Page 92 of To Hunt the Hunter

“Then we must set a good example.”

“Yes,” he said, smiling at her. “We must.”

And then he kissed her.

Chapter 24

My dearest Prue,

It was so lovely to see you and your beautiful daughter last week. How proud Bedwin looked too. The little dab has him wrapped about her finger already, the clever girl.

I just had to write and tell you how much I am enjoying The Eagle and the Lamb. I have cried buckets and fallen profoundly in love with the hero. For heaven’s sake do not tell Jerome or he’ll be dreadfully cross. All the ton is abuzz with it, not to mention the entire world. I heard the servants discussing it this morning. The kitchen maids were all a-flutter, swooning over the icy marquess whose heart was melted by the lamb. I believe there will be quite a crowd outside St George’s tomorrow. It will be the wedding of the century and no mistake. The world has fallen in head over ears in love with Montagu and Matilda, and cannot wait to see their happy ending.

―Excerpt of a letter from Mrs Bonnie Cadogan to Her Grace Prunella Adolphus, Duchess of Bedwin.

19th June 1815. St George’s Church, Hanover Square.

“Good Lord, this crowd is ridiculous,” Nate complained, craning his neck to see the road ahead out of the window. “At this rate the eagle will not get a look at his lamb until sometime next week.”

Matilda blushed a little at the reference to Prue’s outrageously romantic book, which had sold in its thousands the moment the first chapters had published. It was being released in instalments and the anticipation of the happy ending in tandem with a real life wedding had caused quite a furore.

The eagle was a thinly disguised version of Lucian, and referred to the Montagu crest of an eagle with wings outstretched. Matilda had protested somewhat at being compared to a lamb. Prue, however, had assured her that the imagery was necessary to capture the audience’s heart and that the lamb would be proven to have the heart of a lioness as the story progressed. She’d been correct, of course, and Matilda was overwhelmed by her newfound celebrity. Everyone wanted to know her, and in truth it was becoming a little tiresome. She longed for Dern, for the peace and tranquillity of the beautiful countryside, and for her life with Lucian to begin.

She had been bitterly disappointed when Lucian had refused to buy a special licence, determined that they should conduct the marriage just as it ought to be done. He was insistent that they would be married in the full view of the ton, with no hint of embarrassment or anything rushed or hidden. When he had told her he wanted the world to see how much he loved and admired her, all her arguments had evaporated. Although the month he had forced her to endure in waiting had been excruciating, she was glad that they had. Through his efforts, his public display the night of the ball, and Prue’s beautiful story, her reputation had been restored to her. They had become society darlings, their presence sought at every event, their names on everyone’s lips, and their likenesses in every print shop window.

Phoebe had begged for one particular image that Lucian had gone into a print shop himself and bought for her, much to the delight of the scandal sheets. It depicted him down on one knee, with Matilda falling into a swoon. Meanwhile Phoebe dangled precariously over the edge of the balustrade shouting encouragement whilst Pippin held her by the ankles. Phoebe was enchanted with the image and had immediately pasted it to the wall behind her bed.

At long last the carriage rocked to a stop outside St George’s having fought its way through the crowds. The door was opened, and Nate got down, holding out his hand to her.

“We’re late,” he said, looking far too pleased about that. “Montagu will think you’ve changed your mind.”

“No, he won’t,” Matilda retorted, giving Nate a warning glare that instructed him to be nice.

Whatever Nate might have said in reply was drowned out by the swell of cheers from the crowds gathered outside the church when they caught their first glimpse of her. People were waving prints of her and Lucian, and shouting encouragement, and Matilda laughed, shaking her head in wonder.

“They’re all barking mad,” her brother complained, helping her with the voluminous train on her gown as their footmen made a path through. Finally, they made it under the grand portico supported by its six Corinthian columns and to the doors of the church.

“Well, then,” Nate said, as a swell of music could be heard from inside. “Last chance to change your mind.”

Matilda sighed and kissed his cheek. “No, thank you, Nate. I should very much like to get married now.”

“Oh, very well,” her brother said with a heavy sigh. “If you insist. It’s about time the fellow took you off my hands.”

Matilda resisted the urge to kick him as he moved forward, and her heart thudded with excitement. She was going to marry Lucian. It was happening, and she could not wait.

***

Lucian looked at his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. “She’s late.”

Gabriel gave him an amused grin and shook his head. “Bride’s prerogative, isn’t it?” he said mildly and then laughed. “Don’t panic. The world and his wife has descended on Hanover Square this morning. The carriage will be struggling to get through.”

“That ought to have been accounted for,” Lucian muttered darkly, knowing he sounded like a sulky boy, but he had waited about as long as his nerves could stand. An entire month was enough for any man to endure, another five minutes and he would lose any semblance of his legendary composure for good. His best man wasn’t helping particularly, seeming to take great delight in Lucian’s inability to hide his nerves.

Lucian cast another surreptitious glance at his watch before slipping it back in his pocket. He looked up to see Gabe casting him a pitying smile.

“Friends are greatly overrated,” he said, folding his arms.

Gabe just chuckled and handed him a small silver flask.