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

  She glanced at her new employer, suddenly anxious. “Are you mad?” Drat. The question sprang from her mouth before she had a chance to examine it. Lucy might have just informed her that Collin was in the same house, but Erienne had little intention of purposely meeting him. And she had no intention of sharing a meal with him, for heaven’s sake. She cleared her throat. “What I meant to say was that I regret if this disappoints you, your grace, but no, I will absolutely not come to dinner.”

  Lucy nodded. “I understand it might be difficult at first, but I think it’s best if you see Collin and clear the air. It will make the next fortnight less awkward for both of you.”

  “There’s no reason in the world the next fortnight should be awkward,” Erienne said, trying her best to sound nonchalant. “I’ll be spending my time with the children, and no doubt he’ll be spending time with you and Derek. There’s little cause for our paths to cross.”

  Lucy gave her a look that clearly indicated she thought Erienne was trying too hard with the nonchalance. “Wouldn’t you rather get the meeting over with? We can have a nice meal and all catch up. That doesn’t have to be awkward, either.”

  Erienne straightened her shoulders. “I am employed as a governess at this house. Eating meals as a guest is inappropriate.”

  Lucy blinked at her. “Who says so? You’re the childhood friend of my husband and his brother, and your father is a baron, according to Derek. There’s no reason in the world I cannot or should not invite you to our dinner table to share a meal with old friends.”

  “I’d rather not.” Her reply was succinct, and hopefully would put an end to Lucy’s badgering.

  “What if I insist?” Lucy countered.

  Erienne pressed her fingertips to her temples where a headache was quickly forming. “I cannot imagine Collin would relish a dinner with the hired help.”

  “Nonsense.” Lucy crossed her arms over her chest and made a little huffing noise. “You’re being stubborn and ridiculous. In fact, I’d say you’re making far too much of this. If your past with Collin is nothing, as you say it is, why would you object so strongly to a dinner with him?”

  Drat. The duchess made sense, too much sense, and she’d just made the one argument Erienne could hardly refute without making it seem as if she cared far more than she was telling herself she did.

  “It’s only one dinner,” Lucy continued. “It doesn’t need to be such a bother.”

  Erienne contemplated the matter for a moment. Perhaps it would be for the best. Have dinner, greet each other, pretend as if nothing had ever happened, and then go about their business for the next fortnight. If she was fortunate, she might not even see Collin again, or only in passing.

  She sighed. “Very well, one dinner. If you insist.”

  A triumphant smile spread across Lucy’s face. “Excellent. Now, you must come with me to my rooms. I’ll have my maid fix your hair, and I insist upon you wearing one of my gowns.”

  Erienne arched a brow. “That sounds an awful lot as if I’d be trying too hard.”

  “You’re an old friend, and we’re merely going to put some rouge on your cheeks and pin up your hair. If you also borrow some jewelry, so be it.”

  “Lucy?” Erienne dragged out the word and gave her a skeptical glare. “You wouldn’t be trying to make me beautiful, would you?”

  “Erienne, darling, you’re already beautiful. I’m merely going to make Collin wish he hadn’t waited so long to see you again.”

  And suddenly, Erienne knew she couldn’t win. Lucy was a cheerful squall, blowing through the peaceful ocean of her life, and there was no way to stop the waves that would inevitably toss Erienne to and fro. Reluctantly, she stood and trailed the duchess out of the room and toward the other woman’s bedchamber. Erienne highly doubted rouge and a pretty gown would make Collin wish anything. She would end up regretting this. She knew she would. It had been an age since she’d dressed in finery and attended an elegant dinner with people of the Quality. Would she even remember how to go about it? And what sort of small talk could she possibly invent over dinner with Collin and Derek Hunt?

  One could only imagine the sort of beautification the duchess had in store for her, but Erienne had already learned quite well that Lucy got what Lucy wanted, and apparently, at the moment, Lucy wanted to make Erienne look like a fine lady instead of a governess.

