Page 44 of To Hunt the Hunter

Mr Knight nodded. “Much as I’d like to bring you good news—after all, I feel responsible for letting the wretch slip through my fingers—well, the word is that you set the whole thing up. That the reports about the state of the mills in Derbyshire was pure fabrication. The story goes that you slandered Burton because of his interest in Miss Hunt here, and… and that when he came to plead with you to leave him be….”

“I cut him down in cold blood, no doubt?”

Matilda’s heart clenched at his icy tone. Here was Montagu in full panoply. She could see the mask slide into place, the change in him sharp edged and vivid. He seemed utterly indifferent to the news they’d brought him when she knew it must hurt him deeply.

Mr Knight nodded. “They say he’s crippled after your little run-in. I don’t know if that’s true, or more wishful thinking by the gossip mill. After all, we heard he was dead two days ago, but that rumour seems to have been scotched, at least.”

“What did happen?” Helena asked, looking to Matilda, not Lucian. “Were you here?”

Matilda nodded and reached out to Lucian, wanting to take his hand, but he moved it away. She sighed, knowing why he did it. Not to be thwarted, she reached farther across and took it anyway, twining their fingers together. Lucian glared at her and then sighed, closing his eyes, holding on tight.

“I knew something was very wrong, that Lucian’s uncle was up to something, and so I came here, to Dern, to discover the truth.”

“Foolish creature,” Lucian muttered, but with affection this time.

Helena looked between them, her expression one of rapt fascination. Matilda blushed, but carried on.

“His uncle is a monster,” she said bluntly, and with such force they could not dispute her feeling on the matter. “I cannot tell Lucian’s story for him, but he has been greatly wronged by that dreadful, wicked man. Theodore Barrington sent Mr Burton here to murder his nephew so he could claim the title. It was not his uncle’s first attempt, I might add. It was only Lucian’s cleverness and skill that saved us both from having our throats cut, and he nearly died anyway, because that vile man hasn’t a scrap of honour.”

Her voice trembled and she took a breath, trying to compose herself. She looked up to find Lucian’s eyes upon her, shining with adoration, and could not help but smile. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.

Matilda glanced back at Helena and her husband to find both of them gawking in astonishment. Mr Knight gathered himself first.

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “I came to see what we could do. The thing is, the story being circulated is that the vile conditions in Burton’s mills was nothing but a fabrication. Now, that in itself should be easy enough to prove. We need only send some representatives of the press to interview those involved….”

“We?” Lucian said, staring at Mr Knight with suspicion. “Why would you involve yourself in this?”

Mr Knight frowned, nonplussed. “Because it isn’t true. You’ve been slandered and I know it.”

“And so?” Lucian pressed, looking truly bewildered.

“And so,” Mr Knight said cautiously, “I shall help you clear your name.”

Matilda watched as Lucian’s face cleared. He nodded.

“I see. The usual terms, I suppose?”

Mr Knight frowned. “Terms? No… No. I… I don’t want anything. There will be no debt, no payment.”

Lucian looked more bewildered than ever, and rather suspicious. “Why not?”

“Oh, Lucian,” Matilda said helplessly. “He wants to help you, love, because it’s the right thing to do. Because he’d be your friend, if you’d let him.”

Lucian stared at Matilda, then Mr Knight, and then looked away, still frowning and uncertain.

“We can trust them, Lucian.”

His grip on her hand tightened, but he said nothing. How impossible it must be to accept that someone was on his side after so many years of being isolated by his uncle, trusting no one whilst he was painted as a cold-hearted devil. She wondered how he had survived, how his heart hadn’t shrivelled and died when he’d had no friends, no one to trust beyond Pippin and Denton and Mrs Frant. Thank God Phoebe had arrived in his life.

Mr Knight cleared his throat. “I had been thinking the ideal thing would be for you to go to Derbyshire yourself to speak with the press in person. I have contacts with several men who’d kill for the story. You did an admirable job of hiding your light under a bushel, but modesty is doing you no favours now. People need to know of everything you did there to help those who were injured, and to put things to rights. Of course, I didn’t know that you’d been shot, so that rather puts paid to that idea.”

“No,” Lucian said, shaking his head. “It doesn’t. You’re right. I must go.”

“Oh, Lucian, how can you think it?” Matilda protested. “That’s at least three days travel on bad roads. You barely made it down the stairs!”

He stiffened and Matilda’s temper overrode good sense.

“Oh, damn your pride! Blast you, Lucian! Mr Knight does not think you any less a man for being injured by a bloody bullet! Will you undo all mine and Pippin’s work in nursing you, you obstinate creature?”