To Hunt the Hunter (Girls Who Dare Book 11)

by Emma V. Leech

  She would not cry.

  “It’s not the only reason they are looking,” Aashini replied with a slight smile. “It’s not the only reason they look at me either.”

  Matilda nodded and reached out, taking her friend's hand and gripping it tightly.

  “Oh, look, there’s Prue and Bedwin,” Bonnie said.

  Matilda turned to see the couple hurrying towards them, though hurrying was a relative term, as Prue looked like a ship in full sail, with her voluminous skirts doing little to disguise her pregnancy, magnificent and every inch a duchess as she swept through the crowd.

  “Matilda!” she said urgently, her eyes alight with excitement.

  “Prue, slow down, love,” Bedwin muttered, steadying his wife as she gasped for breath.

  “Prue, what is it?” Matilda said, a little alarmed.

  “Oh, Matilda!” Prue dabbed at her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief, and then took hold of her hands. “Darling, it will be all right….”

  “The Marquess of Montagu.”

  Prue’s words were halted as Lucian was announced, and the crowd stilled, every head craning to see him standing at the top of the stairs that led down into the vast ballroom. Matilda’s breath caught, her heart speeding in her chest, so fast she feared she might do something as appalling as swoon. Aashini held her hand, gripping tightly.

  “We’re here, Matilda,” Helena said quietly beside her.

  Matilda knew they were. She could feel the presence of all her friends, their love for her giving her courage, giving her the ability to look up across the ballroom and meet those silver eyes, perhaps for the last time.

  Oh God, he was magnificent, resplendent in his evening dress, the severe black-and-white a perfect foil for his austere beauty. He was staring at her as though he could not look away, and colour rose in her cheeks.

  Stop it, Lucian.

  Why was he staring at her so? He was supposed to be saving her, not making it worse.

  Suddenly, he was moving with the grace of a panther, stalking down the stairs to the ballroom, the crowd parting before him like prey before a predator. A murmur of delighted anticipation shivered over everyone assembled as they saw where he was going, expecting a delicious scandal to unfold before them as he headed for the woman they knew to be his mistress.

  “What is he doing?” Matilda demanded, clutching at Aashini’s hand.

  “Courage, Matilda,” Prue commanded. “It will be all right.”

  Matilda wanted to look to her friend, to demand how she knew that, but she could not take her eyes off Lucian as he moved towards her. He looked as cool and untouchable as always, icy and remote, and yet she saw something in his eyes as he drew closer, something that had her heart skipping about in a mad dance behind her ribs. A flash and glitter of light under the glare of the chandeliers above drew her gaze to his lapel. The ruby-and-diamond witch’s heart he had sent her once before sparkled against his black coat. He had told her she had bewitched him when he had sent her his gift. She had refused it and sent it back again. Why on earth was he wearing it?

  Matilda had no time to consider the question, as he was standing right in front of her.

  “Good evening, Miss Hunt,” he said, giving her a deep and respectful bow, as the murmurs of shock and delighted fascination grew louder.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, her voice quavering.

  He smiled at her and reached for the brooch at his lapel, unpinning it.

  “You scolded me the last time I tried to give you this,” he said, holding the little heart in the palm of his hand. “You said a gentleman would never presume to send a gift of such value and intimacy to a lady unless they were betrothed. Not if he had any respect for her.”

  “And I was right,” she said, furious now, too conscious of the hundreds of eyes upon them, watching him ruin her for good, announcing to the world the intimacy of their relationship.

  To her horror, he stepped forward and put his hands to her gown, earning a gasp from all corners of the ballroom. Matilda was too shocked to react at all, only dimly aware of Bedwin fighting to restrain her brother. With perfect calm, Lucian pinned the heart to the neckline of her dress, his gloved hands brushing her skin, making her shiver with longing. His silver eyes glinted with satisfaction as he looked back at her.

  “You have my heart now, Matilda, for always, and this time I should like you to keep it.”

  “Lucian,” Matilda began, bewildered, tears gathering in her eyes as the declaration made her heart sing even as he cast her from society for good, and then he did the most extraordinary thing.