  They entered the duchess’s rooms, where Lucy proceeded to drag Erienne by the hand into her large dressing room. She threw open the doors of several enormous wardrobes to reveal gowns of every fabric and color hanging inside. The space looked like a dressmaker’s shop. Erienne wanted to turn in a circle and look at each and every one of the lovely gowns.

  “I do believe you’re my size before I had the children.” Lucy plunked her hands on her hips and sized up Erienne. “I’d hate for all these pretty gowns to go to waste.” She rushed over to pull out a gorgeous, ice-blue satin concoction with silver trim and a silver sarsnet overskirt. “This will go perfectly with your eyes. Oh, and with diamonds, it’ll be exquisite!”

  Erienne shook her head and bit her lip to hide a smile. She shouldn’t be enjoying this, but she couldn’t help herself. In her heart, she was still a girl who liked to look pretty once in a while. And the mention of diamonds made her the tiniest bit giddy.

  “I have the most lovely matching silver slippers with bows on the ends to go with this,” Lucy continued.

  “It’s not too much, is it?” Erienne asked in a doubtful tone.

  “Not at all.” Lucy waggled her eyebrows. “You want to see the diamonds, don’t you?”

  It was official. Erienne was Cinderella and Lucy was her fairy godmother. “Very well,” Erienne said, finally warming to the topic. “Show me the diamonds.”

  Lucy gave a small squeal of excitement. She rang for her maid and asked the woman to gather a necklace and matching earbobs. Then she escorted Erienne over to the dressing table and forced her to sit. “I think a chignon for your hair tonight, don’t you? Elegant, but simple.” She picked up a brush, plucked the pins out of Erienne’s serviceable coiffure, and began brushing the long, blond locks.

  “Oh, Lucy,” Erienne said with a laugh, closing her eyes and leaning back. “I know I’m going to regret this later, but it is fun, isn’t it?”

  “One never regrets a beautification, dear. And the fun hasn’t even started yet.”

  Erienne opened her eyes and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She finally allowed a large smile to spread across her face. She was thinner than she used to be. She was older than she used to be. Would Collin still find her attractive? Would she still find him attractive?

  “So,” Lucy said, after the maid returned with the jewels. She held up the gorgeous necklace, and Erienne’s eyes widened in amazement. “What exactly happened between you and Collin all those years ago?”

  Chapter Ten

  Brighton, June 1807

  Erienne tossed her schoolbooks aside and flew up the stairs to her bedchamber. She had just turned sixteen, and was bored stiff learning comportment and French when she’d much rather be outside in the fresh air, breathing in the scent of the sea, the wind whipping her hair. But today, today was a much better day than the long boring days before it, because Collin was back in town. He’d been gone to the army for nearly three years and was on leave for a fortnight. He’d written to her as he’d promised, letters that weren’t personal in nature because he knew her parents would read them.

  Her parents were none too pleased with her infatuation with one of the Hunt brothers. The boys came from the family of a disgraced army officer who drank too much and treated his sons poorly, but that hadn’t stopped Erienne from falling madly in love with Collin. Of course they were only friends at first, but she couldn’t recall a time when she hadn’t admired him. Sometime around her thirteenth birthday, when Collin was sixteen, just before he’d left for the army, they’d begun a game. One of them would write something on a small slip of paper, a challenge. Whatev
er the words, the other must comply or forfeit.

  Collin had slipped her a note when he’d seen her in church that Sunday. It contained only six words: Meet me by the sycamore tree. She hadn’t had to ask which sycamore tree. A huge one graced the area behind the church in the little grove just past the cemetery. She’d feigned the need to use the necessary and hurried outside to the tree.

  It was there, as they wiped tears away from their eyes and said their goodbyes, that Erienne had lifted up on her tiptoes and whispered in Collin’s ear that she would love him forever.

