Page 50 of To Hunt the Hunter

By the time Matilda had calmed down, and the urge to smash things had dissipated, she discovered that Lucian had retired for the night. The coward. She knew damn well why he’d done it, and frustration gnawed at her. They had so little time together, and she wanted him so very badly. At the least, she had wanted to sleep in his arms, but he’d gone and got all honourable and conscientious on her at the moment she least required it of him.

She remembered a lavish dinner she’d attended last summer, cursing her bad luck to discover she was seated next to him. He’d tormented her with little more than a fingertip touching her hand, leaving her giddy and muddled, desire singing in her blood. He’d warned her not to be foolish enough to suppose he had a heart lurking beneath his icy facade, and that she was foolish indeed if she believed what was between them could end up anywhere but in his bed. Well, he’d been wrong. He had a heart, one that no one had ever taken the trouble to protect, one that he had hidden beneath that layer of ice rather than allow anyone else to hurt him. He’d been right, too. She would go to his bed, if he would let her.

She let out an incredulous breath of laughter. After all those months of refusing his advances and dancing around the flames of their attraction, and now… now, when she was ready to fling herself into his arms with abandon and no regrets, the devil was playing hard to get.

Honestly.

Life was so unfair. The urge to throw things returned with a vengeance.

So it was that the next morning Matilda readied herself for their journey with a headache and gritty eyes, having spent a restless night. By two in the morning, she’d been so close to going to his room and demanding he make love to her that she’d ended up weeping with frustration. No, she’d decided. It was not in her nature to beg. He wanted her badly. He’d made no secret of it and, as they were travelling under the guise of a married couple with their daughter—to Phoebe’s incandescent delight—they would share a room. No doubt he’d try to make other arrangements, but Matilda would thwart them. She might have to give him up for the future of his illustrious family, but she would not do so until he announced his betrothal. Until then, he was hers, and she was his, and that was all there was to it.

As they were to leave before dawn, in case Theodore had anyone watching the road out of Dern, Matilda had simply taken a cup of chocolate and some toast in her room while she was getting ready. Now, she turned this way and that in front of the full-length mirror as she inspected her disguise by candlelight. It was a plain but well-made green pelisse with a chip bonnet. The dress beneath was of the same colour as the pelisse, and Matilda wouldn’t have been seen dead in it in other circumstances, as it was last year’s style and nothing like as elegantly made as she was used to. As it was, it did the job very nicely. Sarah had dressed her hair plainly, too, in the hope she would not draw attention. Her maid was most put out that she was not coming with them, but mollified a little at the idea of staying at Dern and having some free time to explore the place.

They were travelling under the name of Mr and Mrs Bennet—Matilda’s suggestion—and would, at a glance, appear to be of the gentry. The one thing that was brightening Matilda’s morning—especially as she was vexed with him—was the prospect of seeing Lucian Barrington, Marquess of Montagu forced to play the part of a mere mister. She suspected he’d need to be kept out of sight as much as possible, for no one in their right mind would ever take him for anything other than a nobleman.

This supposition was confirmed the moment she stepped outside, where the plain, old-fashioned travelling carriages awaited, instead of Lucian’s usual luxurious equipage emblazoned with his crest.

“What on earth are you doing?” Lucian was demanding of Denton, Mrs Frant, and Pippin, who seemed to be loading their own luggage into a second carriage.

Matilda stared at him and felt her lips twitch, even though his inability to blend in was likely to cause them trouble. You couldn’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, and it appeared you could dress Lucian in a sack and still have no doubt whatsoever of who and what he was. The first glimmer of dawn was not yet lighting the horizon, but the carriage lamps turned Lucian’s pale hair the colour of old gold, and highlighted his high cheekbones and that aristocratic profile. His clothes might be of inferior quality, but nothing else about him was.

Denton drew himself up and moved towards his master. He looked anxious but determined.

“We are coming with you, my lord.”

“The devil you are,” Lucian replied.

“You need us,” Pippin said, folding her arms and moving to stand beside Denton with the air of a woman settling in for a fight. “You’ve no maid for Miss Hunt, and no governess for Miss Barrington neither, as that feeble-minded Miss Peagoose is too afraid of her own shadow to come with you. Even old Nanny Johnson had more backbone than that silly creature. Besides which, Denton’s been your valet before and he’s content to do so again, seeing as you will need the help, as you’ve but one arm and have never dressed yourself a day in your life.”

Lucian glowered. “I’m supposed to be a very ordinary Mr Bennet, travelling with my wife and daughter. I can’t be trailing valets and maids and… what the devil is Mrs Frant supposed to be?” he demanded, clearly impatient to be on his way.

“You aren’t. I am your darling mother, my boy,” Pippin retorted with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “And this is Mr and Mrs West, your in-laws.”

“Mama!” Matilda said with a wicked grin as she held her arms out to Mrs Frant, for the pure delight of seeing Lucian’s outraged expression. “How delightful to have you travelling with us, dearest.”

“Matilda!” he said, the exasperation in his voice clear, but before he could launch into his many objections, Denton spoke again.

“My lord,” he said, his voice grave. “We’ve failed to keep that man from causing you harm these many years, though I swear we’ve tried our best. Let us come with you and do what we may to keep you safe, for I wouldn’t stay at Dern another minute if anything befell your lordship, and I know I speak for Pippin and Mrs Frant too. Let us help you. There is safety in numbers and at least, if the truth was ever discovered, we might do what we can to mitigate the damage to Miss Hunt’s reputation.”

Lucian stared at Denton. His expression was hard to read but his eyes glittered in the lamplight. He gave a taut nod and turned away.

Denton let out a breath.

Matilda smiled and reached out, squeezing the butler’s hand. “Thank you.”

“It’s an honour to serve him,” he said, standing a little straighter. “And you, Lizzie,” he added, giving her a wink.

“Why thank you, Papa,” Matilda returned as he handed her into the carriage.

Matilda had just settled herself down when Phoebe came tearing down the steps. She scrambled up into the carriage and threw herself down on the seat opposite, fizzing with excitement.

“Well, someone is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning,” Matilda said with a smile.

“I am, and you look splendid, Mama, and you too, Papa!” Phoebe said as Lucian appeared in the open doorway, and then she crowed with laughter.

Lucian caught Matilda’s eye and shook his head.

“All that effort my uncle took to have me sent to Bedlam, and I’m fairly certain I’ll be certifiable before the end of the day,” he muttered before climbing in beside her.