Page 20 of To Hunt the Hunter

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Lucian did not speak, his brow furrowed with displeasure. She wondered if he was angry with her for having spoken of things that did not concern her.

“I’m sorry. I ought not have said anything. It is none of my affair.”

She did her best not to sound brittle and defensive, but suspected she failed.

Lucian slid her a glance from under his lashes. “No. You’re not the least bit sorry, and neither should you be. I asked for your opinion, and it is duly noted.”

Matilda let out a breath, hoping they could change the subject, though she knew he would be reluctant to keep his promise to her. “You said you would tell me about your uncle, about Thomas.”

He sighed, swirling the remaining wine in his glass, and staring despondently down into it. She knew what he was thinking, for she was thinking the exact same thing. There were far more pleasant ways in which they could spend their evening, their only evening together. Talking of things which Lucian would likely find painful was hardly something he would wish for instead.

Yet he had promised, and Matilda felt he needed to speak of it. Whenever her friends had unburdened themselves of their troubles, they had always felt better for it. Solutions had become easier to see once the problem had been aired and shared with someone who had their best interests at heart. That at least she could give him. It was why she had come.

“Lucian?”

He closed his eyes for a moment.

“Very well,” he said, but with such reluctance she felt wretched for insisting. “Come along, then. We’ll retire to the library.”

Matilda set aside her napkin and stood when Lucian pulled out her chair for her. As they retired, Lucian instructed Denton that they were not to be disturbed and that the staff could retire once their work was done. Matilda suppressed a thrill of anticipation, reminding herself sternly that it was only because they must speak of private matters.

“I still don’t remember which way it is,” she said, trying to lighten the mood a little as she took his arm.

“The place is a maze,” he admitted. “And heaven help you if you set something down and don’t remember where it was.”

“Marvellous for playing least in sight, though.” She squeezed his arm, smiling up at him.

“You might think so,” he said wryly. “However, it is possible to hide indefinitely in a house like this. It is full of secret rooms and hidden passageways. It can be tiresome if you’re not found after half an hour or so. Here you could wait an eternity, and if you can’t find your way back out… you might not have a choice.”

Matilda shuddered. “Very well, have it your way. I’ve quite gone off the idea now.”

He chuckled, and she was pleased his good humour had been somewhat restored.

Lucian opened the door to the library and gestured for Matilda to go through. She stepped into the room, smiling with pleasure to be back in the lovely space.

“I think this is one of my favourite rooms,” she said, turning back to him, her breath catching in disbelief as a dark shape detached itself from the shadows behind the open door.

Matilda screamed.

Chapter 7

I warned you my nephew was not to be underestimated, though if the conditions in your mills were as vile as reported, you’re a fool. It was bound to come to light. There are always do-gooders wanting to meddle in private affairs.

The attached plan will give you what you need. It is my nephew’s habit to retire to the library after dinner. He does not know I am aware of this tunnel, a secret his father guarded closely. Providing you can evade the staff and get to it unseen, you’ll take him completely unawares. The rest is up to you.

―Excerpt of a letter from Mr Theodore Barrington to Mr David Burton.

25th April 1815. Dern, Sevenoaks, Kent.

Lucian spun around to face the threat as it resolved itself into the figure of a man in a black cloak. Matilda felt her heart racing, a cold, sick sensation rolling over her as she saw the glint of a knife in the lamplight.

“You,” Lucian said, his expression one of disgust.

There was a dark laugh, and the man threw back the hood of the cloak.

Matilda grabbed hold of the nearest piece of furniture as her knees threatened to give out. David Burton stood before them, all trace of the amiable, polite man she’d once considered marrying wiped from his features. This creature was something else entirely. He sneered as he turned his head and looked at her.

“What a surprise to find you here. I always knew it was him you wanted. You’d rather be a slut for a titled fool than married to a decent man.”