Page 11 of An Earl, His Valet, & Their Wife

Michael a beast? That was exceedingly hard to imagine.

Mr. Hunter, on the other hand…

Katherine shivered. The valet was just so…compelling. Although they’d only met briefly, she’d been captivated by his dark brown gaze and brawny form. Were all Scots so startlingly large? And while he was exceedingly well turned out, even more so than Mr. Brummell, there was a barely leashed rawness about Mr. Hunter. Like at any given moment he might discard his gentleman mask and wreak havoc.

A red-haired devil to Michael’s angel.

The devil had seemed very protective of his earl, understandable in a longtime bachelor household. But now it wasn’t. And she needed to talk to her husband.

“I see,” said Katherine, frowning a little.

Mrs. Calder smiled soothingly. “If you wish a private conversation, why not make a time with him at breakfast? Lord Whitmore requested your presence at nine sharp.”

“He did?” she replied, her spirits rising. That wasn’t long to wait at all. She could insist on a meeting to discuss their wedding night and access to his bedchamber. “Then I’d best get dressed. Only…I have nothing suitable to wear. I’m not at all elegant like my husband.”

The housekeeper barked out a laugh, this one seemingly genuine. “Lord Whitmore, God bless him, is London’s best dressed solely because of his valet. No one has an eye like Mr. Hunter for color, cut, and fabric. And he knows the best modistes and milliners in the city. If you’re serious in wanting a fresh start free from, er, previous influences, I would strongly recommend asking Mr. Hunter’s counsel. There are charlatans who will create overpriced nonsense because they need the blunt. But he will ensure you look splendid.”

Well. That would be nice. Her current wardrobe was nothing to crow about; Mother’s preference had always been more—more velvet, more lace, more puff, and more pale pink. All very irritating for someone who enjoyed curling up to read bloodthirsty adventures. And she certainly didn’t want to embarrass Michael.

“I shall ask,” said Katherine as she scrambled out of bed. “But for today if you could choose the least ghastly thing in my armoire and help me dress, I would be grateful.”

“Of course, madam.”

With five minutes to spare, Katherine hurried downstairs to the dining room. Mrs. Calder had not only found a relatively inoffensive pink-striped day gown, but she’d also tamed Katherine’s hair into a neat braided coil. Dressed like this, and with her sapphire betrothal ring heavy on her finger, she almost felt like a countess.

At the dining room door, she paused to take a deep breath and paste a smile on her face, then strolled in. Michael sat at one end of about an acre of polished mahogany, while Mr. Hunter stood beside him pouring a cup of tea. A footman moved to pull out a chair at the other end of the table, but surprisingly, Michael held up his hand.

“Come and sit by me, Katherine. No need to shout at each other.”

Immensely relieved, she nodded and moved to the chair to his right.

“Tea, my lady?” said Mr. Hunter in that dark, gravelly brogue that made a simple, polite offer sound positively indecent.

Did he have a lover that wailed like a banshee?

Katherine blushed at the wayward thought. “Uh…yes. Please. With a little milk and three sugar cubes.”

“What do you like to eat?” asked Michael, setting aside his newspaper. “I prefer a selection from the buffet, but the kitchens will make whatever you wish.”

She glanced over at the buffet and her mouth watered at the display of toasted bread, marmalade and berry preserve, coddled eggs, sliced ham, cheese, even roasted tomato halves drizzled with herbs. Her parents had favored plain tea and toast for breakfast, but abruptly she was ravenous. “Would it be inexcusably rude if I wanted some of everything over there? It smells delicious.”

Michael smiled. “Nothing calls for a hearty breakfast like having to conduct interviews. Terrible task. Thankfully I haven’t had to do so since I hired Gerry…er, Mr. Hunter.”

Katherine stilled as the two men exchanged a look that could almost be described as fond. Yet in the next breath her husband gestured for plates of food to be brought over and the moment was gone. Needing a distraction, she took a bracing sip of tea. Oh, that was good. Exactly how she liked it.

When the cup was empty and she’d eaten her fill, Katherine cleared her throat and looked at Michael. “Do you have plans today? I wondered if we might, er…talk.”

He paused in cutting his last bite of ham. “I do, alas. Meetings with bankers and lawyers to change my will and commence your allowance, amongst other things. Oh yes, and I’ll set up a Hatchards account as well. By the by, would you like shelves constructed in your bedchamber to begin your own library? And a desk for correspondence?”

Katherine almost swooned. “I would adore that.”

Michael nodded, dabbed his mouth with a linen napkin, then stood. “Liaise with Mr. Hunter on anything when I’m not here. He also acts as my secretary and knows all that needs to be known. But I must away to Cheapside. I hope the interviews go well and you find who you’re looking for. I’ll see you at supper, Katherine.”

And with that, her husband bent down and kissed the top of her head before striding from the room.

Gah! Not only had he cunningly distracted her with talk of bookshelves, that kiss had been fatherly rather than passionate. And now, apart from three footmen standing unobtrusively along the wall, she was alone with Mr. Hunter.

Katherine peeped at the valet through her lashes. He was studying her, and that fathomless gaze seemed to burn right through her clothing.