Page 68 of The Untamed Heart

Eustacia gasped, pressing her hand to her heart, and Marcus glared at the man.

“Hold your bloody tongue! Ladies present.”

“You’re the one swearing, but so long as I don’t offend anyone, I’ll just let you get killed and mind my manners,” Sheringham retorted furiously.

“Now look here,” Marcus said, brandishing a finger.

“He won’t shoot Marcus in the head, that’s too simple. But your idea won’t work either,” Darenth said evenly, his voice cutting across both of them and the rising pressure of anxiety in the room.

His friends turned to look at him.

“What do you mean, it won’t work? He’s come here to kill me and it’s the perfect place to do so.” Marcus frowned, but Lord Darenth only shook his head.

“He has not come only to kill you, Marcus. Oh, don’t get me wrong, that is what he intends, but he wishes to hurt you first. He wishes to look down at you and see a helpless man, one in pain, one whose life and happiness he holds in his hands. He wants power. Power over you.”

Marcus scoffed, glowering at Darenth. “You might have a letter from Humphrey Davy, but you’re not omniscient. The man’s a soldier, he’ll think like a soldier. He wants me dead, and he’ll look for the easiest way to achieve that.”

“And shoot you in the head,” Sheringham muttered.

Marcus sent him a dark look but said nothing.

“But he’s not a soldier, Marcus,” Darenth said quietly. “You are a soldier. He has only ever worn the uniform and played make believe. That is why he hates you. You are everything he is not.”

Marcus shifted uncomfortably, but the room had fallen silent, everyone present recognising the truth of the words. Darenth continued, his explanation fitting too perfectly for any of them to challenge it.

“Why has Keller struck now, Marcus? Ask yourself that. If he wanted you dead, why not try again immediately after Waterloo, when his plan backfired? You were wounded and vulnerable, but he didn’t bother. Because when you were in hospital, or hiding away nursing your wounds and your guilt, he could forget about you. But now you are to be celebrated with a portrait at Horse Guards, alongside all the other heroes of that great battle, and where is Keller? Nowhere. No one will remember him. That’s bad enough, but that history will remember you as a hero, that is unbearable.”

“What is your point?” Marcus asked tightly, though Eustacia noticed he did not argue against Darenth’s reasoning.

Lord Darenth sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers, his keen blue eyes studying Marcus as if he were a fascinating puzzle. “If I were Keller, I would want to see you broken. I would want you to feel as inadequate as you made me feel. A bullet to the head is efficient but not terribly satisfying. No, I would target something else. I would ask myself, what does Colonel Hamilton care about? What matters to him most.”

Wordlessly his gaze left Marcus and travelled to Eustacia.

Eustacia felt her colour rise as everyone turned to stare at her.

“She is our bait,” Darenth said simply.

There was a short, taut silence.

Everything happened at once after that. There was a blur of movement and suddenly Marcus had his hands upon Lord Darenth. He did not look entirely sane. Hawkney and Sheringham lunged forward, hauling Marcus off, holding him back with more than a little difficulty until the inevitable coughing fit overtook him and they let Marcus go as he braced himself against the wall, fighting for breath.

Eustacia ran to him.

“Marcus! Calm down. It’s all right. I’m all right.”

Marcus shook his head, his eyes blazing with such fury that her breath caught. “Never,” he managed, as his breathing sawed in and out. “Never. I forbid it.”

“Well,” Lord Darenth said, making a half-hearted attempt to straighten his cravat, which had been none too tidy in the first place but was now mangled beyond saving. “I was correct about his weak spot, it seems.”

“For God’s sake, Lucius,” Sheringham said, shaking his head. “I do not know how you’ve lived so long. Truly, I do not.”

Lucius frowned. “But I told you. I’m good at fighting.”

“You didn’t fight back then.”

“Of course not,” he said indignantly. “Marcus is your friend.”

Sheringham laughed and shook his head, patting the fellow on the shoulder. “Our friend, Lucius. Just don’t invite him to tea for a day or two.”