Page 32 of Mr. Hunt, I Presume

He arched a brow. “Any objections?”

“None whatsoever,” she said with a laugh. “Carry on, General.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

The wedding took place exactly four weeks later, after the banns had been read in Brighton. Erienne’s parents both attended, even though she’d had strong words with her mother for her deception all those years ago. Her parents were quite willing to accept Collin into their family now that he was a general, a highly valued spy, and an official at the Home Office. Not to mention he was wealthy. He’d set about paying all of the bills for Peter’s surgery; and had even given her father money to perform some much needed restorations to their family home. Derek sent a virtual army of craftsmen to complete the work. Seemed the Hunt boys from the small cottage on the wrong side of town were the pride of Brighton these days.

Little Lady Mary and Lord Ralph were dressed in finery for the wedding, and Lucy hugged both the bride and groom an inordinate amount of times. “I must admit,” she told them after the ceremony, “you two frightened me more than any couple in the history of my matchmaking endeavors.”

“Yes, well, it seems we’re going to be in need of a new governess ... again,” Derek said with a sigh.

Lucy smiled and patted her husband’s arm. “Don’t worry. I kept all the letters from Mrs. Griggs.”

Derek’s brows shot up. “That confident, were you, that these two would get back together?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t,” Lucy replied with a nonchalant shrug.

Her arm resting comfortably in Collin’s, Erienne leaned in and confided to her friend, “Your unswayable romantic convictions are nothing short of admirable, dear Lucy.”

“Indeed.” Collin added dryly, but then shared a gentle smile with his bride.

Derek looked less certain. “Very well, Lucy, but next time, can you please find a governess who is already married, or perhaps a nice widow?”

“I can make no promises.” Lucy winked at him.

“Seriously, Lucy, whenwillyou stop matchmaking?” Collin asked.

Lucy tapped a finger against her cheek. “I suppose I’ll die eventually. Perhaps at that time I’ll consider retirement. Until then ... my friend Delilah Montebank has made her debut, and hers shall be the match of the century.”

* * *