  Matilda watched, astonished, as Lucian Barrington, the Marquess of Montagu, got to one knee.

  ***

  His hands were shaking so badly he hadn’t the faintest idea how he’d pinned the bloody brooch on. When he’d seen her standing in the ballroom, proud as a queen, surrounded by those who loved her, he’d thought his heart would give out. He had always had to turn away from the things he’d wanted, to choose his duty over pleasure, over happiness. Could he really make a different choice this time? His chest had been tight with panic, with terror, for surely she could not be his, surely he had not the right to such a prize. Everyone here thought him the prize to be won, but that was because they were fools who could not see the truth.

  God, she was beautiful.

  The gown she wore sparkled beneath the light of hundreds of candles, making her look as if she was ablaze, a fairy queen dressed in starlight. He was certain he hadn’t breathed from the moment he’d seen her, his lungs locked down as he crossed the floor. All the world was watching and, if she refused him, he would be a laughingstock, ridiculed until the end of time. Which was why he had to do it this way, why he had to give her the power when he had taken that from her all those years ago. He loved her too much to do anything less than this, a public declaration of his love and esteem before all of those who had scorned her. Let them think less of her now, the woman who had brought the Marquess of Montagu to heel, and to his knees. He would crush anyone who so much as glanced at her with anything less than respect.

  He could see the hurt in her eyes as he grew closer, her confusion, and prayed she would not run from him, but stand sure and proud until he could make clear his intentions.

  “You have my heart now, Matilda, for always,” he said, aware that his voice trembled as much as his hands. “And this time I should like you to keep it.”

  “Lucian….” She broke off with a gasp as he got to one knee before her and reached for her hand.

  “My love,” he said, as everyone else disappeared and only she was before him, the woman who had melted the ice, who had stood beside him while he faced the monster from his childhood and all the ghosts that haunted him. “I have been dying a little more each day without you. I cannot live this way, cannot endure another day without you by my side. Please, Matilda, would you do me the very great honour of becoming my wife?”

  Her mouth fell open, her beautiful blue eyes glittering with tears, wide with astonishment. She said nothing, just stared at him in silence, and Lucian’s heart thudded unevenly as panic bloomed in his chest.

  “Say yes, Matilda!” cried a little voice from the balcony above. They both looked up to see Phoebe hanging over the balustrade, waving madly. “Say yes!”

  Matilda gave a startled laugh and turned back to him, her smile wide and glorious.

  “Yes,” she whispered, and Lucian let out a breath of relief. Louder this time, she said it again. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes!”

  “Oh, thank God.”

  He got to his feet as a shriek of horror echoed around the ballroom, loud even over the din of excited chatter and shock. Lucian saw his aunt Marguerite fall back in a swoon with a billow of black bombazine.

  “Oh, dear,” Matilda said, meeting his eyes.

  Lucian could only grin at her as he took her hands, holding on tight. He felt it was an expression that would not leave his face for some considerable time.

&n
bsp; “I love you,” he said, wishing they were alone, wishing he could take her in his arms and kiss her, never let her go.

  “I love you too,” she replied, though she looked bewildered. “Oh, but Lucian, are you sure? Your name, the title—”

  Lucian shook his head.

  “My son,” he said, squeezing her fingers. “I won’t condemn my son to the life I have led, the life my father expected of Philip. I would have him be happy, be loved. I would know how that feels too, Matilda. For always.”

  She made a choked sound, tears spilling over, and Lucian felt his heart squeezed with happiness. He made a gesture to the orchestra, instructing them to play.

  “Might I have the pleasure of this dance, love?”

  “Yes,” she said, laughing and crying at once now, as he led her onto the floor. She wiped her eyes with a gloved hand, trying to compose herself. “Oh, my word, Lucian. Everyone is staring at us. They think you’ve run mad.”

  He shrugged and took her in his arms. “There is nothing new there, my love, and I don’t give a damn. You and Phoebe are all I care about. The rest of the world can go to the devil.”

