To Hunt the Hunter (Girls Who Dare Book 11)

by Emma V. Leech

  They looked up as the door opened and a small, thin man with a serious face and spectacles came out, clutching a sheaf of papers.

  “What is he doing with Uncle?” Phoebe demanded, her voice shrill with anxiety.

  The man frowned at Phoebe as he closed the door quietly behind him. “His lordship had some business he needed taken care of. Nothing to trouble yourself over, child.”

  Phoebe turned to Matilda, her eyes reflecting all the terror that Matilda was feeling as Phoebe voiced the question she’d not let herself consider. “What business does he need to do at such a moment, if he’s hurt? What are those papers?”

  Before Matilda or anyone else could halt her, Phoebe darted past the man and yanked open the door, running into her uncle’s bedroom. Matilda knew damn well she ought not follow, but her reputation was likely past saving, and she cared little for it in this moment. Lucian was all that mattered. She followed Phoebe in, watching as the girl threw herself upon the bed, making Lucian suck in a sharp breath.

  “Uncle!” she cried as Lucian held out the arm on his uninjured side.

  “It’s all right, sweetheart,” he said, though he looked horribly pale and sounded exhausted. “Don’t fret. Pippin is taking excellent care of me.”

  “B-But what happened? What is that bandage for?”

  “I fought a duel,” Lucian said solemnly, watching with amusement as Phoebe’s expression lit up with awe.

  “With pistols?” she asked, frowning.

  Lucian shook his head. “A sword fight.”

  “Then why are you hurt?” she demanded, clearly knowing her uncle’s skill, for her scorn at him being injured in such a way was evident.

  “No, love. I won the duel, but the blackguard shot me in the back. Got me in the shoulder.”

  “The scoundrel!” Phoebe cried in fury. “But if you knew he was a blackguard, why on earth did you turn your back on him? That was very silly of you!”

  Lucian hugged her tighter.

  “I know, Phoebe,” he said, his voice catching. “It was. Extremely silly, and I’m sorry for it.”

  Matilda looked away, afraid she would cry herself, and instead moved towards Mrs Appleton.

  “Will he be all right?”

  The woman’s face was set, her voice firm. “The wound is clean, the bullet went straight though and didn’t hit bone, praise be. He’s weary now from the blood loss, but it’s the infection that we’ve to worry about. I’ll give him a tot of laudanum, though he’ll kick up about it, I’ve no doubt. Makes him sick, but he’s in a lot of pain. Not that he’d let you know it.” Mrs Appleton gave her a direct look, full of curiosity. “He’ll need a deal of nursing. Likely you’ll want to get off back home, as he won’t be fit for entertaining guests for some weeks by my reckoning.”

  Matilda stiffened, wondering if Mrs Appleton thought to send her packing. Over her dead body. “No. He needs to be taken care of. He needs me and I’m going nowhere,” Matilda said, glaring at her. “Not until he’s well enough to tell me to go himself, at any rate.”

  To Matilda’s surprise, the cook’s face softened at once, approval warming her eyes.

  “Aye, thought I had you pegged right. Well, you need not worry that anyone will find out about it. We know how to keep secrets at Dern, Miss Hunt.”

  Matilda gave a rueful smile, touched by the woman’s support. “I suspect Mr Burton will take care of that.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t bank on it, miss. The staff here are loyal and they’re none too pleased at tonight’s piece of work. I reckon if Mr Burton wants to see that doctor his lordship sent for, he’ll have to agree to keep his damn mouth shut.”

  Matilda stared in astonishment, and Mrs Appleton laughed.

  “Oh, we know his lordship’s reputation, and it’s not all talk. A right devil he can be when he puts his mind to it, but there’s a good heart in there, which is a miraculous thing after all he’s endured. He treats all the staff fairly, the pay’s good and most of them enjoy his reputation. Adds a touch of swagger to their own lives, I reckon. Anyway, he’s our devil and this attack in his own home… well, they’re ready to lynch someone, I can tell you.”

  “They wouldn’t….” Matilda began, alarmed even though she cared little what befell Mr Burton now.