  Their first kiss should have been on her sixteenth birthday, but Collin was off training at the time. She’d written him in the code they’d developed. Every tenth word of their letters spelled out a sentence with their true feelings, and Collin had promised her secretly, by writing back in the same code, that he would kiss her for her sixteenth birthday present, even if belatedly.

  Erienne had been working on her excuse to her mother and governess this particular morning. She’d begun bringing food and some old clothing to the poorhouse on Wednesday afternoons, after her studies ended, and she intended to do the same thing today. Only she planned to cut short her visit with Mrs. Elmsly and the other ladies at the poorhouse to meet Collin at their appointed spot.

  Erienne’s middle was a mass of nerves as she brushed her hair fifty times, wrapped it into a chignon, and pinned it atop her head. She smoothed her hands down her white gown and pinched her cheeks to give them color. Then she hurried down to the kitchens to gather the basket Cook prepared each week for the poorhouse.

  “Mother,” she called as she climbed the stairs to the main level of the house, “I’m off to see Mrs. Elmsly.”

  A general affirmative sound came from the direction of the front salon, where her mother wrote her correspondence on Wednesday afternoons.

  Erienne was out the front door and halfway down the street in minutes, a thrill of freedom coursing through her veins.

  A short time later, she arrived at the poorhouse, not far from the church. She handed her basket to a grateful Mrs. Elmsly and asked how all of the children were doing, but she could barely contain her excitement, and it wasn’t long before she said, “Good day, Mrs. Elmsly. I must get back.”

  She didn’t allow the woman to protest. Instead, Erienne hiked her shawl around her shoulders and hurried out the door. She made her way down the street as she always did, but when she came to the corner where the little whitewashed church sat, she went left toward the church instead of right toward her father’s house.

  She glanced around to make certain no one had seen her. There were a few people out running errands, and Mr. Sanderson was herding a small group of sheep across the road in the opposite direction, but otherwise, no one seemed to care where she was going. She hurried along the side of the church and continued past the copse of trees behind the small cemetery until she spotted the tall branches of the sycamore tree. Their sycamore tree … hers and Collin’s.

  He was standing there, waiting for her in his uniform, looking so tall and handsome and formal in his red jacket, white breeches, and black boots, polished to a shine. Her heart swelled.

  A twig snapped under her slipper and he turned toward her. He held a bouquet of wildflowers in his hands. She loved flowers. Especially wild flowers. White, purple, and green. They were lovely. As soon as he realized it was her, a wide smile spread across his face. A smile that took her breath away. Collin had always been good-looking, but now he was even more so. Standing a few inches over six feet, he had brown hair, a perfectly straight nose, and dark slashes for brows that rested above jade-green eyes that missed nothing.

  “Erienne,” he breathed.

  She ran into his arms, and he picked her up and spun her around.

  “I’ve missed you so, Collin.”

  “I’ve missed you, too.” He set her gingerly back on her feet and cupped her elbows, looking down into her face. “You look beautiful, as always.”

  “So do you,” she replied with a laugh.

  “You received my last letter?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “I’m certain Mother doesn’t know the code. She even remarked on how similar our letters sound. I think she meant boring.”

  “Similar and dull,” Collin said, laughing. “Precisely how we intend to write them.” He paused, and the look on his face turned serious. “I’m sorry I missed your birthday.”

  Erienne’s heart skipped a beat. This was it. He was going to kiss her. “You can make it up to me.”

  “How?”

  She pressed a tiny bit of parchment into his hand, burying her nose in her shawl to hide the blush burning her cheeks.

  Kiss me, the note read.

  He lifted his gaze to look at her with love shining in his eyes, then he lowered his head toward hers, and Erienne lifted her arms to wrap around his neck. The moment his lips brushed hers, a jolt of heat rocked through her and settled between her legs.

