Page 83 of The Quiet Wife
Prinsep cast him a faux innocent look, eyebrows raised, and although he considered himself to be a man of the world, Jemie was so surprised he almost resorted to his monocle. He fixed Prinsep with a look. “Am I to take it you intend paying court to one of the misses Leyland?”
Prinsep pursed his lips and shrugged lightly. “Perhaps.”
Jemie knew Frances was planning a season for Fannie and Florence, but they were barely out of the schoolroom, and he suddenly felt rather protective of the girls he’d grown fond of.
“Might I be so bold as to enquire which lady has piqued your interest?” Jemie was wracking his brains, trying to work out if Prinsep paid particular attention to any of the girls.
“I’m not saying I’m ready to make any announcements, or advance my suit, so for God’s sake say nothing to her father, but it occurred to me that Miss Florence would make a charming wife,” Prinsep explained. “She’s terribly young and I’m far too old for her. She is, however, quite delightful. Perhaps in the future, when she’s a little older?”
Prinsep was only a few years younger than he was, and he was almost as old as Leyland – Florence’s father. He knew full well a lot of men had a taste for young brides, but if he ever settled down, he would need it to be someone he could have a sensible, rational, adult conversation with.
He wondered how Frances would feel about such a match. Prinsep was a good man, and a talented artist, but how ambitious would Leyland be for his girls? He imagined he would be seeking a title. He wondered how Florence herself might feel about Prinsep being considerably older.
“And here comes the lovely mother and father of the bride to be,” Rossetti teased, puffing out his chest and holding onto one lapel.
“I’ll thank you to keep your retorts to yourself,” Prinsep murmured. Rossetti just chuckled.
Jemie glanced over at Leyland. He seemed purposeful as he headed in his direction.
Frances trailed behind him, arm in arm with Lizzie. As ever, outwardly, Frances seemed calm, composed, and the very epitome of the wife of a successful and influential man. But there was something about the tightness around her eyes and tension along her elegant jaw that suggested to him all was not well.
Leyland barely observed the niceties before taking his arm.
“I’d like a word,” he said in a low voice.
“Now?” Jemie glanced at Frances, who looked mortified at her husband’s actions. Lizzie flirted gently with Rossetti and Prinsep but kept a close eye on her sister. His heart thumped in his chest as he wondered what Leyland could want. What might make him appear so… angry? He and Frances had spent a good deal of time together, but Leyland barely noticed. There had been that kiss and things since had been… he didn’t know what they’d been, but things had changed between them, but he thought they’d been discreet enough.
“What is it?” Jemie braced himself as he followed Leyland to a quiet corner.
Leyland leaned closer and murmured, “Jeckyll has cracked. He can’t continue with the work.”
A strong sense of relief flooded Jemie, although he had absolutely nothing to feel guilty about. Well, almost nothing.
“Ah, I see. What happened?” he asked, not at all surprised.
Leyland seemed fit to burst. “He locked himself in the pantry and refused to come out.” Leyland shook his head. “I was told he was unreliable.Youtold me to take care. I should have damned well listened.”
Jemie bit his lip and nodded. He should indeed. He’d thought all along he should have had the commission for the dining room. However, he plastered a sympathetic expression on his face. “What a shame. He’s a good man… when he’s well.” He added deliberately.
“Have you almost finished the hallway? I want you to take over.”
The vindication was… gratifying. “I’ve made excellent progress with the staircase panels. I was at the house a week or two back with your wife and her sister. It did appear that Jeckyll had a long way to go in the dining room.”
Leyland growled. “There is a long way to go. Can you do it?”
Jemie sighed. “Well, I have other commissions. I might be able to delay them and take it on.”
“Then delay them.” It clearly wasn’t a request.
“How much?” There was no point beating about the bush because Leyland was a businessman about the bottom line.
Leyland’s eyes narrowed. “Two thousand guineas, but I want it done fast.”
Jemie swallowed. For two thousand guineas, he could have it tomorrow. On top of the money for the two portraits and the sketches, this was shaping up to be a deeply significant commission and one that had the potential to attract other significant patrons.
He pretended to consider,and then, with a sigh, he nodded. “I’ll give it everything I have. Do you want to discuss it? I’d like to make some changes,” he warned. “I think some of Jeckyll’s ideas are wrong.”
“Do what you want. Just finish the damned thing,” Leyland commanded.
