Page 7 of The Untamed Heart

“Shall we go to the tea shop, or do you prefer The Mermaid?”

“The Mermaid,” he said at once, and she wondered if it was merely proximity, or the larger, airier dining room that he preferred. The tea shop perhaps felt too cosy, too intimate, and might make him uncomfortable, not that she had seen him at ease yet. She wondered what he might be like if he did relax and determined to find some way to discover it.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Fairway,” Eustacia said as the woman greeted her with a warm smile. “Might we have tea, please, and perhaps some sandwiches and cakes? I’m famished,” she added, darting a glance at Colonel Hamilton.

This was true, if overstated, as she hoped he would eat too. There was a gaunt look to his cheeks, and she could tell he’d lost a good amount of weight. The desire to cosset him and feed him up was one she would need to keep in check, however, for she knew he would intensely dislike being fussed over. However, if there happened to be food before him, perhaps he would take advantage of it.

Mrs Fairway led them through to the dining room, which had wonderful views out over the sea and sat them down at a table by a large window. In the summer, the large glass doors would be flung open onto the terrace where one could enjoy their famous flavoured ices but today was not a day for such a treat.

Eustacia took off her hat and gloves and surreptitiously watched the colonel as he gazed out at the sea.

“How are you finding our lovely town? It’s a charming place, and quite busy in the summer, but I suspect you are finding the inactivity rather frustrating.”

“That’s a polite way of putting it,” he replied, absently straightening the china and cutlery on the table until it was lined up like soldiers on parade. “I’m climbing the bloody walls, if you want the truth.”

Eustacia nodded. “And here I am expecting you to sit still for hours on end.”

He shrugged, saying nothing. The portrait was already an ordeal as far as he was concerned. Eustacia racked her brain, wondering how she might make the experience more enjoyable, or at least less torturous for him.

“What did you like to do as a boy, before you joined the army?”

The question clearly took him by surprise, because he answered quickly and then looked as if he wished he had not. “I spent all my time with my grandfather,” he said, and then scowled at her as if she had forced the words from him at gunpoint.

“Ah, what manner of man was he? Was he a soldier too?” she asked, keeping her voice light and free of too much curiosity, though she was more interested than she liked to admit, and not just for the sake of the portrait. She wanted to know what had shaped this man and given him his granite exterior, for he could not entirely repress the glimpses of a funny and charming soul hidden beneath.

There was a long pause, and she wondered if he would change the subject.

“No,” he said with a reluctant sigh. “He was my mother’s father. A gentle fellow, a renowned horticulturist. He spent every minute of his life in his garden or his greenhouses.”

“And you spent time with him?”

He nodded, using the sugar tongs to reorder the cubes in the bowl before him in a more pleasing and even arrangement. “Every minute of the day until I was sent away to school, and then the holidays after that. My father was away a good deal of the time, and my mother did not enjoy living alone, so she would return to his house.”

Well, that was interesting.

“So, you’re knowledgeable about gardening?”

He looked up at her suspiciously, then down at his hands, staring suspiciously at the tongs as if he did not know how he came to be holding them. He set them down sharply and then could not resist the urge to straighten them, so they were in line with everything else. “Hardly that.”

The words were dismissive, but Eustacia knew a deflection when she heard one.

“Our garden is a terrible tangle, if a charming one. Sebastian cannot tell a rose from a bindweed and has no interest, and we have not been able to afford a gardener for the moment. Perhaps once Miss Halfpenny’s portrait is shown and the commissions come in with more frequency, I shall be able to employ someone, but for now it is an embarrassment.”

Though he hid it well, Eustacia felt certain she had piqued his interest, and held her breath.

“A pity,” he said, frowning down at the table.

“It is. We have stunning views on all sides, and whilst the wind batters us, there are strong hedges and a lovely wall too that offers shelter. The kitchen garden must once have been splendid, though it has long since gone to wrack and ruin. I have drawn it several times, as it is rather charming in its disarray. In fact….”

With a sudden flash of inspiration, Eustacia drew out her sketchbook and flipped back through the pages. She made all her own sketchbooks, and usually used larger paper when at home, but the drawing of the garden had been spur of the moment and she’d had the smaller book at hand.

“Ah, here we are,” she said with satisfaction, handing it to him.

Eustacia watched intently as he studied the sketch. “There are several,” she added, gesturing for him to turn the page, but he took his time and she suspected his attention to detail was one of many characteristics that had made him such a fine soldier.

“There seems to be an elaborate arrangement of cold frames. Whoever had the garden in its heyday certainly took it seriously and spared no expense. It is rather a sad tangle now, however,” he added, and she heard the regret in his voice.

“It is,” she said with remorse. “And I don’t have the least idea what to do with it. Oh, perhaps when you come for your sitting, you might take a look? If you give me some pointers, I could set to clearing it up when I have some free time. I might even bully my indolent brother into lifting a finger.”