  As though he sensed her inner reaction, he pulled her tight against his hard body, and Erienne moaned. Her arms tightened around his neck and she clung to him while his tongue slid between her lips to explore her mouth. She hadn’t thought a kiss could be so invasive—or that she’d enjoy the invasion so much. Then his mouth slanted across hers and the kiss turned into something else entirely. Pure waves of lust streaked through her body as Collin kissed her again and again. One of his rough hands tenderly cupped her cheek, while the other held her snugly against him, somehow aligning every inch of their bodies though he was so tall and she so small. And she followed every movement he made, every restless shift, as if they were dancing.

  When he sank to his knees in the cool grass, he took her with him, so tightly entangled were their bodies. And when the world tilted and she felt the soft, fragrant ground beneath her, she didn’t think, couldn’t think, because Collin was atop her, his weight welcome and warm. They kissed again and again, starved for each other after so many years of wanting—and then the laughter came, born of pure happiness. They rolled in the grass, laughing and clutching each other, lust melding into joy, until finally Collin lifted off her and flopped onto his side to stare at her.

  “I wish I didn’t have to leave you again.” He was panting as he pulled a twig out of her coiffure and tossed it away.

  “I wish you never had to leave again.” Erienne traced the line of his brow with one trembling finger, her bliss fading with the thought of being parted from him.

  Collin pulled her against his chest and rested his chin atop her head. They lay like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, for as long as they dared. Dusk had begun to fall by the time Erienne murmured, “I’d better get back.”

  She saw him three more times during those two weeks. Theirs were always stolen moments they had to eke out around duty and family, but looking back, she recognized their last encounter was a sign of things to come.

  “Mother says my debut is the most important thing I’ll ever do, and I cannot let up on my studies lest I fail to find a decent husband. Can you imagine?” Erienne didn’t know why she’d brought up her debut. It was at least two years off. She supposed she wanted to see how Collin would react to the notion that she was to be put on the marriage mart.

  His dark brows lowered. “Whom do your parents wish you to marry?”

  She’d been so nonchalant that day, waving her hand in the air. Words had tripped off her tongue so easily, as if they had no meaning. “Someone of the Quality, of course.” She’d sneered the word ‘Quality.’ None of that had ever mattered to her. She’d known she would marry Collin since she’d been a girl. She didn’t give a whit what her parents thought was best for her.

  “Of course,” Collin said, but a brief flash of hurt highlighted his fine features.

  “Collin?” They were lounging in the grass by the tree again. She turned toward him. “You know I don’t care about any of that, don’t you? My debut and all the rest of it.”

  “You should care, Erienne,” he replied solemn
ly.

  “But I don’t. I never have. I love you.” She’d wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. He’d returned the kiss, passionately. They were going to be together forever.

  “You love me too, don’t you?” she asked after the kiss ended, just needing to be reassured, to hear it again.

  “Of course I do, Air.”

  “And we’re going to marry one day, you and I.”

  His only response had been to pull her closer into his arms and squeeze her tight.

  * * *

  They continued their code-filled correspondence over the next two years. Erienne resumed her lessons with her governess, and as her eighteenth birthday approached, she wrote Collin about the preparations for her going to court to make her debut. Mother, of course, had approved of those letters because she saw it as Erienne letting poor Collin Hunt know that she intended to marry someone of the Quality, as she should. But in the code within the letters, she’d continued to write things such as, I love you, Collin. I miss you, Collin. I cannot wait to see you again.

  Collin had written back with news of his training and deployments and even his first promotion, one that failed to impress Erienne’s parents. “He’s still a Hunt,” Mother had said, turning up her nose as if she smelled something disagreeable.

  As her debut approached, Erienne noticed that Collin’s letters arrived less often. She told herself he was preoccupied with his assignments, and she herself was terribly busy doing a hundred silly, unimportant things, like picking out the trim for her ball gown and choosing feathers for her hair for the debut at the palace. She wrote of these things to Collin, while his letters dried up.

  Finally, the summer after her eighteenth birthday, after she’d made her debut and spent the Season fending off offers from a lot of useless gentlemen who’d never known a hard day’s work, Collin wrote to tell her he was coming home again.