Page 2 of The Untamed Heart

Eustacia turned to glower at Sebastian, who had slumped back against the pillows. “He’s a military man, one with very precise notions about punctuality, unless I miss my guess. Something is wrong.”

“Perhaps he changed his mind.”

Eustacia nodded, disappointment chasing away the bubbling excitement that had woken her at dawn. “Yes, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Did you send Neil with the gig for him?”

Eustacia snorted and turned her attention back to the road. “No, I did not, though I offered. The look he gave me would have done Medusa proud. He said he would hire a horse. Oh, what’s this?” she exclaimed as she saw the weary post boy trudging up the hill.

Running from the room, she ignored Sebastian’s shouts of protest when she forgot to close the door behind her. It was time he got up, anyway. She had been up for hours, jittery with impatience to begin work on a project that promised to be the most challenging she’d ever undertaken.

Eustacia opened the front door to find the post boy, red-faced and breathless, leaning against the wall of the house.

“Give us a minute,” he gasped, swiping off his cap and wiping his face on his arm. “That bleedin’ hill is going to do for me one day.”

Eustacia smiled at the cheeky fellow. He was a bright, rather endearing lad, relocated from the slums of the Seven Dials by Mr King, who had found him work.

Eustacia handed him the fee. “And a bit extra for your trouble, Billy,” she said with a smile as he offered her the letter in return. “If you go around to the kitchen, Mrs Wainwright will give you a drink and something to eat to give you the strength to make it back down again.”

“Cor, lovely. Thank you, miss,” he said, brightening at once and hurrying off towards the back of the house.

Eustacia closed the door, staring down at the slanting handwriting with misgiving.

“Oh, you wretched man,” she said with a sigh, and broke the seal.

The Promenade, Little Valentine, East Sussex, 21stSeptember 1816

Eustacia stepped down from the gig, turning back to Neil. “If I’m not waiting by the time you’ve finished the grocery shopping, go back without me. I’ll walk.”

Neil, a skinny, quiet boy who was the son of their housekeeper, Mrs Wainwright, nodded his understanding. “Yes, Miss Eustacia,” he said politely before getting the pony trotting along once more.

Eustacia turned and stared at the small, terraced house with its brightly painted front door, and gathered her courage. The terse note of apology was far from enough to explain what had made the stubborn man change his mind about their sitting. Whilst he hadn’t actually cancelled the portrait, Eustacia had the creeping suspicion that he would do so if she did not put his fears at rest. Though precisely how she was to do this, she hadn’t the faintest idea.

Hurrying towards the front door with an air of confident determination she was far from feeling, she started in surprise as she saw two men moving in the same direction.

“Miss Foxworthy, good morning.”

Eustacia returned a less than elegant curtsey. “Your grace,” she said politely, momentarily arrested by the handsome fellow beside him. Elegant and exquisitely fashionable, he had the languid air of a charming villain. This seemed unlikely, as he was obviously an intimate of the Duke of Hawkney, but his shrewd grey eyes glinted with amusement. What an interesting subject for a portrait he would make.

“Oh, forgive me. Sheringham, of course you remember Miss Foxworthy from the viewing of her fine portrait, but I do not believe you were introduced. Miss Foxworthy, allow me to present the Earl of Sheringham.”

“My lord,” she said, giving another less than pretty curtsey, rather impatient with all the chit-chat when she merely wanted to find out why Colonel Hamilton had failed to appear as arranged. “Are you also calling on the colonel?”

“Yes, we received a summons demanding our attention, and I gather you are here because he did not arrive as promised for his sitting,” Hawkney said, obviously as curious as she was to know why. “Well, shall we?”

He gestured to the front door, allowing Eustacia to go ahead of them. She gave three impatient raps with the knocker, and a bare moment later the door swung open.

Colonel Hamilton looked at the congregation upon his doorstep, his gaze settling upon Eustacia with an expression of resignation. “I might have known,” he said darkly. “You’d best come in.”

The three of them filed inside, following the colonel into a small but charming parlour, which instantly felt thoroughly overstuffed with the presence of the three men and Eustacia. They waited whilst Eustacia sat. She did so, smoothing her skirts with nervous hands, suddenly rather out of her depth as she realised from the familiarity of their greetings that the men knew each other well.

Sheringham took the best place by the fire, smiling smugly at Hawkney as he arranged himself in an elegant sprawl upon the comfortable armchair. Hawkney rolled his eyes and stood before the fireplace, his attention fixed upon the colonel, who looked exceedingly ill at ease.

“Well, Marcus, what dire emergency had you demanding we present ourselves here? I presume it is of a delicate nature, which is why you did not come to the hall. You realise my grandmother’s servants are the soul of discretion?”

The colonel glowered at Hawkney. “Your notion of discretion and mine may not be the same thing.”

Eustacia, realising some private disaster had befallen the man, got to her feet. “Forgive me. When you cancelled our sitting this morning, I assumed—well, I thought you had simply got cold feet, but I see there is something truly amiss which is none of my affair. I shall leave you gentlemen in peace.”