Page 70 of To Hunt the Hunter

“I am,” Phoebe said, sounding a little shaken. “But I hope that Uncle hurt that wicked man very badly. Very badly indeed.”

Matilda hugged her.

“I believe he did,” she replied, uncertain if that were the right thing to say to a small girl, but aware of Phoebe’s sigh of relief at her words, at a little of the tension easing from her slender frame.

“We will put it right, won’t we?” Phoebe said, looking to Lucian for confirmation. “It’s already much improved, but Uncle will build new houses for the workers and make the conditions inside safer for them, and with better pay.”

“Yes, love,” Lucian said. “We shall do all of that, I promise.”

“Would you like to take your bonnet and gloves off now?” Matilda asked, releasing Phoebe at last and tugging at the ribbons of the bonnet as Phoebe nodded.

“Yes, thank you, and I think I’d like to see Pippin.”

Matilda nodded, smiling, aware that Pippin also provided excellent hugs. “Run along, then.”

She waited until the door had closed and got to her feet, moving towards Lucian. “Do you need a hug too?”

He gave an unsteady laugh and nodded. “I do.”

She held out her arms to him and he moved into them, resting his head upon hers with a sigh. “There will be no doubt of the story now. It will publish in every major paper all over the country, and Burton will be prosecuted for his part in it. God, Matilda, if ever a place was haunted….”

He shook his head as if trying to rid himself of the little ghosts.

“You will make it right,” she said, believing in him. “And you will allow the ghosts to rest in peace.”

“Such faith you have in me,” he said in wonder, touching a finger to her cheek. “Like Phoebe, believing I can make everything right.”

She returned a wistful smile. “Perhaps not everything, but this.”

He nodded and held her tight until a knock sounded at the door. With a regretful sigh, he let her go and put some distance between them.

“Come.”

To Matilda’s surprise, Flash Jack walked in, looking about the lavish hotel room with his eyes almost on stalks. She wondered what he would make of Dern Palace when he saw it. He clutched his battered tricorn hat in his hands, silver rings glinting on his meaty fingers.

“The meetin’ is all set up like you asked, lord,” Jack said. “The fellow is holed up in some little cottage up on the heights, so there’s no chance of him running into yon newspapermen. I got my fellows watchin’ him close, though, just in case.”

Lucian nodded. “You’ll meet him tonight?”

“Aye, six o’clock, afore it’s full dark. So, there’s the matter of proof. I used that shirt like you said,” he added, reaching into one of the capacious pockets of his greatcoat and hauling out a fine linen shirt, soaked in dried blood.

Matilda exclaimed with shock as Jack put out a hand to calm her.

“Oh, don’t fret, lady. ’Tis nowt but pig’s blood but on his lordship’s own fine linen, to reassure the old man he was proper cut up. And you said you’d give me your signet an’ all, lord.”

Lucian nodded, giving Jack the benefit of one of his iciest glares. “I did, and I will expect it returned to me promptly, or our association will be a short one, as will your life expectancy.”

Jack returned a reproachful stare, his haggard face settling as close to innocent affront as it was capable of attaining. “Ah, now, lord. I’ve sworn fealty an’ I meant it.”

“It’s my lord,” Lucian said coolly, tugging off the heavy gold signet with difficulty. “I am a marquess, not God Almighty, though you may not appreciate the difference if you renege on our arrangement.”

Jack’s mouth quirked.

“Aye, lord,” he said gravely.

Lucian sighed and tossed the ring to him. Jack caught it deftly in a hand the size of a ham hock and tucked it into an inside pocket.

“Sure you don’t want me just to cut his throat and be done with it?” he asked Lucian, a wicked glint in his eyes. “I owe it him, for bilking me, like.”