Page 65 of The Untamed Heart

“Yes, obviously I did. It was only polite,” Eustacia said as she closed the door.

Marcus sighed and returned a crooked smile. “I’m afraid I’m an ill-tempered brute today.”

“With good reason,” Eustacia said gently, reaching out and resting her hand on his arm. “No one blames you, Marcus. It’s a dreadful situation.”

Marcus’s heart gave an extra little skip behind his ribs. He must speak. He must tell her now. If Keller had his way, he might never get the chance. She went to withdraw her hand, but Marcus covered it with his own. “Eustacia, I—”

“Oh, there you are, Stacy. Did you read those ideas I gave you last night?” Sebastian demanded, hurrying down the stairs.

Marcus dropped his hand and Eustacia snatched hers away like she’d been scalded. “N-No, I didn’t. I’m afraid I couldn’t give them my full attention with everything that happened yesterday,” she said, casting a look at Marcus he could not read.

It was at once worried and hopeful and… and he could not tell. Blast her bloody brother. He’d been an utterly useless chaperone since Marcus had first visited the house, and now he seemed to be everywhere at once. Marcus had tried to have a private word with her before he’d left yesterday, but Sebastian had refused to take Eustacia’s hints that he bugger off.

That she had hinted had given him a good deal of hope yesterday. But he’d spent the entire night reminding himself of all the reasons she might turn him down and this morning his mood had been a less buoyant.

“A pity. I rather wanted your opinion. Still, never mind. I have an intriguing bit of gossip to follow up on.”

“You’re going out?” Eustacia asked, and Marcus thought she looked rather delighted by the notion.

Sebastian grabbed his coat and hat from the stand by the door and nodded. “I am. See you later. I’ll try to be back for Mrs Wainwright’s splendid chicken and ham pie. Her pastry is a thing of beauty.”

With that, he let himself out the front door, and they were suddenly alone again.

Marcus’s heart picked up. He should speak up, say something… but the moment felt all wrong, with the two of them standing in the entrance hall. Besides, what was it he wished to say precisely? He had considered that very subject a great deal of late, but he still had not come up with anything very satisfactory.

Too late he realised he’d been standing stock still, and the silence had become uneasy.

“A pity you aren’t allowed to work in the garden today,” Eustacia said with sympathy.

Marcus grunted. “It’s ridiculous.”

“It is not,” she countered, frowning up at him. “The garden is quite large and relatively secluded. How would we know if this dreadful man sneaked up on you, or aimed a gun at you? We’d know nothing until it was too late.”

She spoke the last words with rather more heat than Marcus might have expected and then she turned, stalking up the stairs in a manner that suggested he had put her out of temper.

“Eustacia,” he called, but she did not stop.

Marcus hurried up after her, following her into the studio to discover she had disappeared behind her canvas.

“Are you… do you wish to paint me this morning?”

“No, no. Sebastian has left you some of his earlier books to read to while the time away. You said there were a couple you’d not read. They’re on his desk in the study. I can work on the background until later.”

Her words were clipped and rather breathless and Marcus wished he knew what he’d said to upset her so. For she was upset. He might not be as adept with women as he had once believed, but he was not a complete idiot.

Uncertain of what to do, he dithered in the middle of room.

Get a grip on yourself, man, he ordered and, taking his courage in hand, marched around to the side of the canvas where he could see her face.

“What the devil is wrong?” he demanded, immediately annoyed with himself when he realised he had barked the demand at her instead of asking gently as he’d intended.

She glared at him and threw down the paintbrush.

“What’s wrong?” she repeated, apparently incensed by the question. “What’s wrong? Oh, really. For an intelligent man, you are… utterly blind!”

Brushing past the canvas on the opposite side, she began pacing the room, muttering, “What’s wrong,” under her breath over and over and with increasing sarcasm.

Marcus watched her cautiously. “I don’t know, Eustacia. That’s why I asked.”