Page 26 of The Untamed Heart

“Well enough. What are you about?”

The duke frowned at the waiting dog cart, piled high with the spoils of Marcus’s efforts that morning.

Marcus hesitated, a little embarrassed at having to explain himself. He’d not intended for anyone to know that he was gardening for Miss Foxworthy, least of all Hawkney.

“Eus—Miss Foxworthy’s garden is in a shocking state. Shed falling to bits. Tools needing repair. Well, I’m there every day and it’s not like I’ve anything to do. The doctor said, fresh air. Well, two birds, one stone,” he replied, rather defiantly.

Hawkney regarded him with an impassive expression. “Eustacia, is it?”

Marcus stiffened. “It seemed foolish to use such formality when—”

“At ease, old man, at ease,” Hawkney said with a laugh. “It seems an admirable idea. You always did love gardening, as I remember. Physical activity, fresh air and something you enjoy. Yes, yes, a splendid arrangement.”

Marcus scowled, finding he disliked Hawkney’s approval. The wretched fellow sounded as if he’d have prescribed the very thing if he’d only realised Miss Foxworthy’s garden needed the attention. “When did you get back, anyway?”

“Yesterday afternoon. I was just on my way to see you. Lucius has gone to Horse Guards to investigate.”

“God help Horse Guards,” Marcus replied darkly.

“I believe the almighty will be busy enough keeping Sheringham from throwing himself in the Thames.”

Marcus returned a questioning look.

“He’s gone with him,” Hawkney said, smirking.

“Is he mad?”

“Not currently,” Hawkney chuckled. “But give it time. I’ll keep you posted if I hear anything.”

With that he turned Sultan and rode away.

Marcus shook his head, wondering what manner of maggot had got into Sherry’s brain. The fellow always had a dark sense of humour and a dreadful instinct for getting into trouble but having Lucius and Sherry in the same room—well, it boggled the mind. And they were supposed to be helping him!

“I’m doomed,” he said with a sigh.

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

Eustacia ran to the window as she heard the sound of hoofbeats, a little surprised to see Marcus riding beside a loaded dog cart. She peered down and smiled as she saw what the cart contained.

“Oh, drat you, Marcus,” she murmured.

Not only had he spent his own money on everything he needed to repair the shed—likely the gate, the tools, and probably the house too—but now he’d be itching to get started, and she needed to paint him.

Glancing hurriedly at the looking glass to check her hair was not too wildly out of control, as was its usual state, she hastened down the stairs and out of the front door.

“What’s all this?” she demanded, arms folded as he dismounted beside the cart.

Though she tried to ignore it, she could not quite deny the little thrill of pleasure the sight of him gave her, the power of that lean body as he dismounted. He looked better than he had since she’d met him. Yesterday he’d been tired, but he looked well rested now, and she suspected the physical activity had meant he’d slept well. She hoped so.

“The things I need to repair the shed door I broke,” he said before turning to the fellow driving the cart. “Thanks, Jo. If you and Burt could carry the stuff around the back. Yes, the garden is that way. Go through the iron gate into the kitchen garden.”

The two men tugged their caps and set about their work.

“You know very well that the door was rotten, and you had no hand in breaking it,” she said severely. “I demand you tell me how much you have spent on all this… this stuff!”

“Did your mother never tell you it is unladylike to speak of money?” he said, glowering at her, though she felt he was not the least bit cross.

Eustacia snorted. “If my mother had any money, she spent it on paint, and she had no trouble whatsoever speaking of it.”