  The music swelled and he pulled her close, too close for propriety, gazing down at this extraordinary woman, knowing that all the world could see what he felt, could see how hard he had fallen, and not caring if they did. He had spent his entire life hiding his emotions, keeping himself apart, but not in this moment. He would not hide this, for it was too vast to be contained, and it burned too fiercely to be hidden under layers of ice.

  “I could not bear the pain, love,” he said, wishing he could take her away with him now, this instant. “I have missed you so dreadfully. I did not know what to do with myself.”

  “Me either,” she said, gazing up at him. “I was so furious with you for leaving me as you did.”

  He nodded, his heart aching for the hurt he had inflicted. “I’m so sorry. I was too afraid to stay. I knew I could not tell you goodbye, so I ran. But I have come back again, Matilda, and I shall never leave you again. You are all I want, only you, and I shall do everything in my power to make you happy.”

  “You have,” she said, laughing, the joyous sound of it making his heart light. “And I know you always will.”

  ***

  The music ended but Lucian did not let go of her. He just stood, gazing down at her, such an expression in his eyes that she could not look away.

  “The dance has ended,” she whispered, but he shook his head.

  “It’s only just begun.”

  She laughed again, giddy and bubbling over with happiness.

  “If this is a dream, don’t let me wake up.”

  “Never,” he promised. “We’ll dream it together.”

  Together. They would be together. He’d asked her to marry him, in front of everyone! Suddenly they were surrounded by her friends, and there was a babble of noise, laughter, and happy tears as she was hugged and embraced, and Lucian’s hand was shaken. Matilda choked back a laugh as Gabriel Knight slapped Lucian on the back, and Lucian slid her a glance, amused by the friendly, masculine gesture. He would have to get used to such things as friends now. The thought made her heart light. She would make him happy. She would fill that vast palace with the sound of laughter, with their children and their friends, and the sounds of a life lived to the full.

  Lucian reached for her, taking her hand and holding it tight, as if he feared she might yet escape him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lady Constance Rivenhall and her mother stalking from the ballroom in disgust. She ought to feel sympathy perhaps, but… not tonight.

  “Oh, Tilda!”

  Matilda staggered, forced to let Lucian’s hand go as Bonnie hugged her fiercely, almost toppling them both to the floor.

  “That was the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” Bonnie proclaimed at the top of her lungs, pressing a hand to her heart in dramatic fashion as their friends laughed, and all the old tabbies tutted and shook their heads.

  “Oh, I say, love,” Jerome protested. “Steady on. I’m dreadfully romantic, too.”

  Bonnie snorted. “Yes, of course you are,” she said, her voice soothing. “But still… Montagu of all people, down on one knee. Oh, my word, I nearly swooned.”

  “Me too,” Kitty sighed, shaking her head. “Oh, Matilda, people will talk of this for decades. What a conquest, and the look in his eyes…! My word, he adores you.”

  “He does,” Matilda replied, deciding she had every right to feel smug in the circumstances. “Prue!” she exclaimed, seeing her friend draw closer.

  “Congratulations,” Prue said, beaming.

  “You knew,” Matilda accused her.

  Prue looked just a little sheepish and extremely pleased with herself as she nodded.

  “I did, but only since yesterday afternoon, and I was sworn to secrecy. I wanted to give you a hint before he arrived, but this sweet darling was causing me some difficulty,” she said, smoothing a loving hand over her belly. “And so we were late leaving.”

  “But how?” Matilda demanded, perplexed.

  Prue drew her to one side, lowering her voice. “Montagu came to see me with an idea of how your story, his story, could be told as it ought to be. So that people would fall in love with you as he did—his words.”

  “You’re going to write it,” Matilda said, breathing the words in wonder.

  Prue nodded. “Only with your blessing, Matilda, and you shall both read every word before it is printed. Of course, I shall change all the names and it won’t be published as your story, but everyone will know, all the same.”

  Matilda stared at Prue. “He really wants that?”

