctly. “Half for me and half for the artist? He agreed to that?”

Lord Hoffemeyer shrugged his burly shoulders. “He seemed fine with the arrangement.”

“You must truly want this portrait.”

“You've no idea what it means to me, Grace. In addition, while the painting is being completed, I don't want you to have to travel so far to the studio each day. So I'm asking you to move into a small flat nearby the studio I've secured.”

“The artist doesn't have his own studio?” I asked, puzzled as to who in the brotherhood wouldn't have his own studio or simply ask Thomas to use his.

“I wanted a place where he wouldn't be disturbed by anyone.”

The man obviously had enough money that he could have his pick of beautiful women to pose for him. Why me? “It seems you've thought this out very carefully, Lord Hoffemeyer. Forgive my curiosity, but what is in this for you?”

He smiled and the sparkle went straight to his deep brown eyes. “Now and again when I'm in town for business, I ask that you might consider letting me take you to dinner, perhaps a show. There are times a man simply enjoys the company of a lady.”

“And Lady Hoffemeyer would not take offense?” I asked.

“My wife and I have an understanding, Grace.”

I nodded. I knew about men and their mistresses. I tipped my head, regarding him. He must have sensed my discomfort as he hurried on.

“Just for companionship, Grace. A friend and nothing more, unless you choose it.”

Though I was hesitant to accept his proposal, the truth was that Deidre would have a warm place to stay and meals provided for her if she was willing to work at the pub a few nights in my stead. And I needed the money. With my reputation of being a model now public knowledge, men were hesitant to be seen with me. I
reasoned that if I felt things were becoming a problem, I could always leave.

I placed my arm through his. “A nude, then?”

“Tastefully done. I assure you.”

“I never doubted it, Lord Hoffemeyer,” I replied.

“May I buy you a drink to celebrate our agreement, Grace?”

“I'd be delighted.”

 

Deidre was thrilled to have a warm bed and I introduced her to Barnaby, the pub manager, who started her immediately on serving tables. “You'll call me if you need anything,” I said as I hugged her close.

“Don't you worry 'bout me, Grace. I can handle meself.” She waved as the carriage Lord Hoffemeyer had sent for me rambled away.

 

Lord Hoffemeyer insisted on seeing that I was settled into my new apartment before my first day of work. We'd just finished lunch at the apartment, made by the resident cook and housekeeper. The apartment consisted of two bedrooms, a bath with indoor plumbing, a parlor, small kitchen and a pantry. It was filled with furnishings far better than I'd ever had. There was a simple elegance to the flat and I wondered what purpose the nest usually served for Lord Hoffemeyer.

“Do you stay here when in London, Lord Hoffemeyer?” I asked, noting there were indeed two bedrooms. His eyes darted to mine and a smile crept up his face.

“I haven't been here in some time. Lady Hoffemeyer always liked staying here in the past.” He looked around at the mementos on the walls and shelves. “But I want you to feel free to make it your own.”

He dabbed his napkin to his mouth. “Now, Grace, about your hair. I want it wrapped around your head.” He pushed from his chair and stood behind me, working his hands in my hair until it was loosely piled on top of my head.

“I want it exactly as you wore it that night. Wound up around your head like a halo.” His hands rested on my shoulders.

“Oh, Baron, surely you have the wrong woman.” I laughed.

He chuckled and squeezed my shoulders. “Oh, no, Grace. I have found the only woman who can give me what I want.”

I touched my napkin to my mouth and turned to look up at him.

“Are you certain that we've not met before that night at the opera?”

He sat back in his chair and lifted his water glass. “I am quite sure you'd have remembered a big oaf like me.”

“You are not a big oaf, milord. I find you more of a snuggly bear,” I teased good-naturedly. A man of his power and wealth would be good to have on my side, and besides, he and the baroness were friends of Thomas's.

He held his glass up by way of a toast and smiled. “You flatter me, Grace. I am humbled you think of me in such kind terms. I want us to be friends.” He regarded me for a moment. “I trust you have everything you need. If not, ask the cook or the driver and they will see to your needs.”

“You're not going with me tomorrow to the studio?” I asked.

“Unfortunately I have some business out of town to attend to. I will, however, notify you when I am back in London.”

He rose and kissed my cheek before summoning the driver to take him to meet his ship. I admit it was an odd arrangement, but he had kept his word thus far, with no surprises or uncomfortable requests. I looked around the room and took a deep breath. I needed to get a good night's sleep, so I would look favorable for the first day of my new job.

 

I was appointed a personal driver and hansom coach. Both were waiting when I emerged from the flat the next morning, prepared to walk the distance. The driver said it was going to rain and said that I should ride, instead.

“Thank you…what shall I call you?” I asked, taking his hand. I was not used to this kind of attentiveness.

“The name's Dobbs, miss. I'll wait for you until you're finished with the studio, as Lord Hoffemeyer has insisted.” He bowed. I stared at the man for a moment, wondering when I would awaken from this dream.

There was no one in the hotel-room-turned-studio when I arrived, but there was a note from Lord Hoffemeyer, lying on a lovely deep-rose-colored fainting couch. I sat down and opened the note.