Leah couldn’t fault James for his dedication to his craft. He worked long hours at the office, then returned home each night and continued with making his sketches from memory. She had stood and watched with pride as he and two burly footmen had moved the canvasses into place in the main drawing room upstairs.
James’s beloved Derbyshire Twins were ready to be born.
She was interested in his landscapes, but at this moment she was more concerned with him. His brown hair was ruffled. If she knew James, it would be from having had his hands pushed through his locks as he worked the ledgers. She had seen him do it many times while standing, concentrating at his painting.
She sighed. He was lovely. Her warm, slightly scruffy husband made her all a silly mess inside.
He looked up, smiling when his gaze met hers.
“A penny for your thoughts?” he said.
Leah rose from her chair and came around to where James sat. Pushing his plate of supper to one side, she sat on the table in front of him. He moved the rest of his cutlery and wine glass out of the way.
He lay against her breasts as she rested her head on top of his, gently rubbing the back of his neck.
“I could tell you what I was thinking, but I’m sure you would prefer for me to show you. That’s, of course, if you have time for me,” she purred.
He lifted his head and whispered, “I will always have time for you, my love.”
The fierce desire in his voice was all the encouragement she needed. Lying back on the table, she untied the laces of her gown as James pushed her skirts up around her waist. A soft gasp escaped her lips as he set his tongue to her heated sex.
She would never get enough of this man.
Chapter Forty-Five
Leah hadn’t realized how far paint fumes could travel. Even with having the windows of the upstairs drawing room open while James worked, the smell of paint and oil permeated throughout the house. At supper the previous evening, she could have sworn she could taste it in her food. James’s assurance that she would get used to it was of little comfort.
“I need the space in which to paint the bigger pieces. They are what will bring in the money that we need and help me to gain a reputation with future patrons.” Her husband’s words and the kiss that came with them quietened Leah’s complaint.
It would take them time to adjust to the reality of being married and back in London. She just had to learn to be patient.
Money was tight. Hugh Radley had gifted them the house and servants for a year, but there were still other bills to be paid. The four days a week that James was working at his uncle’s shipping office brought in some coin but left him grumpy and frustrated that he was not able to devote his entire time to his artistic endeavors.
“I am sorry. I know I shouldn’t complain,” she said.
They were dressing early one morning a few days after James had begun to paint the Derbyshire Twins. Their bedroom was on the other side of the staircase to the drawing room, but even at this distance Leah could smell the paint fumes.
James took her into his arms, gently rubbing his hand up and down her back. They both knew why she was out of sorts, and the paint fumes were only partly to blame. With her mother and sister coming to pay their first house call today, they both knew Leah would be held to close scrutiny for how she kept her home.
“Finish dressing and then go for a walk. I always find that a stroll brings my nerves under control,” said James.
She had hoped he would offer to take her back to bed and use his fingers and tongue to calm her worried mind. But James had work today, and she couldn’t keep him from the one source of income they currently had.
“I shall do one last look around the house and make sure everything is ready for our visitors. Did you tidy your studio before you finished up last night?” she asked.
He screwed up his face. “No, sorry, I didn’t, and I don’t have time to do it this morning before I leave for work. Could you please explain to your mother and sister that it is a workspace, and that they are not always neat and tidy places? I promise to clean it up when I get home,” he replied.
James was always leaving things in the place where he had finished with them rather than putting them back where they belonged. Leah was not used to living in anything other than an immaculately tidy and clean house. Her parents did not tolerate things being out of place.
“If I get time this morning, I will tidy things up as best I can in your studio. If not, I shall just keep the door closed,” she said.
He placed a tender kiss on her lips before releasing her from his embrace. “Thank you. I know I am a messy person. I hope you love me enough to forgive my faults,” he replied.
She couldn’t stay mad with him when he gave her one of his wicked smiles. She reached up on her toes and gave him another kiss. “Of course, I love you. But don’t you dare pass on your bad habits to our future children,” she replied.
After collecting his hat and coat, James stole a final kiss before leaving the house. Leah went about checking with the servants to make sure everything was in readiness for her guests.
Her mother and sister arrived in the early afternoon, and from the moment they set foot inside the front door, the visit went badly. The stern look which sat constantly on Mrs. Shepherd’s face was not the least encouraging. It was almost as if she had decided that the visit called for her to be more miserable than usual. Leah secretly worried that she had been instructed to behave in such a manner. Nothing that her parents did would surprise her.
“What a small house, and so close to the poor people. Your marriage is already the result of a shocking scandal, so I would have thought your husband would be trying to make things better for you. Whatever was he thinking, taking this place?” sneered Mrs. Shepherd.
Leah’s sister stood silently beside their mother, her gaze roaming the front entrance. She at least had managed a small smile in Leah’s direction upon their arrival.
