Page 85 of To Hunt the Hunter

“Yes,” she said, though she wondered why he would put her through such an ordeal, when he knew what it would cost her.

“And we’ll all be with you,” Jemima added, smiling at her. “You won’t be alone, Tilda.”

Matilda drew in a deep breath and returned her gaze to Phoebe.

“It seems I am outnumbered,” she said, trying to keep her voice light and hearing the bitterness there all the same. “You may tell Lucian I will be there.”

The relief in Phoebe’s eyes was dramatic, the smile that wreathed her pretty face so wide that Matilda wondered at it. Perhaps she had been arrogant in supposing she was important to the child’s life, that she would be missed, for the little girl seemed thrilled to have arranged this for her uncle. Yet, Phoebe knew what this ball was for, and had hated the idea of Lucian marrying anyone else. Matilda was too tired and miserable to consider it any further, though, and gave the girl a kiss on the cheek and watched her leave.

Well, she would see Lucian once more. She would endure the stares and the gossip of all those invited who were desperate to glimpse Montagu’s bride-to-be and his mistress in the same room.

Let them look. For that one night, she would hold her head up and act as though she and Lucian were nothing more than friends, as though her heart had not been torn from her chest, and if Lucian could repair her reputation, let him.

It really didn’t matter either way.

***

Phoebe ran down the steps, waving at Jack in the driver’s seat before she climbed into the carriage, where her uncle was waiting for her.

“Well?” he demanded, his expression taut with worry.

“She’s coming!” She squealed, jumping up and down in her seat.

“Oh, thank God.” He sat back and let out a harsh breath and then laughed. “Well done, Phoebe. I don’t know how you did it, but thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Oh, it was easy. She still has a dare to complete, like the ones her friends did, and they told her this would be the challenge.”

“What was the dare?” he asked, frowning.

“To do something that frightens her.”

She watched his face darken, his blond brows draw together, and she shifted, moving to sit beside him and take his hand. “It will be all right, and you’re frightened too, aren’t you? So it’s fair.”

He turned and looked at her and gave a little huff of laughter.

“Terrified,” he admitted.

“Well, there you are, then.” She grinned at him, relieved as his expression eased.

“There we are, then,” he said, smiling in return, and then his face fell again, and he tightened his grip on her hand.

“How was she?”

Phoebe bit her lip and shrugged.

“Like you,” she said.

He nodded, falling quiet for a moment. “Bee, what if—”

She rolled her eyes and grabbed hold of the silver-topped walking stick he often carried when in town. She rapped smartly on the ceiling of the carriage, turning back to him as it moved out.

“Stop worrying,” she ordered, wagging a finger at him. “You scared Great-Aunt Marguerite so badly she won’t come near you again. She doesn’t know a thing, and neither does anyone else. It’s all worked out, you just have to do as we planned, so stop fretting about it.”

He snorted and sat back, shaking his head.

“Oh, well, if you say so,” he remarked, and she knew he was only being sarcastic because he was nervous.

“I do. Everything will be just fine. Better than fine,” she amended sternly. “It will be perfect.”