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Authors: Daphne Coleridge
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younger brother always trying to get him out of scrapes and always taking a share of the blame when Cole made trouble.
Amy took a break from her painting to go and look over James’ studio and was genuinely impressed with the high roof and the strong light from original Victorian windows. The heaps of canvases and all the paraphernalia of the artist made the place seem very attractive and part of her could hardly wait to get started there. Another part was dreading leaving the village which had been her lifelong home. And something was to happen on the Monday which would make her feel even more conflicted about moving to London. Having stayed a night with her friend, Lucy, Amy had taken a train back to Montford on the Sunday. By the following morning she was looking forward to continuing work on the portrait and listening to more accounts of the escapades of Hunter and Cole. But when she knocked on one of the oak doors at the front of Wolfston Hall with a faint smile on her face, she was almost stunned to find it opened by a familiar male figure. Broad shouldered, lean, and perfectly groomed, Hunter Lewis looked perfectly relaxed, as man was entitled to in his own home.
“What are you doing here?” Amy exclaimed, too surprised to pick her words more carefully.
“Checking to see that my grandmother has everything she needs,” replied Hunter, ushering Amy in with a gesture. “Unfortunately I can’t stay for more than a couple of days – I’m still in the middle of sorting a few things out back state-side. But I’m hoping to be able to get back here by the end of the month. Hopefully I will be able to see your finished portrait by then. I gather my grandmother managed to persuade you where I failed.” He had entered the room where his grandmother was waiting for Amy and went up and put an affectionate arm around her. Marilyn looked tiny and frail by her tall and handsome grandson, but she beamed up at him.
“Oh, I can still be very persuasive when I want to be,” Marilyn said to Hunter. “And I want my portrait in the gallery here. I haven’t looked at it whilst it is a work in progress, how is it coming on?”
“You look as beautiful as you usually do,” said Hunter, with a wink at Amy as he studied her unfinished work.
“Hmm – that could be taken more than one way,” said his grandmother. “Anyway, you can clear off. I don’t want you distracting my artist.”
Hunter gave a little bow of consent and then turned to Amy, “I hope you will join us for dinner tonight if you aren’t too tired after a day’s work? Perhaps you could be back here by seven o’clock?”
“Oh, um...yes, thank you,” stammered Amy who hadn’t quite readjusted to Hunter’s physical presence. He left the room with a last smile back at the two ladies and Amy spent a few moments putting paint onto her palette to try and calm herself before she could begin. It seemed to her that she had gone through many changes since she last saw Hunter, but it was only a matter of weeks since the ball. Once thing was for certain, she thought to herself as she mixed alizarin crimson with a little yellow ochre, she still found Hunter as attractive as ever.
Fortunately for Amy, once she started painting she forgot everything else, and it was only after she had returned home and showered and dressed for the evening that her apprehensions returned. She wasn’t sure on what basis she had been invited to dinner. Was it just as a courtesy because she was painting Hunter’s grandmother? And what would it be like in the company of both of them? She knew enough of Marilyn’s character by now to know that she couldn’t be trusted not to tease either Hunter or Amy.
There was always something slightly odd about going back to her old family home as a guest, but somehow Amy felt it more that evening, probably because with both Hunter and his grandm other in residence it felt as if it really did now belong to a new family. And perhaps also it was
Amy took a break from her painting to go and look over James’ studio and was genuinely impressed with the high roof and the strong light from original Victorian windows. The heaps of canvases and all the paraphernalia of the artist made the place seem very attractive and part of her could hardly wait to get started there. Another part was dreading leaving the village which had been her lifelong home. And something was to happen on the Monday which would make her feel even more conflicted about moving to London. Having stayed a night with her friend, Lucy, Amy had taken a train back to Montford on the Sunday. By the following morning she was looking forward to continuing work on the portrait and listening to more accounts of the escapades of Hunter and Cole. But when she knocked on one of the oak doors at the front of Wolfston Hall with a faint smile on her face, she was almost stunned to find it opened by a familiar male figure. Broad shouldered, lean, and perfectly groomed, Hunter Lewis looked perfectly relaxed, as man was entitled to in his own home.
“What are you doing here?” Amy exclaimed, too surprised to pick her words more carefully.
“Checking to see that my grandmother has everything she needs,” replied Hunter, ushering Amy in with a gesture. “Unfortunately I can’t stay for more than a couple of days – I’m still in the middle of sorting a few things out back state-side. But I’m hoping to be able to get back here by the end of the month. Hopefully I will be able to see your finished portrait by then. I gather my grandmother managed to persuade you where I failed.” He had entered the room where his grandmother was waiting for Amy and went up and put an affectionate arm around her. Marilyn looked tiny and frail by her tall and handsome grandson, but she beamed up at him.
“Oh, I can still be very persuasive when I want to be,” Marilyn said to Hunter. “And I want my portrait in the gallery here. I haven’t looked at it whilst it is a work in progress, how is it coming on?”
“You look as beautiful as you usually do,” said Hunter, with a wink at Amy as he studied her unfinished work.
“Hmm – that could be taken more than one way,” said his grandmother. “Anyway, you can clear off. I don’t want you distracting my artist.”
Hunter gave a little bow of consent and then turned to Amy, “I hope you will join us for dinner tonight if you aren’t too tired after a day’s work? Perhaps you could be back here by seven o’clock?”
“Oh, um...yes, thank you,” stammered Amy who hadn’t quite readjusted to Hunter’s physical presence. He left the room with a last smile back at the two ladies and Amy spent a few moments putting paint onto her palette to try and calm herself before she could begin. It seemed to her that she had gone through many changes since she last saw Hunter, but it was only a matter of weeks since the ball. Once thing was for certain, she thought to herself as she mixed alizarin crimson with a little yellow ochre, she still found Hunter as attractive as ever.
Fortunately for Amy, once she started painting she forgot everything else, and it was only after she had returned home and showered and dressed for the evening that her apprehensions returned. She wasn’t sure on what basis she had been invited to dinner. Was it just as a courtesy because she was painting Hunter’s grandmother? And what would it be like in the company of both of them? She knew enough of Marilyn’s character by now to know that she couldn’t be trusted not to tease either Hunter or Amy.
There was always something slightly odd about going back to her old family home as a guest, but somehow Amy felt it more that evening, probably because with both Hunter and his grandm other in residence it felt as if it really did now belong to a new family. And perhaps also it was
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