The Artist's Muse

Fix the Broken

It would appear that Mister Thyne truly was only interested in serious artists attending his sessions given the amount of unhappy women at the latest ball. While some were desperate to have his name added to their dance card, others quite literally turned their backs to him when he drew near. None of it phased Mister Thyne. It is simply their loss...

LADY WHISTLEDOWN'S SOCIETY PAPERS, 1 AUGUST 1815

x.x.x

Benedict stepped out of the gentlemen's club, straightening his jacket as the summer wind whipped at it. He had just left his mates in the club, but he had no other plans for the afternoon. He'd simply needed to get away from their drab conversation. Truly, Benedict was unsure why he still agreed to see them from time to time. He never left feeling cheerful. It felt more like a task he had to cross off his list for the day.

As Benedict began to walk down the sidewalk, he heard someone shout his name from across the street. He glanced over, his breath catching at the sight of the man's light brown hair. Benedict took a deep breath to steady himself as Lander weaved his way across the busy street.

When he reached Benedict, he smiled widely. "I apologize for shouting, but I wanted to catch you before you vanished. I'm attending a painting session tomorrow night that I wish for you to join me at. I understand we haven't had our first session privately together yet, but I believe this will suit you quite well given what I've already seen from you."

Benedict stared at him in bewilderment. For days, he had been waging a mental war to keep Lander from occupying his every thought when they had spent so little time together. Now, Lander was standing before him and asking if Benedict would be interested in spending time with him. It was sure to be meant in a professional manner, but Benedict's mind was swirling too much to allow that fact to take hold.

"I would love to," Benedict finally managed to squeak out.

Lander's smile broadened if it were even possible. He clasped Benedict's shoulder, sending fire shooting down Benedict's arm. "Lovely!" He dug in his pocket and pressed a piece of parchment into Benedict's hand. "Here is the information. I will meet you there!"

Benedict was unable to formulate a response before Lander had disappeared into the sea of people on the other side of the road.

Benedict looked down at the parchment, reading the carefully written words. Lander Thyne was a man of mystery. A man who, secretly, Benedict could not wait to learn more about.

He tucked the parchment carefully into his pocket and started home, feeling much lighter than he had just moments before.

x.x.x

Benedict fidgeted with his clothes as he approached the worn brick building that matched the address on the parchment he carefully held in his hand. No matter how much he attempted to banish the nervous thoughts racing through his mind, he was unable to. Lander Thyne had taken a hold on his mind whether Benedict wished for it or not. If Lander were a female, Benedict would have never tried to banish her from his mind. He would have continuously called on her, but Lander was not a female nor would he be. Benedict was simply going to have to discover a way to keep the brewing feelings away. No one could even suspect the thoughts that were in his head.

When Benedict stepped into the building, he was directed to the basement where he found a dozen or more people scattered about, the only light coming from candles lit in the center of each wall in the room and the center of the room where a platform stood. On it sat a woman in a sheer robe, primping her hair as the artist hosting the event instructed her on how to pose.