Mr. Hunt, I Presume: A Playful Brides Story Read online

  Mr. Hunt, I Presume

  A Playful Brides Story

  Valerie Bowman

  June Third Enterprises, LLC

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Mr. Hunt, I Presume, copyright © 2019 by June Third Enterprises, LLC.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Print edition ISBN: 978-0-9893758-2-5

  Digital edition ISBN: 978-0-9893758-1-8

  Book Cover Design © Lyndsey Lewellen at Llewellen Designs.

  For my aunt, Susan Hammond Spitz, who is also a writer and a fantastic wit. With love.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to Shelby Reed, Kim Kenealy, and Candice Davis for helping make this book the best it could be.

  Contents

  1. Chapter One

  2. Chapter Two

  3. Chapter Three

  4. Chapter Four

  5. Chapter Five

  6. Chapter Six

  7. Chapter Seven

  8. Chapter Eight

  9. Chapter Nine

  10. Chapter Ten

  11. Chapter Eleven

  12. Chapter Twelve

  13. Chapter Thirteen

  14. Chapter Fourteen

  15. Chapter Fifteen

  16. Chapter Sixteen

  17. Chapter Seventeen

  18. Chapter Eighteen

  19. Chapter Nineteen

  20. Chapter Twenty

  21. Chapter Twenty-One

  22. Chapter Twenty-Two

  Also by Valerie Bowman

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Coming Soon

  A Duke Like No Other - Chapter One

  Chapter One

  London, August 1824

  Lucy Hunt stared at the looming stack of letters that sat on the writing desk in front of her. She shook her head. “How in the world am I to go through all of these?”

  Her husband, Derek, the Duke of Claringdon, strolled up behind her to peer over her shoulder. “What are they?”

  “Inquiries for employment. There must be a hundred of them.”

  “For the governess position?” Derek asked.

  “Yes. I’m quite overwhelmed.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll help you choose some to meet with.” He cleared his throat and picked up the first sheet of vellum from the stack. “Mrs. Harriet Kindlewood. Previously employed for fifty years by the Marquess of Dorset.”

  “Fifty years?” Lucy exclaimed. “Why the poor woman must be at least seventy! She should be pensioned off by now.”

  Discarding the first letter, Derek picked up the next one. “Miss Patience Horville. Clean, punctual, not afraid to discipline unruly children no matter how young.”

  Lucy shuddered. “Ralph and Mary are only two and three. I’m not certain how much discipline they need. Besides, I’ve found that when someone has a name such as Patience, she usually has none of it.”

  “At least she’s clean and punctual,” Derek replied with a laugh.

  Lucy sat back and blew out a breath. “Be serious, Derek. I’ve been at my wits’ end since Miss Langley left. She was such an excellent governess.”

  Derek pressed his lips together. “Yes. It’s a pity she had to go fall in love and get married.”

  Lucy crossed her arms over her chest and arched her brow to return his stare. “It’s not a pity at all. I played a significant role in making her match with Mr. Benton. It’s only a pity that she had to move away and leave us.”

  A smile crept to Derek’s face. “Perhaps if you and Delilah Montebank weren’t always trying to matchmake everyone, we would have a governess with a longer tenure. Where did all these letters come from, at any rate?”

  “I asked all my friends for references, but none of them had anyone. Hence, I reached out to Mrs. Griggs’s employment office. Her services come highly recommended.”

  “There’s no help for it then,” Derek replied. “We’ll just have to go through all of these and pick a few to meet with.”

  With a sigh, Lucy grabbed the next letter from the top and read it aloud. “Miss Erienne Stone, formerly of Brighton, currently of London. Gently reared woman seeks position as governess. Able to teach reading, writing, and maths as well as French, history, and globes. Trained in music, art, needlework, and deportment. Caring and kind. Strict when necessary. Excellent references available.”

  “Erienne Stone?” Derek frowned. “Did you say formerly of Brighton?”

  “Yes.” Lucy lowered the paper to the desk. “You don’t know her, do you?” Derek had been born and raised in Brighton before he’d gone into his majesty’s army and rose through the ranks to fight at Waterloo. He’d been made a duke for his efforts.

  “It must be a coincidence,” he replied, shaking his head.

  “How did you know her?” Lucy asked.

  “She was the daughter of a knight. Sir Robert Stone. She grew up with us. Only she was of a much better stature than my poor family.”

  “Was she kind to you? She didn’t look down upon you, did she?” Lucy asked.

  “To the contrary. In fact, she and Collin…” Derek’s voice drifted off. He rubbed his chin as if deep in thought. “Nevermind. It cannot possibly be the same woman. She would have to be at least thirty years old by now, and at any rate, I’m almost certain the Miss Stone I knew married well and moved to Shropsbury.”

  Lucy’s different-colored eyes sparkled. “Wait a moment. What were you going to say? About she and Collin?”

