Page 62 of To Hunt the Hunter

Lucian shrugged. “You know who I am. You say you have heard of me by reputation. What do your instincts tell you? I suspect a man in your profession has learned to listen to them.”

“Cold as ice, just like they said,” the fellow murmured with obvious admiration as he considered this.

Lucian held his tongue for a moment, trying to remember where he’d heard the fellow’s sobriquet before and noting the large ruby glinting in one ear. It was pretty and incongruous on such a villainous character and, no doubt, the means by which the fellow had earned his name.

“Might you be Flash Jack, by any chance?” he asked, frowning.

The big brute brightened, grinning broadly. “Aye, lord. You’ve heard of me too, eh?”

Lucian nodded. “I once met a friend of yours. At least, he spoke of you being in the same, er… line of work. Galloping Johnson, I believe he went by. We did a little business together, though it was years ago.”

Flash Jack’s eyes grew wide. “Old Johnny? Lord, yes, he told me once about a right fancy toff he’d worked for. A deep one, he said, and not to be crossed if you knew what was good for you. ’Ere, you don’t mean to say…. You’re not the cove what saved Johnny from the noose?”

“Actually I am,” Lucian replied with a cool nod and an inward rush of relief, suddenly certain he was back on solid ground. “I was indebted to him for information he’d brought me, and he was a thief, not a murderer. I saw no reason for him to hang, so I stepped in.”

Lucian waited whilst Flash Jack gave him a hard stare. He returned the man’s gaze placidly.

“Reckon I will have that little chat, lord,” the fellow said, and climbed into the carriage.

***

“What the devil is going on up there?” Matilda fretted, pacing back and forth.

She felt sick with fear and her heart was thudding too fast. It had been ages since the horsemen had thundered onto the bridge and since then there had not been a peep out of anyone. To her intense relief there had been no shots fired, no clash of swords or shouts of pain but… what on earth was happening?

“Perhaps we should go and see,” Phoebe said, peering around the side of the bridge.

Matilda grabbed hold of her coat and hauled her back again.

“No. We promised we would stay put,” she said, though the indignation of hiding down here was gnawing at her insides.

“Like good little girls,” Phoebe retorted in disgust, folding her arms.

Matilda looked at the child and shook her head. “Your uncle had better survive, for I’m not sure I have the stamina to see you come out to society.”

Phoebe shrugged. “He always says it’s society that needs to be prepared for my come out, not me prepared for society.”

Matilda smiled despite everything. “I believe he is correct.”

They both turned with a gasp as footsteps sounded outside the bridge and Phoebe swung the gun up, holding it in both hands.

“Miss Hunt, Miss Barrington… it’s Denton.”

“Oh, thank heavens,” Matilda said with a sigh of relief.

Phoebe did not lower the pistol though. The man himself appeared, peering cautiously around the corner of the bridge.

“Now then, Miss Barrington, everyone is quite safe. You can put the pistol down.”

“Are you sure?” Phoebe asked suspiciously, not budging an inch. “Where is my uncle, then?”

“His lordship is making arrangements with a Mr Flash Jack, miss, and begs you to come and meet your new travelling companions.”

***

Matilda stared disbelievingly as she saw Lucian lounging against the side of the bridge, deep in conversation with a large man who looked like a flesh and blood representation of every highwayman sketch she’d ever seen. She hurried to Lucian, who held out his hand to her before Phoebe barrelled into him.

“Hello, Bee,” he said, lifting the little girl up and kissing her. “I’m glad you didn’t shoot Denton.”