  “No,” Mrs Appleton said grimly. “But only because he forbade it. The fiend is to be taken to the nearest inn, and a doctor provided at his lordship’s expense. Honour must be served, Miss Hunt.”

  Her dry tone and the look in the woman’s eyes told Matilda that her thoughts on the male code of honour were many and varied, but she said nothing more.

  “Pippin.”

  They both looked around as Lucian called out wearily.

  “Phoebe needs to go to bed now,” he said, though Phoebe’s arms tightened around his neck at his words. “Send for Miss Peabody.”

  Matilda watched as the woman hurried to the door and stuck her head outside to talk in a hushed voice to Denton, who must have been standing sentry.

  “I don’t want to go.”

  Phoebe’s muffled voice emerged from Lucian’s neck and he stroked her hair. His face was white and taut with pain, and Matilda realised it must be costing him dearly to keep up a brave face in front of the child.

  “I know, sweetheart, but we both need some rest now.”

  The child let out a sob.

  “Don’t die,” she pleaded. “Please, please… don’t die. Don’t leave me by myself. Promise me.”

  Lucian closed his eyes and held the girl to him, his grip on her tightening. “I promise to do my very best to grow to be a very old man. It will take me that long to make you into a well-behaved lady, after all.”

  Phoebe sobbed harder and Matilda’s heart ached, a lump in her throat so large she could barely swallow. Lucian looked up at her, his breathing shallow now, a fine sheen of perspiration across his forehead. Forcing herself to remain calm, she moved to the bed and put her hands on Phoebe’s shoulders.

  “Come along now, darling,” she said gently. “Your uncle needs his rest if he’s to get well, and you must be worn out too. Everyone needs a good night’s sleep to get over all the upset. I promise you I shall take very good care of him while you’re sleeping.”

  Phoebe turned her head, staring up at Matilda, her blonde eyelashes spangled with tears. “You’ll stay and look after him? Until he’s well again?”

  “Matilda,” Lucian began, his voice faint but full of protest. “You know you can’t—”

  “Yes,” Matilda said firmly. “I will stay until he’s well again. I promise.”

  Phoebe let out a ragged breath.

  “Well, if you will be with him as well as Pippin,” she said, still reluctant, “I suppose I could go to sleep for a little while. I know you’ll not let anything bad happen to him.”

  Matilda smiled, too choked to reply as Phoebe kissed her uncle’s cheek. “Good night. Get better quickly, please.”

  “Good night, sweetheart.”

  Matilda helped Phoebe off the bed and took her to the door to discover Miss Peabody waiting for her. Matilda hugged Phoebe, promised again that she would look after her uncle, and watched the child follow her governess back down the hall.

  Upon returning to the room, she discovered Mrs Appleton scowling down at Lucian.

  “You’ll take your medicine, my lord, if I have to prise your jaws open and tip it down myself.”

  Lucian glared at the woman and Matilda discovered herself relieved to see his iron will had not left him. That was a comfort.

  “I’m no longer five years old, Pippin, much as you might like to think it. I can manage quite well without….”

  His breath caught and his lips clamped shut, his body growing taut as he succumbed to the obvious pain he was in.

  “You were saying?” Mrs Appleton said, with an imperious lift of one eyebrow he could not have bettered himself.

  “Damn you, you interfering old—”

  “And you’ll keep a civil tongue in your he
ad, marquess or no, and in front of Miss Hunt too. What will she think of you, arguing with me like a sulky boy and not taking your medicine when you know I’m doing what’s best for you?”

  Lucian returned an arctic glare, but held his tongue as Mrs Appleton measured out a dose of laudanum.

  “Wait,” he said, huffing as Mrs Appleton gave him a warning glare. “I wish to speak to Miss Hunt in private before you dose me, you blasted tyrant. If I may?” he added tersely.

  “Five minutes,” the woman replied, giving him a stern wag of her finger. She moved towards Matilda on her way out, speaking in an undertone. “Don’t let him talk too long. He’s fighting the pain, but he’s wearing himself out. He must rest.”

  Matilda nodded and waited until she’d gone to sit beside Lucian, taking his hand in hers. He sighed, gazing at her under heavy-lidded eyes, exhaustion catching up with him.