  Collin was Derek’s middle brother. The two of them, along with their youngest brother, Adam, had grown up the sons of an army veteran who insisted all three boys join the military. Derek and Collin had actually enjoyed it. Even after the wars ended, Collin, who had been a spy for the War Office, had remained in the army and was now a general. Adam, however, was currently happily employed as a publisher and even more happily married to his wife, Cecelia. But Collin was a confirmed bachelor at the age of five and thirty, which drove Lucy, a dedicated matchmaker, a bit mad.

  “I wasn’t going to say anything about Miss Stone and Collin,” Derek replied in a guarded tone. “They courted, I think. It was nothing serious.”

  Lucy widened her eyes. “They courted? Are you quite serious? I’ve never known Collin to court anyone.” She snatched up the letter from Miss Stone and stared at it anew. Her brow furrowed. “Wait a moment! This isn’t the same woman who …”

  “What?”

  Lucy tapped her cheek, desperately trying to remember details of a conversation that had taken place many years ago. “I asked Collin once why he seemed so bent on refusing to marry.”

  “He didn’t answer you, did he?” Derek paced toward the fireplace, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “On the contrary, he was quite deep in his cups that evening, which is rare for Collin, and which is also why I sought him out and asked him that particular question on that particular evening.”

  Derek shook his head and gave his wife a vague grin as if she was perfectly incorrigible. “Because you thought you’d have a better chance of getting a response from him?”

  “Precisely,” Lucy said. “And an honest one.”

  Derek chuckled. “What did he say?”

  “He said there
was only ever one woman he’d loved. One woman in Brighton, someone he’d known as a lad.” Lucy squinted into the distance and pressed the letter to her chest. “He told me she married. I assumed she’d broken his heart.”

  “Lucy.” A note of warning sounded in Derek’s deep voice. He stopped his pacing near her chair and dipped his head to meet her gaze. “Don’t you dare even think about it.”

  “Think about what?” Lucy stuck her nose in the air and blinked at him innocently. Several times.

  “You know precisely what you’re thinking about,” Derek replied. “Regardless, it doesn’t matter. I’m certain this cannot be the same young woman I knew in Brighton. Perhaps it’s a niece who’s named after her.”

  “Perhaps.” But Lucy was already pulling out a blank sheet of vellum to write back to Mrs. Griggs’s employment office.

  Hughes, the butler, entered the room and cleared his throat. “Your grace,” he said to Derek, “you have a visitor. Lord Swifdon has arrived.”

  “Ah, yes,” Derek replied. “Show Julian to my study. I’ll be there momentarily.”

  The butler bowed and left the room.

  “I’m going to visit with Julian now, Lucy,” Derek said firmly as he started for the door. “Please promise me you’re not going to employ a governess for the care of our children because you think she may have known Collin in the past.”

  Lucy dipped her quill into the inkpot that sat on the far side of her desk. “I don’t intend to do anything of the sort.”

  “Good.” Derek paused at the threshold. “I’ll help you look at the rest of the letters later.”

  “Thank you, darling,” Lucy said, already bent over the vellum, scribbling.

  Derek flashed her one last, doubtful look as he strode from the room, and a satisfied smile immediately spread across Lucy’s face in his wake. She had no intention of hiring the woman based on the woman’s past relationship with Collin, but it certainly couldn’t hurt to find out if she was the same young woman in question, could it?

  Lucy bent back over her paper and wrote a short missive to Mrs. Griggs, asking the woman to arrange an interview three days hence with one Miss Erienne Stone, formerly of Brighton.

  Chapter Two

  Collin Hunt crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his commanding officer, Lord Treadway. “You’re forcing me to leave?”

  “I’m forcing you to go on holiday. I don’t care what you do for the next fortnight, but you won’t be working.” Treadway reared back in his seat and gave Collin a hard look. “You’ve been at it nonstop without so much as a day off for years now. It’s time you had a break, Hunt.”

  Collin smoothed a hand down the front of his woolen uniform. He paced away, then turned to frown at Treadway. “Is it because I snapped at Cooper?”

  “Cooper, Martin, and Atwell by my count.” Treadway arched a brow. “Not to mention the incident with Lord Benning last week.”

  Collin clenched a fist. “Damn it, Treadway, you know why—”

  “He was wrong. I’m well aware of it. I agree with you, but you must admit the way you handled it left something to be desired. You need a break, Hunt. And that is an order.”

  “I don’t want a break.” The declaration came out of Collin’s mouth through clenched teeth.

  “I don’t care,” came Treadway’s droll reply. “Now leave my office and this building. I don’t want to see you again until after the first of September.”

  “As you wish, sir.” Ever the soldier, Collin clicked his heels together, saluted his commanding officer, pivoted sharply, and marched out of the office. He turned right toward his own office instead of left toward the building’s exit.

  “Hunt!” came Treadway’s voice from behind his desk, as though the man could see through the walls. He knew Collin too well. “Do not stop at your office and get paperwork. Leave. Now!”

