Page 21 of To Hunt the Hunter

“You dare come onto my property and slander my guests?” Lucian said before Matilda could speak.

He seemed utterly indifferent to the fact there was a deadly looking blade pointed at his heart.

“Mr Burton has a strange notion of what makes a man decent,” Matilda said, trying to deflect Burton’s attention from Lucian, as it was all too clear why he had come here.

She wondered if there was a chance the staff had heard her scream, but Lucian had dismissed them all and the walls of Dern were thick and ancient. No one would come.

“A guest, is she?” Burton said with a laugh. “That’s rich, and yes, I dare. You destroyed my life, so a little trespass seems the least I can do, though I’m afraid I shall have to cut your throat before I leave.”

He said it lightly, his conversational tone making the threat even more chilling.

“Lucian did not ruin you,” Matilda said with fury, desperate to figure out a way to give Lucian a chance. He had the wall at his back and nowhere to move, no weapon in sight. “You did it to yourself, the moment you treated those poor people with less respect than any decent person would give an animal.”

Mr Burton frowned a little. “Oh, you think that’s why I’m here? For revenge? Well, yes, there is satisfaction in killing him for that. I’ll admit it pleases me to repay him for everything I’ve lost. However, all will be restored to me once I am done, and this was always a part of the plan.”

“The plan?” Matilda echoed, wondering what on earth he was speaking about. She saw him flash a cocky grin at Lucian.

“Will you explain, or shall I? I don’t doubt you’ve worked it out by now.”

Lucian returned a look of sheer contempt and Burton chuckled. “Rather amusing really, when you think of it. If not for your interest in this pretty bit of goods, your uncle would never have contacted me. The scandal rags were full of it, though, and you know how your uncle loves gossip. He had them sent to India, where he read how the lowborn mushroom from up north and the marquess were vying for the same female. He took an interest in the story and lent me a helping hand. When he learned more about the man I was, he was pleased to find one ruthless enough to take what he wants.”

“Yes, and one about as trustworthy as he is, by my reckoning,” Lucian remarked, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms. He looked perfectly at ease, only the dangerous glint in his eyes betraying any emotion. “Let me see if I have this straight. My uncle told you how to get into Dern unseen, about the hidden tunnel to the library. I admit, I did not believe he knew about that one. My father kept such things between himself and his sons, but somehow he discovered it, and drew you a pretty map so you can put a period to my life. Happy Theodore then inherits the title. In return for this service, he has promised to restore your fortunes and your reputation, to help elevate you among the nobility. He’ll introduce you to the right people and get you into all the right places, even help you find a worthy bride, now Miss Hunt has seen sense and refused to have you. Do stop me if I’m wrong.”

“No, no, carry on,” Burton said with a smile that made Matilda’s heart stutter with fear. She could not believe the two of them were standing about discussing Lucian’s death in such a bloodless manner.

Lucian made a low sound of amusement. “There is a minor flaw in that plan, I’m afraid.”

“Oh?” Burton said, raising one dark eyebrow.

“Yes,” Lucian said, the faintest trace of a smile touching his lips. “My uncle is a liar.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that, my lord, I’ll see he keeps his word.”

Matilda shivered at the laughter in his voice, but Lucian just stared at him, that not-quite-smile still at his lips.

“You don’t have the slightest idea what you’ve gotten mixed up in, you poor fool. You’re just a pawn. Expendable. If you succeed, he’ll have you hanged for my murder, and his sincere outpouring of grief will be worthy of a Greek tragedy. You’ll not get out of this alive, I promise you. Unless you leave now. Do that, and I’ll even give you a five minute head start before I raise the alarm. My word as a gentleman.”

“Sorry, old man,” Burton said, mocking Lucian’s accent. “I’m afraid I can’t do it.”

“No,” Lucian said, his voice growing colder, dripping condescension. “You long to be one of us, don’t you? Yet you don’t have the first idea of what it means to be a gentleman because you’re an ignorant pleb. You’ll cut my throat because you are too paltry a human being to act like a man. A gentleman would duel with honour, the better man left standing. You….” he said, a world of disgust and generations of breeding loading that one word with unutterable scorn. “You don’t have the guts for it, you white-livered scum.”

Matilda watched with her heart in her throat, wondering what on earth Lucian was playing at, goading him so savagely. She expected at any moment that Burton would lash out and kill him where he stood, except that she saw now that Lucian’s words had been calculated with vicious precision, to give himself the only chance he had. He was taunting Burton on purpose with the thing most likely to rile him, his lack of breeding.

“Pistols at dawn?” Burton said, shaking his head, though the desire for retribution shone in his eyes. “Oh, no. Any fool can get lucky with a bullet.”

Lucian waved a negligent hand, as if this was a mere detail. “Swords then, as in the days of my forebears.”

“You think you can beat me, with your prancing about at Angelo’s?” Burton waved the knife at Lucian as Matilda felt a cold bead of sweat slither down her spine. “You don’t know what a fight is, milk-sop. Where I grew up, we had to fight for our bloody lives, not mince around with sharp little sticks, poking holes in each other in some fancy club. And don’t go assuming I don’t know how to hold a sword, for you’ll not have time to be sorry for it. You wouldn’t last five minutes in a proper fight.”

“Then you’ll walk away with honour and not a scratch upon your person,” Lucian said easily. “Prove to me how worthy you are. Teach me to respect you at the tip of a sword. Make the Marquess of Montagu kneel to the better man. I dare you.”

Matilda closed her eyes. She had heard the phrase so often over the past years, and no matter how shocking and risky the dares had been, no one had ever been in serious danger. Hearing those words now, in this context, she felt sick to her stomach. This was not a dare to kiss a stranger, to dance under the moonlight in a garden. This was life or death, yet it was the only chance Lucian had to escape this madman’s plans.

She wondered with terror what Lucian’s chances were. Mr Burton seemed transformed into something rough and brutal, a man who would kill without a moment’s remorse. Lucian was a touch taller but not so heavily built, and so Burton seemed to be the obvious choice to come out the victor. Lucian was sophisticated and elegant, too well bred for this manner of confrontation. Wildly she looked about the room, searching for something she might use as a weapon.

A bronze figurine about ten inches high caught her attention. It had a heavy marble base. Breathing hard, she inched backwards, but she’d barely made it a foot before Mr Burton noticed. He swung around and grabbed hold of her wrist, pulling her to him and pressing the knife to the delicate skin of her neck. A scream died in her throat, her fear so overwhelming she was too terrified to even breathe.

“No!” Lucian shouted, holding his hands out. “It’s me you want, me you came for. Miss Hunt is innocent in this. She never betrayed you. She is not here for me but for my niece, Phoebe. Miss Hunt loves the child and wanted to assure herself of her wellbeing. She won’t have me, Burton. She won’t be my mistress, though I’ve tried my damndest to entice her, I assure you. She’s too good for either of us.”