  “Matilda,” he said, her name little more than a breath of sound.

  “I’m here.”

  He laughed softly. “I’m still having difficulty with that idea. Am I delirious with fever already? Did I dream you?”

  “No.” She raised his hand to her lips and pressed her mouth to his palm. “No,” she repeated against his skin, her voice cracking with emotion.

  “Say it again,” he said, his silver eyes intent, though a little too bright.

  She knew what he meant and laughed this time, or perhaps it had been a sob, a strange hiccoughing sound that caught in her throat. “I ought not.”

  “I know. Say it anyway.”

  She stared down at him and reached out with her free hand, cupping his face and stroking his cheek. “I love you.”

  He stared at her, happiness and bemusement tangled in his expression. “Why?”

  “Don’t,” she said as tears welled in her eyes. She shook her head. “I’ll tell you when you’re well.”

  He made a disgruntled sound and she kissed his palm again.

  “I’ve had papers drawn up,” he said, the turn in the conversation making her start. “If… If anything happens to me….”

  Matilda shook her head vehemently. She could not think of that.

  He smiled a little and squeezed the hand that held his.

  “I’m not so feeble as that, and I have no intention of going anywhere just yet, I assure you, but… but things happen. Life is… uncertain, and… he’ll try again, Matilda.”

  Matilda gave a sob and covered her mouth.

  “Don’t cry,” he said, tugging at her hand, drawing her down to lie beside him. She went, moving carefully, snuggling into his good side. “I need to tell you this, and Pippin will be back insisting on making me swallow that vile stuff, though it will make me sick as a dog. Please don’t stay to witness that, I beg of you.”

  Matilda shook her head. “I promised Phoebe. I don’t break promises, and I’ve nursed my father and Nate too, occasionally. Your sickbed holds no horrors I’ve not witnessed.”

  “You were not in love with them,” he said curtly. “Leave a man a little dignity.”

  Matilda propped herself on her elbow. “Not in love with them, no. But I loved them. That’s what you do when you love someone: you stick with them, no matter what, through thick and thin, whether it’s pretty or not.”

  He frowned and she stared down at him, feeling her love for him as a weight in her chest, expanding and filling her up.

  “It won’t change how I feel about you.”

  “Oh, yes,” he muttered. “I’m sure you’ll have many passionately romantic thoughts of me once you’ve seen me cast up my accounts.”

  Despite everything, she laughed at his indignation. “Oh, Lucian. My feelings are not so superficial as that. You’ve really no idea what it is to be loved, if you think such a thing could make the smallest change to my feelings.”

  “Perhaps I don’t,” he said with a sigh, his voice growing soft. “But I think I know what it is to love, or at least, I’m learning.”

  Matilda’s breath caught, but he stiffened, his face taut with pain.

  “Lucian, you need to take the laudanum.”

  “Not yet,” he gritted out. His breathing picked up, and he stared up at her, his eyes full of fear, glinting with a febrile intensity that frightened her. “Listen to me. I’ve made you Phoebe’s legal guardian. If… if anything happens to me, keep her away from my uncle, no matter what. Promise me, Matilda. I know it’s a great deal to ask, too much, but I do ask it. She’s all I’ve got, and I swore to protect her. Please, please, my love….”

  “Yes. Yes, of course,” Matilda said, alarmed at the sudden urgency with which he spoke and needing to calm him. “It would be an honour, Lucian, but I tell you now, you’re going nowhere. I shall never forgive you if you leave me in such a way. You can’t die. I won’t let you die, I-I w-won’t.” Her voice broke and Lucian held her to him, hushing her softly.

  “Thank you.” The tension left his body all at once. “Thank you so much. You have no idea—”

  “Yes, I do,” she sobbed. “I know how much you love her, like she was your own daughter, and I shall love her like my own too. I do already, you foolish man. Surely you know that?”

  “Yes,” he said, and she heard the smile in his voice. “And this is how you ruined yourself all those years ago, by acting selflessly, by plunging ahead to grant the wishes of those you loved, heedless of the cost to yourself.”

