Mr. Hunt, I Presume (Playful Brides, #10.5)(8)


Lucy placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Go play with Ralph and Anna in the corner, darling,” she said, pointing toward where her son and a nursemaid sat across the room near a stack of wooden blocks. Ralph was sitting up straight, shaking one of the blocks in his little fist. Mary happily scampered off to join them.

“Anna will be your assistant,” Lucy continued to Erienne, nodding toward the young maid. “She’s been the children’s nursemaid since they were born.”

Erienne blinked. “Assistant?”

“Yes.” Lucy waved a hand in the air. “You know, for when you need a few moments of peace. Or help with lessons. You’ll also have a maid who serves your meals and theirs, and another maid who does your laundry and theirs, and one who cleans your rooms and—”

“I’m not accustomed to having help.” Erienne had never even heard of such a thing. At Hilltop House, she and the other upper servants had been served meals by the under servants, but that had been the extent of any help she’d received in her position. She’d certainly never had a nursemaid to help watch the children, or a maid to clean her room or do her laundry. She’d been responsible for bringing her own laundry down to the laundry maids each week.

“I understand,” Lucy replied. “But I think it’s best if you’re able to concentrate on the children’s studies. I want both of them to begin learning French right away.”

“Of course.” Erienne wasn’t about to argue with a duchess over the extravagance of her household. Besides, it stood to reason that in such a fine home there would be more servants. But it was yet another reason she was still not entirely certain why she’d accepted this position. Would she ever feel comfortable here?

“They’re darling children,” Erienne said. “And I’ve never seen such fine bedchambers.” She gestured around the cavernous space that was Lady Mary’s room.

Lucy threaded her arm through Erienne’s. “Now, let me show you your rooms.”

“Rooms?” Erienne echoed. She’d assumed she would have one room, no doubt a lovely one, but at Hilltop House, her accommodations had been limited to a single serviceable bedchamber.

“Anna, we’ll be back soon,” Lucy called to the nursemaid, who nodded and continued her play with the children.

They left Mary’s nursery and strolled down the hall, past Ralph’s equally large bedchamber to the end of the corridor, where Lucy pushed open a wide door to reveal a room that stole Erienne’s breath.

“This is your bedchamber,” Lucy said, sweeping her hand in front of her as she showed Erienne the huge, elegantly appointed space. The room was much grander than the one she’d had at the Hilltops’ residence, decorated in hues of green and lavender. Her bed was a large, fancy thing with a white satin tent over it, a new down mattress, matching fluffy pillows and the finest white linens she’d ever touched. Fresh flowers and wax candles (no tallow) rested on the bedside table. Erienne wanted to pinch herself with glee.

Lucy pointed. “Through that door is the sitting room, and over there is the dressing room.”

“Dressing room? I have my own dressing room?” Erienne couldn’t help herself. She lifted her skirts and hurried through the first door. The dressing room had its own dressing table with a small lavender tufted stool sitting in front of it. The top of the table was filled with pots and bottles, a silver-handled brush and a matching mirror. There was a large cheval looking glass in the corner, and a wardrobe nearly double the size of the one she’d been given at Hilltop House.

Keeping her lips tightly pressed together to hide her amazement, Erienne turned and made her way back through the bedchamber to the sitting room. Lucy followed her, watching with a faint smile.

The sitting room was a cozy space with an obviously expensive fitted carpet, and (oh, goodness!) she had her own fireplace in this room too, for heaven’s sake. A comfortable-looking chair with a footstool sat next to the fireplace with a small table beside it. The walls were lined with whitewashed bookcases of all wonderfully welcomed things. A plethora of books graced the shelves. There was a cream-colored quilt splayed across the chair, and two fluffy fur-lined slippers sat in front of the footstool. A silver-plated tea service perched on the footstool, completing the perfectly relaxing little space.

Erienne turned to face Lucy and couldn’t help the wonder that no doubt shined in her eyes. She pressed her palms to both cheeks. “These rooms are beyond magnificent, your grace. I couldn’t possibly—”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Lucy wagged a finger at her. “I’ve already told you, you must call me Lucy. We don’t stand on formality with our trusted servants in this house. And don’t you dare refuse these rooms. They’re meant for you. And well-deserved. You’ll need time for yourself after spending so much of it with the children.”

Erienne expelled her breath. “I was going to say, I couldn’t possibly ask for more.”

“Excellent,” Lucy replied with a sparkling smile. “I’m so happy you’re pleased.”

Erienne made her way back into the bedchamber. She hadn’t noticed it at first, but on the far wall there was a lovely painting of two little girls playing in a bright, flowered field. Looking at it, her heart swelled. She’d always wanted a sister, and her fondest dream had been to have two daughters. But that was a long time ago, back when she had allowed herself to do things like dream of marriage and children of her own.

Valerie Bowman's Books