Page 5 of To Hunt the Hunter

“Yes.”

“Sugar?”

“No.”

His words were clipped and Matilda kept her eyes on the tea until she had made it to her satisfaction, and then dared to lift her gaze with the cup she offered. His scrutiny was everything she had expected, and the cup rattled a little in the saucer until he deigned to take it from her.

To her relief, he did, and sat in the chair to her left rather than beside her on the loveseat.

They sipped their tea in silence for what seemed like an eternity to Matilda, whose stomach was tying itself into a Gordian knot. Finally, he spoke.

“You are too good, Matilda. Foolish beyond measure, forgiving beyond anything any reasonable person would expect, and… and I am touched, but this won’t do. You must see. You have impressed upon me time and again the importance of everything you hope for, and now you would throw it all away, and for what? You’ve not come here to be my lover. I’m not fool enough to believe that. So, you would risk everything and gain nothing?”

“If you need me, as I believe you do, yes, Lucian. I would.”

She held his gaze and this time it was Lucian who looked away, unsettled. He rarely let anyone see what he felt, had allowed her only a few brief glimpses of his heart, but his confusion was evident now.

Matilda smiled. “It is what you never understood. You cannot force me to your will with promises of wealth or power, but when you trusted me with a little of your real self, you treated me as a friend, a confidant. For that, I would move mountains if needs be.”

He let out a breath and set down his teacup. “I cannot help but think fate is laughing at me.”

“How so?”

She watched as he turned to face her. “Do you not understand the temptation you present, even now? Can you truly have no idea of the control it requires to sit here and not beside you, to not take you in my arms and persuade you to be with me for always, and not as my friend, Matilda? Not only that, at least. You once told me you were glad I’d not asked you to marry me, to save your reputation, for you’d rather be ruined than married to a man more dead than alive.”

Matilda blushed, remembering that particular clash all too vividly.

“Oh, no, don’t you dare regret it,” he said, his silver eyes flashing. “You were right. I have been cold and dead inside for too many years but, you and Phoebe, you won’t leave me be, you won’t let me skulk about in the dark where I belong. The pair of you… you’re always….”

He stood suddenly, raking a hand through his hair, and Matilda felt her heart clench. He sounded almost angry, certainly frustrated. She knew she had caught him unawares, unprepared to see her. If he had known she was coming, she would never have seen this side of him, he would never have allowed her a glimpse of this dishevelled, less than pristine version of the marquess.

“Always what?” she asked gently.

There was a taut silence. “You make me wish I were different.”

“Different how?” Matilda’s heart gave an uncomfortable thud in her chest, and she was too aware of the breathlessness of her words.

“If… If my father and Philip had lived, if I had only been the second son—the spare—I might have courted you.” He let out a breath of laughter. “My God, what am I saying? Even then Father would have been furious. He would never have allowed it.”

Matilda set down her teacup before she dropped it. “Would he have cut you off?”

“Probably.”

“But you… you’d have done it, anyway?”

He turned back to her and nodded, holding her gaze. “Yes.”

Matilda’s breath caught. Oh.

He turned away from her then and moved to the door. “Finish your tea, Matilda. I’ll have Denton show you to your room. Goodnight.”

He didn’t look back, just closed the door on her. Matilda hardly knew what to make of what had been said, and they’d never even mentioned his uncle.

Chapter 3

My lord,

I thank you for your kind words and good wishes upon my recent marriage. I confess I wrongly assumed that you of all people would be appalled by my having so lowered Lady Helena in the eyes of society. I am gratified by your comments and estimation of my character. Among the men of higher rank I have dealt with, you have always been the most honourable and truthful—not always a pleasant experience, but at least one knows where one stands.