Page 67 of The Untamed Heart

Neil glowed at the praise and stood a little taller. “Well, he didn’t like that, and his lip curled, looking at me like I crawled out of cheese. He called me a damned little puppy.”

“Language!” Mrs Wainwright said, glaring at him.

“It weren’t what I said. He said it,” Neil retorted indignantly. “But I didn’t come home right away. I sort of hung about in case he tried to follow me. He slunk away after a bit, and so I ran to the hall and left a message for the duke, then I kept looking over my shoulder all the way back here. I didn’t see him.”

Whilst he could have done without the lad informing Hawkney, for he did not doubt his grace would be upon the doorstep at any moment, he could not fault Neil’s actions. He crossed the floor and stood before the lad, resting his hand on the boy’s skinny shoulder.

“You would have made a fine soldier, Neil. You showed presence of mind and bravery. Well done, lad.”

Mrs Wainwright nodded and ruffled his hair. “Proud of you,” she said, her voice somewhat thick.

Neil blushed scarlet but looked exceptionally pleased with himself.

Marcus turned away and clenched his fists as he considered what to do for the best. One thing was certain: he was not about to allow his friends to chaperone him to and from the house daily, waiting for the man to act. If Keller grew impatient, he might do something to draw Marcus out, and he could not allow anyone to be hurt because of him.

He had to present the fellow with an irresistible target. And he had to do it soon.

Turning back, he found all of them watching him, waiting for what he might say.

“Listen to me now, Neil, and this goes for all of you. If you see this man again, you do not engage with him. I want you to ensure the house is always locked up, and none of you go outside without an escort.”

“And what about you?” Eustacia asked, her voice faint. “What will you do?”

“What needs to be done,” Marcus said grimly.

Because that was what he always did.

Chapter 18

An Indecent Proposal

Seagull Heights, Little Valentine, East Sussex, 1st October 1816

It was with relief that Eustacia had ushered the Duke of Hawkney and the two earls, as she had come to think of them, into the best parlour. She was still reeling from the kiss, and from the things Marcus had said, and the way he had gazed at her, as if she was the answer to every question he had ever asked.

Her nerves were leaping, her heart jittery, and she just wanted to tell everyone to go the devil and leave them in peace. But they could have no peace. Not while that wretched man was still at large, and she had the dreadful premonition that Marcus was going to do something rash and brave.

It would take all of them to rein him in before he went and proved he was a bloody hero all over again, but she would not let him risk himself. Not alone. Not under any circumstances.

Picking up her skirts, she hurried back to the parlour, having left it momentarily to help Mrs Wainwright, whose usual calm seemed to have been shattered by her son’s interaction with a murderer.

The familiar action of making tea had soothed the poor woman’s nerves, though, and she assured Eustacia she could manage very well. Yet she kept darting anxious glances at Neil, just to ensure he was close at hand.

Eustacia pushed open the door to the parlour, just as Marcus barked out his refusal to some idea one of the other men had proposed.

“No!”

His irate voice sounded over everyone else’s as she hurried into the room.

“Marcus, please stop acting as though you are alone in this. You are not,” Hawkney said impatiently. The duke stood in front of the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back, looking very much like he was in charge. Eustacia supposed he couldn’t help himself.

“If you think I am going to allow anyone else to put themselves in danger because of me, you are out of your mind,” Marcus said furiously, and Eustacia’s heart went out to him. He already carried so much guilt over all those young men who had not come home after Waterloo. The idea of putting his friends at risk must be insupportable.

“If we do the thing correctly, no one need be in any great danger,” Darenth said, watching Marcus with curiosity. While the other men were tense and angry, he seemed remarkably calm, merely interested by the proceedings. Not exactly cold-blooded, just rather detached.

Marcus shook his head. “I will carry on as usual. I know precisely where he will attack. There is a part of the road between the town and here where the ground is overgrown and much higher than the road itself. It is the perfect place for an ambush. It is where I would strike if the situations were reversed. He will assume he is taking me by surprise, but I shall be ready for him.”

“And what if he simply decides to shoot you in the head?” Sheringham demanded.