After a short tour of the lower floor, Leah showed her guests upstairs to the formal sitting room. As they went to sit down, her mother stopped and sniffed the air. “Do you have workhouses nearby? Because I am sure I can smell them.”
There were some workshops and a blacksmith in one of the nearby streets, but Leah knew where the smell emanated from. It came from within the house.
“My husband is working to establish himself as a painter of landscapes. The paint fumes are a little strong throughout the house this morning. I shall go and open a window,” she replied.
She hurried from the room and opened the door of the main drawing room which James had commandeered for his work. The smell of the drying paint and linseed oil was strong. Oil-soaked rags lay flat on the floor. She stepped over several of them on her way to the window.
“Leah, what have you got yourself into? What a mess. And the smell. I knew your good sense had deserted you when you fled the wedding, but to settle for this as your future is utterly ridiculous.”
She turned to see her mother standing in the doorway, hands on hips. The look of disgust on Mrs. Shepherd’s face at the sight before her was heartbreaking. Leah’s family would never support her marriage to James.
“James didn’t have time to tidy up last night. He worked until the early hours,” she said, at pains to reassure her mother that all was not lost when it came to her youngest daughter.
“That is beside the point. Not only have you allowed this reckless man to paint inside the house, but you gave up the main drawing room. There must be a garden shed or an out-of-the-way attic that he can use. It is intolerable that a young woman of your birth should have to put up with this sort of nonsense. I thought he was going to go into the church and secure a proper living. Not this childish . . . whatever you call it. Art,” huffed Mrs. Shepherd.
Leah looked at the mess in the room. Her mother had a point. There were canvases, rags, and discarded pieces of sketch paper all over the floor.
She wiped away a tear. “Would you like s
ome tea? Our cook has baked a fruitcake,” she offered.
“No, I don’t think we shall stay. The smell in this room has already given me a headache. I don’t know how you can live like this, Leah. Get your husband to clean up his mess and have it moved elsewhere. You are the lady of the house, and he should know his place.”
She followed her mother out onto the landing, where her sister stood waiting. With a nod, Mrs. Shepherd headed for the stairs. Her sister mouthed a “sorry” and trailed behind.
At the bottom of the stairs, her mother turned and announced loudly. “This house and its mistress are not fit for polite society. I shall inform all the best hostesses not to extend any invitations to you, Leah, until you have learned from your mistakes.”
The sound of the front door being slammed echoed throughout the house.
Leah quietly closed the door to James’s studio and went back into the sitting room. The maid had brought cake and a pot of tea upstairs while she had been gone and they were sitting in the middle of the low table which sat between the floral sofas. She poured herself a cup of tea.
It would have been easy to simply sit and have a good cry. A moment of self-pity could be well worth it. But she resisted the temptation. Tears would give her nothing but a red nose and flushed cheeks. Her private hopes for a pleasant ‘at home’ with her mother and sister had fortunately not been high; and her mother had not disappointed her.
She considered her mother’s harsh words and wished that there was not an ounce of truth in them. But her mother was right about the drawing room; she was also right about the paint fumes. Picking up the knife from the tea tray, Leah carved off an inelegant chunk of the fruit cake and stuffed it into her mouth.
The scandal over hers and James’s marriage meant that Leah had a tough task ahead of her to prove that she could be a respectable society wife. That task would be made nigh on impossible if people thought her house stank. No one would want to come for tea if they thought they were going to leave her house with a headache. There was only one solution.
James’s paintings had to go.
Chapter Forty-Six
James had lived with women all his life, so he knew when one of them was in a bad mood. Even in his tired state, he could tell from the moment he set eyes on her that Leah wasn’t happy.
It was the end of a long, tiring day, and he ached all over. He and Francis had spent hours moving crates of wine from a recently arrived shipment. The stairs at Saunders Shipping were steep and his back was still twinging from lugging the heavy boxes. While his official job was to work the ledgers, whenever the office was shorthanded, everyone was press-ganged into service.
All he wanted to do as soon as he got home was to kiss his wife and find his supper. He was exhausted. But he knew once he had eaten, he had at least three hours of painting ahead of him before he finally found the blessed relief of his and Leah’s bed.
His first attempt at kissing Leah was rebuffed. She turned her head away and his kiss landed awkwardly on the side of her neck. When he made a second attempt, she pushed him aside.
“My love?”
“Don’t you ‘my love’ me—today has been an unmitigated disaster,” she replied.
He had been about to enquire as to how the visit with her mother and sister had gone, but here he had his answer. He waited, unsure of what to say, or whether he should say anything. From the look on Leah’s face, he had a horrible feeling that no matter what he said he was going to be on the receiving end of a good ticking-off from his wife.
“Are you going to ask me how the visit with my mother and sister went, or do you not care?” she said.