  “Sometimes that is the price love commands, Lucian. If you are not prepared to pay it, it is not love at all.”

  “My God, you are brave.” He stared up at her in wonder. “I’ve never met anyone else like you in all my life.”

  “How lucky you’ve been,” she said, trying to smile at him, but he was closing his eyes now, his breathing uneven and a fine tremor running through his body. “Lucian?”

  He didn’t answer, and the shivering persisted. Afraid now, Matilda slid from the bed.

  “Mrs Appleton!” she called, relieved when the woman opened the door at once and hurried to his bedside. “Is it fever?” she asked anxiously as the woman laid her hand upon Lucian’s forehead.

  “No, not yet,” the woman replied, her voice soothing. “That will take a while to set in. This is his body protesting all that’s been done to it.” She reached for the small glass into which she’d measured a dose of laudanum and sat beside Lucian, sliding her arm beneath his neck and raising his head a little. “Come now, my boy. Take this and get some rest.”

  “Pippin,” he protested, her name spoken fretfully.

  “Ah, do as you’re told now, Lucian, for your old Pippin, there’s a good lad.”

  He huffed, but swallowed the mixture with a grimace and a muttered curse. “Matilda.”

  “She’s here,” Mrs Appleton assured him, settling him back against the pillows. “Lucky fellow, aren’t you, to have such a pretty nurse?”

  “She ought not….” he said, his breathing picking up.

  Mrs Appleton gave a soft laugh. “I don’t think she’s the sort you can order about, my lord. Reckon she’ll just dig her heels in all the harder. I like her,” she added, patting his hand. “Now get some sleep and stop fretting. There’s nothing for you to worry about. Phoebe is safe and Miss Hunt is here. All is well.”

  Matilda watched as Lucian subsided, sliding into unconsciousness.

  “Well, then,” Mrs Appleton said with a sigh. “If I were you, I’d go and get washed and have a couple of hours sleep, at least. It will likely be a long few days if you mean to stay by him.”

  “Oh, but Mrs Appleton….” Matilda protested, hating the idea of leaving him at all.

  “Away with you,” she said sharply. “If you mean to be of any help to me, you must be well rested, and you’ve had a nasty shock too. I’ll stay by him, but he’ll sleep peacefully now, so you do the same. I’ll fetch you if there’s any change. My word upon it.”

  “You promise?” Matilda said reluctantly.

  “I do, and none of this ‘Mrs Appleton’ business. It’s Pippin to the
family, and it seems you’re a part of it now.”

  Matilda blinked hard and swallowed, uncertain of what to say.

  “There, there,” Pippin said softly, moving to Matilda and giving her a hug. “He’ll be fine, my word upon it. We can only hope such a close shave to the almighty makes him realise the living are who we must live our lives with; the dead have had their turn.” She gave Matilda an approving look. “He could do with a woman like you at his side, but hopefully he’ll come to that in his own time. He never could be told anything, that’s for certain. Stubborn devil.”

  She laughed at the astonishment in Matilda’s eyes and took her arm, guiding her to the door. “Yes, I know. I’m a deal too free with my opinions. Believe me, you’re not the first to have remarked it, nor will you be the last. Now, run along and get some rest. I shall expect you to take over in the morning.”

  Dismissed, Matilda found herself standing on the other side of Lucian’s door. Too numb to do otherwise, she moved along the corridor, noting for the first time how close her room was to his. She went inside to find Sarah waiting for her. The maid ran at her and flung her arms about her, and Matilda just stood there clutching her in return.

  “Oh, miss. Is it true? His lordship’s been shot?”

  Matilda let Sarah go and stepped back, and Sarah gave a little shriek as she saw Matilda’s hands. Lifting them to her face, she saw that they were still covered with Lucian’s blood, her blue gown stained with it. The sob caught in her throat and Sarah hugged her again, tighter and tighter as Matilda broke down.

  Dimly, she was aware of Sarah undressing her, helping her wash the blood from her hands and face, and guiding her into bed. Despite her fatigue and the exhaustion that tugged at her mind, it took her a long while to find sleep and, when she did, dreams of glittering swords and villains plagued her through the darkness.

  Chapter 9