Page 13 of To Hunt the Hunter

There was a moment of stunned silence before Lucian rescued them.

“I’m not certain that will feed us if you were hoping to supply lunch, Bee.”

Matilda looked at him in awe. He had crouched down to inspect Phoebe’s catch of a single stickleback, and she was astonished at how calm he sounded, when she was still all a-quiver from their kiss and the implication of his words. Practise, she supposed. He’d had years and years to learn how to disguise his feelings, to hide everything but what he wished people to see of him.

“Don’t be silly,” Phoebe huffed, rolling her eyes. “We can’t eat it, but I am famished. Can we have our picnic now?”

Lucian made a show of inspecting the fish before looking back at his niece.

“You look like you fell in,” he observed, taking in her rumpled dress and its sodden, muddy hem. “But it is a very fine fish, and of course you are famished. There is no other state for you, child: I believe you have hollow legs. But yes, I think perhaps we should eat now. Go and unpack our feast.”

Phoebe gave a little yip of triumph and hurried back around the thick tree trunk to the other side where they’d set out the picnic. Lucian looked up at Matilda, his expression somewhat rueful.

“What an excellent chaperone she is,” he murmured. “And no picnic, no matter how lavish, will satisfy me today, I fear.”

Matilda blushed, but held his gaze as he straightened and offered her his hand. She took it and he raised it to his lips, kissing her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Come along,” he said with a sigh. “Before I steal you away on the pretence of playing least in sight. I am dangerously close to such despicable behaviour, I assure you.”

Matilda smiled, deciding it was best not to mention that she was dangerously close to playing along.

Chapter 5

Theo,

I’ve damn near lost everything, you bloody old fool. Is this the thanks I get for helping you? I want what I was promised. All of it. You’d best find me a way in because if I fail, so do you.

―Excerpt of a letter to Mr Theodore Barrington, from an unknown correspondent.

25th April 1815. Dern, Sevenoaks, Kent.

It was rather like living in a dream, the kind of dream she had never dared allow herself to even glimpse. It was too lovely to be real, too close to everything she’d ever wanted to be good for her. Such dreams only led to dissatisfaction and disappointment when you realised reality could never, ever compare. Yet here she was, picnicking at Dern, surrounded by wildflowers, sitting under the shade of an oak tree on a warm, spring day, with Lucian and Phoebe.

Phoebe was in high spirits. The little girl had confided that Matilda had the honour of being her favourite person in the world—besides Lucian—though Pippin came a very close third. So, to have her two favourite people together had her full of joy and laughter, which was quite infectious and impossible to resist. No matter how hard Matilda tried to guard her heart, it was a hopeless venture. She might have had more luck if Lucian wasn’t so irresistible in such a setting.

He was still immaculate, and every inch the marquess, but she realised she was seeing him with a few of his defences lowered. Not all. She caught the guarded look in his eyes on occasion, a wariness that told her she was not the only one risking things here. He’d lost everyone he’d ever cared for, except Phoebe, and Matilda did not doubt he had no desire to be hurt again. The revelations about his uncle were so shocking it only made the dreamlike feel of the day more pronounced, for if this was a dream, that was surely a nightmare. She had so many questions, not one of which she could ask for fear of spoiling the day she had promised to give him.

“I agree, Sidney is a fine name for a stickleback,” Lucian said, with every expression of gravity. “But, nonetheless, he must be put back in the stream.”

“Oh, but, Uncle!” Phoebe pouted. “Can’t I take him home?”

“No. The poor thing will die. Just think how lonely he’ll be.”

“But I’ll keep him company,” she protested.

Lucian sent Matilda an appealing look.

“Yes, but you are not a stickleback,” Matilda said gently. “And perhaps he has a wife. Children, even. They’ll be worried for him.”

Phoebe huffed. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. Very well, but you have to come too.”

She tugged at Lucian’s arm, and Matilda watched as they walked hand-in-hand down to the stream to set Sidney free. They crouched down by the water, two impossibly blonde heads bent together, the sun turning them to gold, glinting like a field of barley. She drew in a deep breath. One day. Just one perfect day. It must be enough. She smiled as Phoebe waved to her, and waved back, catching her breath as Lucian blew her a kiss once Phoebe had returned her attention to the stream. She laughed and pretended to catch it, making him smile.

A snap of twigs and the indignant squawk of a bird had her glancing away from him towards the woodland they had driven through on the way here, half expecting to see someone walking about in the undergrowth. Matilda squinted into the sunlight but saw nothing moving. Just a deer, no doubt, or perhaps a gamekeeper. She looked back to Lucian, who was holding Phoebe’s hand as she waved goodbye to Sidney, and sighed. Gathering herself, Matilda tidied away their picnic before she grew maudlin.

She wasn’t about to waste what little time they had with regrets; there would be days enough for those later.

“Here!”