James had seen his father and mother conduct an argument enough times to know that the best thing he could do at this moment was to accept whatever punishment was coming his way. He held out a hand to her, and after giving him a filthy look, Leah took it.
“Tell me how things went with your mother, and what I can do to make you happy,” he said, pulling her into his arms.
“She said the house was a mess. She refused to stay for tea and cake because she claimed that the house stank so much it gave her a headache. She said it was my fault for letting you take over the drawing room. And worst of all, she was right.”
He met her gaze. “I said I would try and keep the studio tidier, and I will, I promise. Apart from opening a window or two, there is not much I can do about the smell of the paint. You know I have to work somewhere.”
His painting was his path to a real career, his life’s passion. The work had to be completed.
The hard set of her jaw did not soften at his words. Instead, she pursed her lips and began to slowly shake her head. The word no was written all over her face.
“You need to move your paintings out of the house. There is a wooden shed in the garden which you can use. It will be just like using the cottage at Mopus Manor. I checked it this afternoon. It will hold the two main pieces you are working on, along with the rest of your finished paintings. All your other clean canvasses and dry paint can be stored downstairs in the house,” she said.
“No. I need the light and space of the drawing room,” he replied, adamant in his resolve.
“And I need the drawing room. How do you expect me to establish myself as a respectable married woman if I cannot entertain at home?” she replied.
He released Leah’s hand and started to walk away. He was hungry and tired. There was no point in continuing the argument.
He turned his back on her, and immediately knew he had made a grave mistake.
“Don’t you turn your back on me, James Radley! We are not finished!” bellowed Leah.
He sighed. “Leah, my love. I have had the devil of a day. We can talk about this tomorrow.”
She grabbed a hold of his jacket sleeve. “We will talk about this now, or you can go and sleep in the other room tonight.”
If there was one thing James did not take kindly to, it was threats of any kind. He could accept that Leah was angry, and he was out of sorts with her at this very moment, but her telling him that they would be sleeping apart was not something he would tolerate.
“I am not moving my paintings out of the house. I have to work on the Derbyshire Twins in the drawing room. If I work in the garden shed, it will be cramped and cold. It is nothing like the cottage in Cornwall; it doesn’t get any real sunlight,” he replied.
Her eyes were ablaze with rage.
“You need to move them,” she said.
He understood why she was angry; she had been humiliated by her mother. Her family were rejecting their marriage, and her father was taking his time with handing over her dowry. But moving his paintings out of the house would not solve any of those problems. And even if he did, he was certain that her mother would find another way to make Leah feel unworthy.
From the look of grim determination on her face, he could tell Leah was not about to change her mind. Whether she realized it or not, she had found every single one of his pain points and then pushed hard on them. His simmering anger boiled over.
James threw up his hands.
“Alright! I will move them. But if I catch my death of cold from working out in the garden all day, you only have yourself to blame. I hope you will enjoy your penniless widowhood. If I had known you would resent my chosen calling, then I would have had second thoughts in offering to marry you. Perhaps I should have dragged you back to the church and had you marry Guy. At least his fancy house does not smell of paint!”
His words were spoken in anger, and even as he said them, he regretted it.
Tears shone in her eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize.
“Perhaps I should go back to my parents’ house. At least there I wouldn’t be a complete outcast,” she said.
James shook his head. How had a simple disagreement turned to such a furious battle? Leah was using every weapon at her disposal to hurt him.
“You don’t mean that,” he said.
“No? Well if I see
any of those stinking paintings anywhere near the house after tonight, I shall burn the bloody lot of them. And you are not the only one who is regretting this marriage. At least with Guy I wouldn’t be having to watch every farthing,” she bit back.
He leaned in close. Mere inches separated their faces. “No, you would just be his whore.” James brushed Leah’s hand away from his jacket and stormed out of the room. He marched into the drawing room and slammed the door loudly behind him.
Chapter Forty-Seven
James was good to his word. While Leah sat in the sitting room steaming over their row, he moved all of his paintings out of the house and into the garden shed. When she retired to bed that evening, he was still moving the last of his things. Leah waited for him to come to bed, but when her eyes finally closed in sleep, James had still not appeared.
Leah woke the next morning to see that James hadn’t slept on his side of the mattress, and he was already gone from the house. She lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling. There would be time later that day for her and James to speak and apologize to one another. She was certain that her husband would eventually come around and see that she had been right.
After breakfast, Leah ventured into the now empty drawing room. She walked around for a time, imagining where various pieces of household furniture could be placed. There was a rug in one of the other bedrooms which would go nicely in the drawing room—its rusted red shade matched the color of the curtains.
With the smell of paint and linseed oil now slowly leaving the house, it would only be a few days before she could consider hosting guests in the house. Her first visitors would be her mother and sister once more. She would show her mother that she was taking her role as lady of the house seriously. It pained her to crave her mother’s approval.
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