  “He wants people to know how you suffered, how badly misjudged you were, and how brave and strong you have been. It’s rather clever, actually. I think if I do it right—which I will, naturally—it will not only repair your reputation, I think you will be the most beloved figure of the ton. I am a marvellous writer, after all,” she added gravely, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

  Matilda laughed, delighted by her, by the idea, and by Lucian for having thought of it.

  “Yes, you are,” she said, embracing Prue as best she could around her bump. “But won’t you be a bit too busy for such things soon?”

  Prue shrugged.

  “Honestly, I’m too fat to do anything else at the moment, and I’ve been bored to tears. Your story has everything: triumph over evil, star-crossed lovers. Oh, and that scene this evening.” Prue gave a contented sigh. “If I had a pen to hand I would begin at once.”

  Matilda laughed, well aware she was quite serious. “Well, whatever makes you happy, love. I can’t wait to read it.”

  She looked up as Lucian approached again, his eyes alight with pleasure.

  “If I could steal you away for a moment, Miss Hunt,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I believe there is someone who is dying to speak to you.”

  “Of course,” she said at once.

  He made their apologies and guided her out of the ballroom and through to an elegant blue salon. The moment the door opened, there was a shriek of delight and Phoebe ran towards them.

  “She said yes!” she shouted, launching herself at Lucian who swept her up and spun her around, laughing with such unabashed joy that Matilda was in danger of sobbing again.

  “She did, Bee, with a little help from you.”

  “I was going to say yes anyway,” Matilda protested, wondering if her heart could stand any more; it was already bubbling over with happiness. “I was just a little stunned.”

  “Well, whatever the cause, you nearly gave me heart failure,” Lucian admitted, kissing Phoebe’s cheek. “I was dying there, Bee.”

  “I know, I could tell,” Phoebe said gravely, hugging his neck. “That’s why I gave her a hint.”

  “Congratulations, my lord.”

  Lucian looked around to see Pippin, who had been hanging back, giving them their time together. He set Phoebe down, and she ran at once t
o hug Matilda, while Lucian moved towards Pippin. Matilda watched, holding Phoebe to her and feeling her throat grow tight as Lucian drew the woman into a hug.

  “I have never said so in as many words, Pippin, but I don’t think I would be here at all, if not for you.” He looked down at her and leaned in, kissing her cheek. “Thank you. Thank you for always being there, for every little kindness, for all the hugs and the biscuits, and words of comfort. I shall never forget them, and there will always be a place for you at Dern, for the rest of your days, Pippin, for I could not be parted from you now.”

  “Ah, Lucian,” Pippin said, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief as he released her. “It was my pleasure. I was proud to do it, and I’m proud to serve you, my lord.”

  Lucian nodded and Matilda snatched at the handkerchief that Phoebe offered her with relief.

  “Pippin,” he said, his voice more serious now. “There is one thing that has been bothering me. What did you send my uncle?”

  Pippin’s face darkened and she folded her arms. “When you sent him back to India, I had something put in his trunks. Along with a letter, warning him that his heart would tick down like an unwound clock if he ever set foot in England again.”

  “What, Pippin?” he demanded.

  Pippin pursed her lips. “You don’t believe in my nonsense, my lord, so there’s no point in you knowing, now is there?”

  “It was heart failure,” he said stubbornly. “He always indulged too much in rich food and wine. A lifetime of such overindulgence would have taken its toll.”

  “Probably.” Pippin shrugged, though the glint in her eyes did not tally with her reply.

  Lucian turned to Matilda for confirmation and she bit her lip, uncertain of how to reply. “Well, it was odd, Lucian,” she said apologetically. “Helena said they all felt the strangest sensation when they held hands. Something powerful.”

  “Of course it was powerful,” Pippin scoffed. “They love you, Miss Hunt. Whatever you believe, my lord, Theodore knew what I had predicted. He knew he’d lost the game, and he could feel how protected you were, both of you. Perhaps the knowledge made his heart give out, perhaps it was something more…. What does it matter? He’s dead, and life is for the living. For you both. Make the most of it, my dears.”