Page 91 of The Untamed Heart

“I’m sorry—?” Eustacia began as Marcus sighed.

“He wants to know what the seedling is,” he said dryly.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Lucius. The woman paints this marvellous portrait, and you want to know what the little bit of green is?” Sheringham said impatiently.

“Yes.” Lord Darenth frowned. “Why is that unreasonable?”

Eustacia choked back a laugh. “I’m afraid it’s just a seedling. I don’t actually know which. I just painted it from a drawing I did of one I found in the cold frames.”

“You don’t know?” he demanded, aghast.

“I don’t,” she admitted.

“But—” he began, only to be silenced by Lord Sheringham.

“Lucius, it’s symbolic, you dolt. It represents life, new growth, new beginnings after war and death and destruction.”

Lord Darenth rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know that. But I want to know which seedling it is. Details are important. But even that could be symbolic if that’s what’s bothering you. You see, if it were a cabbage, for example, it might represent growth and prosperity, but if—”

Sheringham dragged the man away as he continued his explanation, mouthing apologies as he went.

Marcus shook his head. “It’s a good job he went home when he did. I think Hawkney was ready to do him an injury.”

“I believe he threatened to throw him out of an upstairs window,” said a familiar voice.

“Seb, darling!” Eustacia said, giving her brother a kiss on the cheek and lowering her voice so no one could listen in. “When did you get back from London? How did it go with the publisher? Did he like the first draft?”

“About five minutes ago, and not entirely,” he said with a grimace. “He thinks it’s not as romantic as my usual work.”

Eustacia frowned at him. “I do hope you are not trying to change your style and be something you are not, Seb. Everyone loves your work. You’ll only alienate people if you force yourself to sound other than what comes naturally.”

Seb rolled his eyes and glowered at her. “Is there an echo in here?”

“If your publisher said the same thing, then you know very well he’s given you good advice, as have I.”

“I concur,” Marcus said apologetically.

Seb sighed. “I know. I know. Oh, very well. I suppose there is no point in trying to be anything but what I am. I shall have to start over, but the first chapters are due in ten days. I shall have my work cut out for me now.”

“You’ll figure it out, love. It will be marvellous. I know it will,” Eustacia told him fervently.

Seb hugged her, smiling wryly at Marcus. “My biggest fan.”

“Your biggest fans,” Marcus corrected.

“Thanks,” he said with a crooked grin. “I needed that.”

Reverend Honeywell stood back and regarded the portrait thoughtfully. It truly was something special. Eustacia Foxworthy had an extraordinary talent for capturing the truth in paint.

“She wishes to paint you, you know.”

The reverend turned and beamed at the young woman beside him.

“Miss Halfpenny. Well, I am touched and honoured that she should wish it, but I suspect she will be kept busy with more illustrious clients from now on.”

Miss Halfpenny shook her head. “She would paint you and keep the more illustrious clients waiting, I assure you. Eustacia does not paint for money, but for the love of it, and if she wishes to paint you, she will.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Honeywell agreed with a smile. “And how are you, my dear? You are looking a little tired, if you don’t mind me remarking it.”