A Most Sinful Proposal (23 page)

“Do you think this person, whoever they are, would harm anyone, Valentine? Surely not.”

Valentine thought it possible, but he didn’t want to alarm Marissa anymore, so he shook his head and said he didn’t think so. But as he held her soft, warm body to his, he knew that it was very important to persuade Von Hautt to tell him the truth before the wedding.

If anything were to happen to Marissa…

“What is it?” she asked, looking up at him with wide, dark eyes. “Valentine you’re trembling!”

He caught her searching hands, holding them firmly in his. “Did I tell you how much I love you?” he said earnestly. “And how much I’m looking forward to you being my wife?”

“Have I told you how much I’m looking forward to
being
your wife? And how much, how very much, I love you?”

Their kiss was full of wild passion, almost as if they were afraid it might be their last, and a raging desire caught hold of them. There was no time to do more than lock the door, and then Valentine lowered her down onto the sofa and began to undress
her, kissing every inch of flesh as if it was newly discovered.

Marissa, lost in the touch and feel and taste of him, felt the first dizzying tug of completion as he used his fingers and lips on her, before thrusting deep, not slow and gentle this time but urgently, roughly. They both groaned at the end, clutching each other, gasping for breath.

For the first time Marissa understood the fragility and pain of love, as well as the pleasure. What if she were to lose Valentine? Guilt over her doubts filled her. It would serve her right if she did lose him.

“Marissa, what is it?” he murmured, and she realized she was clinging to him far too tightly.

“Nothing,” she said, with a smile that didn’t quite remove the worry in his eyes. “Everything is perfect, Valentine. How could it be otherwise?”

But he knew her too well and he sensed the doubts that she did not dare to speak aloud. Marissa prayed she could find some peace within herself before her wedding day arrived.

L
ondon was warm, and dusty with the rush of traffic through the busier parts of the city, while the quieter squares drowsed in the sunshine, their parks and gardens a place for sitting and strolling and enjoying the shade. Valentine had brought his own equipage and he and his brother went directly to their London house in Mayfair, while Marissa and Lady Bethany returned to the Rotherhild house in Chelsea.

“You are very quiet, my dear,” said Marissa’s grandmother. “Are you worried that your parents will not like your intended? I’m sure they will heartily approve of him.”

“But it is their approval I’m afraid of, Grandmamma! He is exactly the sort of man they will love, and therefore the sort of man I always swore I would never, never marry.”

Lady Bethany chuckled. “I see what you mean. Well, all is not lost yet. Perhaps we will discover some dreadful flaw in his character that will set them against him, and then you can elope with him.”

The idea had its merits, and Marissa found herself
considering it seriously. But no, how could she? They were to be married in the village church near Abbey Thorne Manor before her close friends and family, it was all settled—in Valentine’s mind, anyway, she thought disloyally.

“Marissa?” her grandmother repeated for the third time, beginning to look worried. But it was too late to tell her what was really going on in her mind. The door was opening to them and her father, Professor Rotherhild, was coming downstairs.

“Marissa, there you are,” he said, a bundle of papers under his arm, looking as if he’d just stepped off a windswept moor. Tall and thin, he was the opposite of her mother, who was short and plump.

“Yes, Father, here I am.”

“Mama-in-law,” he added, with a brief nod to Lady Bethany, who nodded back.

“Father, I wonder if I might speak to you and Mama? I have something to tell you.” Marissa decided there was no time like the present to share her news.

“Do you?” He looked down at his notes, then longingly toward the sanctuary of his study, before sighing. “Very well. Your mother is in the back sitting room. We will join her there.”

Lady Bethany rolled her eyes, but Marissa refused to feel any upset at her father’s obvious lack of interest. When they entered the small, cozy sitting room, her mother looked up with a warm smile, her graying dark hair tied back in an untidy knot, her clothing covered by an apron as she sorted some dried plant specimens.

“Marissa!” She held out her hand, and Marissa
hurried over to kiss her cheek and receive a hug. Lady Bethany followed, and when her daughter asked if Marissa had worn her out in Surrey, assured her that she was perfectly well, better than she’d felt for years in fact.

“Humph,” the professor said, but everyone ignored him.

“I have something to tell you both,” Marissa announced, hands tightly clasped. “I am to be married.”