  Damn it. Collin turned once again and marched past Treadway’s open door in the opposite direction, refusing to spare the man another glance.

  Jamming his hands in the pockets of his coat, Collin left the building and walked toward St. James, where his apartments were located. For once, he strode with his head down, staring at the sidewalk, lost in thought. A bloody fortnight? Without working? He’d never be able to stand it. He’d been serving his majesty in the royal army since he was a lad of sixteen. He’d fought in the wars, rescued prisoners, and foiled plots against the government while working as a spy. Now he was a general assigned to the Home Office. And while the paperwork he was forced to do these days was not nearly as exciting as his time on the Continent, fighting Napoleon’s best, he still felt as if he was making a difference, protecting and defending his country. Something his family had essentially dedicated their lives to. Even Adam used his printing press to further the cause of the military and recruit new soldiers.

  Collin scrubbed a palm against the back of his neck and kicked at a stone in the dusty roadway. A fortnight without working? Was that possible? Who was he without his work? More importantly, what in the bloody hell was he supposed to do? He could go to Brighton and visit his mother. She would like that.

  But Brighton brought back memories he didn’t relish, and he could only be in his mother’s company for so long. She tended to talk incessantly and ask him repeatedly when he meant to settle down and produce grandchildren. It didn’t matter that his brother Derek already had two children, Mary and Ralph, while Adam had two sons, Frederick and Allan. Mothers had a habit of wanting grandchildren from all of their offspring.

  Collin was already in a foul mood. Visiting Mother and being nagged wouldn’t help his disposition. No, he had to find something else to do. A holiday, Treadway had said. What, take the waters in Bath? Collin would be bored stiff. Travel to Dover and take a packet to Calais? He’d seen plenty of France during the wars, thank you very much.

  There was only one thing he could think to do. Only one thing that wouldn’t drive him completely mad. His brother Derek, the duke, usually retired to his country estate this time of year. The house was large and comfortable. Collin adored his niece and nephew, and was quite fond of his sprightly sister-in-law, Lucy. He appreciated his older brother’s company and wise counsel. Besides, Derek was always up for talking about politics. At least Collin would be able to enjoy that, even if he couldn’t do actual work.

  Turning onto St. James Street, he made his way to the building that led up to his second-floor apartments, opened the door, and jogged up the stairs. He pulled his key from his inside coat pocket and blew out a deep breath. Fine. He had little choice. He would take a bloody holiday, at Derek’s country house.

  Chapter Three

  Erienne Stone smoothed a hand over her middle, took a deep breath, and lifted her other gloved fist to employ the brass knocker that rested on the front door of The Duke of Claringdon’s town house.

  She hadn’t expected to be chosen for an interview for this particular position, and now that she was here, staring at the black-lacquered entrance of the imposing town house, her insides were a mass of nerves. She briefly considered turning and hurrying all the way back to Mrs. Griggs’s offices.

  Mrs. Griggs was a nice, efficient woman, and she’d promised Erienne she would help her find suitable work as a governess, but Erienne had no clue the lady would submit her credentials to the illustrious Duke of Claringdon’s household.

  Erienne’s last place of employment had been in Shropsbury, taking care of two darling children for Baron Hilltop, a friend of her father’s. It had been a lovely time, the last fourteen years, but the children had grown up, as children tend to do. Lady Hilltop had tried to assist Erienne in finding a new position, but there hadn’t been anyone in the area in need of a governess.

  Finally, Lady Hilltop had helped Erienne pack her small trunk for London and had given her an excellent reference to present to Mrs. Griggs. Mrs. Griggs owned an employment office in town, and Lady Hilltop’s friends had recommended the woman’s services. Erienne had taken off in a midday mail co
ach to London. That had been barely a sennight ago, and now here she was, going for her first interview at the town house of none other than the renowned Duke of Claringdon.

  She might not have been so nervous if she didn’t know the Duke of Claringdon. Or, more correctly, had known him in her youth. But she doubted very much if Mrs. Griggs would believe her if she’d said to the lady, “I cannot possibly interview with the Duke of Claringdon because I was once madly in love with his brother.” It sounded insane even to her own ears, and she knew it was true. Besides, even if Mrs. Griggs did believe her, the woman might just question Erienne’s sanity for allowing a duke’s brother to slip through her fingers.

  At any rate, that had all been an age ago, and Erienne needed work. She wasn’t about to mark herself as particular and troublesome by refusing her first interview. Besides, she highly doubted the illustrious Duke of Claringdon, the war-hero duke, the Duke of Decisive, as he’d come to be called, would even remember a young lady from Brighton who’d been in the company of his brother Collin a time or two. It was presumptuous of Erienne to think the duke would remember her name or her face, especially if she arrived on his doorstep in an attempt to gain employment from him. Besides, the lady of the house, the duchess, would most likely be the one interviewing a governess for her children. Erienne had little to worry about.