Page 30 of The Untamed Heart

Seagull Heights, Little Valentine, East Sussex, 23rd September 1816

Eustacia’s hand flew across the canvas as she began laying out her composition.

She had seen examples of the stuffy, staged portraits that military men usually had done. Last year’s Royal Academy exhibition had unveiled a portrait of Wellington by Thomas Lawrence. It was a marvellous piece of work, showing the great man standing beneath a triumphal Roman arch, holding aloft the sword of state. In the background, you could see a thanksgiving victory procession heading towards St Paul’s Cathedral. As an artwork, it was magnificent, and yet Eustacia had felt the duke appeared somewhat ill at ease in the portrait. Certainly, she had felt no sense of the man himself, only of the victory.

There were many others of less vaunted figures, usually done as a simple head and shoulders, often with the sitter holding his dress shako, the soft plume of feathers a pleasing contrast to the rather harsh, bright uniform.

Marcus deserved more than that, and yet she knew he would be repulsed by anything along the lines of the Lawrence epic. She did not doubt Horse Guards would be dismayed by her work, perhaps they might even refuse to show it, but that was their problem. Marcus had chosen her himself, not them, and she would give him what he wanted, what he needed to see, for he deserved more than a painted legend.

She had known the spade would concern him, the pot too, but she had her vision clear in her mind now and instinctively knew she was on the right track. He would see it too once she was done.

Pausing, she watched him with a smile curving her lips. He had completely forgotten about her, entirely engrossed in the story. Sebastian, who had a remarkable gift for comedy, must have written something amusing, for Marcus chuckled and turned the page eagerly. It was such a boyish, interested look that Eustacia felt she had glimpsed the lad he had been, the child his grandfather had loved and tried to protect.

That side of him, the gentle, nurturing, and light-hearted soul, was still in there. War had damaged him, had given him hard edges and weathered all his softer instincts, but it had not destroyed them. She meant to show that, to show the man he was now. Not just a hero, for he was so much more than the title that felt so empty to him, no matter if he deserved it.

Eustacia was so intent upon her work that she did not hear Sebastian’s familiar tread upon the stairs and jumped with surprise as he entered the room.

“Good afternoon, sis,” he called affectionately, and then paused as he realised she was working, looking from her to Marcus. “Oh, damn me. Sorry, Stacy, I—I say, is that my manuscript?”

Marcus had stood, the manuscript in hand, looking horribly dismayed at being caught reading it. Eustacia hurried from behind the painting.

“Oh, Seb, I gave it to him, for I knew you wouldn’t mind. Marcus is such an admirer of your work, he’s read everything you know.”

He glared at her in consternation. “You told him! Stacy, for the love of God, what I have said, over and over—”

“Oh, do stop making a fuss,” she said crossly. “You must stop hiding, but in any case, I have sworn Marcus to secrecy. He is a man of honour and would never betray you under pain of death. Do be reasonable.”

There was a significant pause, and Eustacia held her breath.

“Marcus?” Sebastian repeated, quirking an eyebrow.

“Don’t be tedious, love,” Eustacia said impatiently, relieved that he was back to his usual teasing ways and had not taken a pet. One could never tell with Sebastian. He’d take great disasters in stride and then pitch a fit over something remarkably trivial.

To her relief, Seb shrugged. “Well, there’s no use weeping over spilt milk. Have you really read my work?” he asked Marcus, regarding him dubiously.

Marcus still looked ill at ease, but he nodded.

“Yes, without knowing your complete works I cannot say for certain I have read them all, but certainly I have read everything I could lay my hands upon.”

Eustacia rolled her eyes with frustration, for Sebastian still looked somewhat sceptical. “Why?”

Marcus appeared taken aback. “Why? Because they’re marvellous. As I told your sister, I credit you and your work with the fact that I’m still here and did not shrivel up and die. During my recovery, I often wished to, I assure you, but your stories, your wonderful stories gave me an escape. You gave me hours of freedom, away from real life, and I shall ever be grateful for that.”

Eustacia’s throat tightened, both at the sincerity of Marcus’s words, so earnest and honest, and at the effect upon her brother. His colour rose, and he gazed at Marcus in such a way Eustacia wasn’t certain what he would say, but he looked gratified and mortified in equal measure.

“I don’t understand how a man like you… a man who has fought for his country, shed blood, who has lived a life of such… such adventure, can speak with such passion about my trivial scribbling,” Sebastian said gruffly, obviously in awe.

Marcus stiffened, rigid with indignation. “There was nothing trivial about them to me, and what did I do other than follow another man’s orders? You do not get to decide what is important to another person and what is insignificant. You may dismiss your work in such a way, but I shall not. Your words saved my life, sir. That means something to me, at least, if not to you.”

Eustacia watched Marcus with her heart beating too hard, too fast. He looked every inch the soldier, stiff with dignity, determined to fight his position to his last breath. She wanted to kiss him.

Sebastian frowned and ran a hand through his hair. It was in need of cutting and messy from being out of doors, the contrast striking against Marcus’s short, military style.

“I don’t know what to say,” he said with an awkward laugh. “It’s not like I play at it. I take the work seriously, but I… well, it’s not The Decline and the Fall of Roman Empire, is it?”

“And thank God for that,” Marcus said fervently. “If that had been all I’d had to hand I’d have opened a vein and had done with it.”

Sebastian gave a startled laugh, and Marcus grinned ruefully.