Their faces fell, just for a moment, as if they were not pleased. But the next moment they were smiling, putting on a good show for her sake, and her father came to clasp her in an awkward embrace, saying with false heartiness, “Well done, Marissa. I’m sure you and young George will be very happy together.”

Marissa froze. Of course they would think she meant George. How could she not have remembered that?

“No, Father,” she began, “it isn’t—”

But he wasn’t listening. “Eleanor,” he was saying to his wife, “we must be sure to book the botanical society rooms at once! We will have the reception there after the wedding. And for her bouquet, what do you say to a selection of ferns among the roses?”

Lady Bethany looked from one to the other and shook her head in disgust. Marissa’s voice rose in dismay, not sure whether to laugh or cry at the confusion.

“Please, Father, Mother, listen to me!”

The sudden silence was unnerving. Her parents were gazing at her in consternation, but in another
moment they would be peppering her with questions, so she made the most of it.

“I am not marrying George. I am marrying his brother, Valentine.”

Consternation turned to astonishment. “Who?” her father burst out, while her mother put her palms to her cheeks in shock.

“Valentine, Lord Kent. He has asked me to marry him and I’ve consented.”

“But…what of George?” her mother cried. “I thought it was George you were fond of. I don’t understand. Dear me, Marissa, this is all very disturbing.”

“Marissa is engaged to marry Lord Kent,” Lady Bethany said loudly and clearly. “It is not disturbing at all, Eleanor. It is a very good thing.”

Her father was frowning and then suddenly his brow cleared. “Lord Kent?” he said. “Of course, Lord Kent! The rose authority. Well, this is a pleasant turn of affairs. Not that we didn’t like George, Marissa,” he added hastily, catching his wife’s warning glance, “but Lord Kent is so much, eh, eh, more suitable.”

“Oh yes, in every way,” Lady Bethany agreed knowingly. “Wait until you meet him.”

“I thought he was a recluse?” the professor said.

“Not at all,” Marissa replied. “Although he does prefer the country to London, it is his work that keeps him from socializing as he might wish.”

“Is he in London now?” her mother asked, eyes wide. She was beginning to remove her apron, as if she was afraid Valentine might be about to walk in on them.

“Yes, he is. I have taken the liberty of asking him to dine with us this evening, Mother.”

Eleanor’s expression showed sheer panic at the thought of impromptu entertaining, but Lady Bethany patted her arm reassuringly. “I will speak to cook, my dear, don’t worry. All will be as it should be. Now,” she looked about with a beaming smile, “I will take a short nap. You have no idea how exhausting it was in Surrey.”

After her grandmother had wafted from the room, Marissa’s parents moved closer, expressions uneasy. “What has she been up to?” Eleanor asked in a long-suffering voice. “I do hope she’s behaved herself, Marissa. You know what she can be like.”

Marissa smiled a wicked little smile. “She has made the acquaintance of Lord Jasper, Mother, who is a friend of Valentine.”

“I knew it!” the professor declared. “She looked far too pleased with herself. Is he completely unsuitable? You’d better tell us at once.”

“He’s very nice, really. You will like him, I’m sure.”

It took some persuasion for them to believe Lady Bethany was genuine in her affections, and that Jasper was a suitable companion, but eventually they seemed to accept Marissa’s assurances.

“We are very happy for you, my dear,” Eleanor assured Marissa, when she rose to go upstairs to unpack and wash off the dust from the journey. “Lady Kent,” she added, trying it out. “I never expected you to marry a lord. Although my mother came from an aristocratic family it has never been
something we thought it necessary to aspire to. It is so much more important to be happy, don’t you think, dear?” she said, looking at her husband.

But Professor Rotherhild had his own ideas on that.

“A rose expert for a son-in-law,” he murmured, rubbing his hands together. “How thoroughly satisfactory, Marissa. Yes, indeed, you have done us proud.”

As Marissa went up to her room she wondered if her spirits could sink any lower.

That evening, when Valentine arrived, he was shown into the drawing room—reserved for important visitors only—and her parents greeted him like a long lost friend.

“Lord Kent,” her father said, beaming as he stepped forward to take his hand. “How do you do? It is a very great pleasure to meet you, and in such happy circumstances.”

“Thank you, Professor Rotherhild.” Valentine smiled his charming smile. “I have heard a great many good things about you and your work.”

“My wife, Eleanor,” the professor said, as Marissa’s mother came forward with a shy smile.

“Ah, Mrs. Rotherhild, I believe you have an interest in carnivorous plants? I’ve always found them fascinating but I admit to knowing very little about them.”

Her eyes lit up. “Yes, indeed,” she said breathlessly. “You must see my collection and judge for yourself.”

“I look forward to it.”

By the time dinner was announced, Valentine seemed to have won them over completely. Marissa didn’t know whether to be relieved or horrified. Some rebellious part of her had always wanted to choose a husband her parents would dislike for one reason or another. In her youth she’d visualized tears and pleas for her to give him up, rather like the stuff she had read in the penny dreadfuls the maids smuggled into the house for her. Emotionally exhausting, now she thought about it properly. She had to admit it was much more comfortable having a future husband who was liked, and yet the idea of a replica of her parents continued to worry her.

As they walked into the dining room, her arm in his, Valentine looked down at her, a crease between his brows, and asked her if anything was the matter.

“No. That is…” She sighed and shook her head. “I am being unreasonable.”

“About what, minx?”

“They think I have chosen them the perfect son-in-law,” she admitted hurriedly, nodding at the professor and Eleanor.

He looked confused. “But isn’t that a good thing, Marissa? Or would you prefer them to be disappointed?” His brow cleared and he laughed. “Oh, I see. They wanted you to marry someone like themselves and you think you have. What, after you’d sworn never to follow in their footsteps?”

“Valentine—” Hearing it spoken aloud made her feel as if she was being ridiculous making such a fuss.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his warm breath brushing
her ear. “I have no intention of spending my days crouching on hillsides while you stand in the rain. In fact, I want you to write me a list of all the things you find unacceptable in a botanically inclined husband and I will study it carefully.”

Marissa laughed shakily. “I couldn’t do that,” she protested.

“Of course you could. I insist. You are my number one priority, Marissa. I want you to be happy.”

Marissa wondered if it was possible for her to love him any more. She told herself she would not make a list, but the idea was tempting. Putting her fears down on paper might help to negate them.

Over their meal, the conversation turned to the proposed wedding arrangements.

“The village church?” her mother repeated uneasily, with a glance to the professor. “Are you sure, Marissa? I think your father has other plans.”

“Nonsense, Marissa, we will arrange for the Royal Botanical Society rooms,” he said loudly, rubbing his hands together at the thought of greeting his guests in such hallowed surroundings.

“I’m afraid we cannot manage that,” Valentine said smoothly. “Marissa and I will be leaving almost immediately after the wedding. We are going to spend our honeymoon on an, eh, expedition.”

He’d chosen the right word. Marissa watched as her parents’ disappointed expressions turned to understanding. To sacrifice everything for the sake of an expedition was completely acceptable in their minds.

“And what are you hoping to find?” The professor listened politely as Valentine outlined some of
his plans, but Marissa could tell he was really just waiting for the moment when he could launch into a monologue detailing his own many expeditions.

Poor Valentine,
she thought. Although, she narrowed her eyes at him, he didn’t appear to be suffering. Of course he wasn’t; this was his life. And it would be hers, too, when she was his wife.

“He is a fine man.” Her mother had come up to her while she was deep in thought. “Handsome and intelligent and charming—a gentleman. We like him very well already, Marissa.” She paused. “That said, I want you to be sure this is the life you want. I know what it is to feel pressured into making choices you do not wish to make, and I have never wanted that for you.”

Marissa could imagine Lady Bethany’s disappointment when her only child took a path so different from her own and it gave her a little more understanding of her mother. She was also touched Eleanor was willing to forego an alliance with the wealthy and charming Lord Kent for the sake of her daughter’s happiness, when she knew things must have been very different for her.

But despite all that, she wished her mother hadn’t asked.

“Marissa?” Eleanor said anxiously, reading something of her doubt in her face.

“I love him, Mama.” She spoke with absolute certainty on that point at least.

“But is that enough, my dear?”

Marissa almost groaned aloud as her mother spoke the very question that was tormenting her day and night.

“I would be very hard to please if it were not,” she said ambiguously.

Her mother looked into her eyes and to Marissa’s relief accepted her statement as a yes. “Then,” she said a little tearfully, “there is nothing more to be said.”