A Most Sinful Proposal (The Husband Hunters Club 2)

“Oh, but the thorns!”

They’d laughed, and Marissa had felt as if she’d finally found someone who understood her predicament. And, indeed, as they conversed she learned that he had grown up in similar circumstances, suffering through dinners where heated discussions took place over obscure plants and hardly being noticed at all while her parents read aloud from the latest paper on their favorite subjects. Her grandmother sympathized but she didn’t really understand. For her, other people’s foibles were amusing, grist to the mill of her caustic tongue, but Marissa was unable to laugh at her parents’ peculiarities. She felt ignored and isolated, even though she knew they did not mean to be cruel. Now George had made her feel she wasn’t entirely alone.

Indeed, it was as if she’d found a soul mate.

That was why it had been so important for her to come to Abbey Thorne Manor for the weekend party. George was the man she wanted to marry, she was absolutely certain of it, and when he’d extended the invitation she’d been determined to use the weekend to convince him that she was the perfect woman for him.

And now he wasn’t here to greet her and from the way Lord Kent was acting it was possible there may not be a weekend house party taking place after all. George had mistaken the date or, worse, forgotten her.

She was reminded, painfully, of the day her parents forgot to arrange her tenth birthday party, so engrossed were they in their latest find, and she had to explain to several disappointed friends that there would be no food and no cake and no games. The echo of her humiliation was still fresh as she’d faced the pity and scorn in their eyes.

Lord Kent sighed. Marissa glanced up, startled, wondering if he’d read her feelings in her face. He was staring at her with something like sympathy, but to her relief he did not ask her what the matter was.

“Do sit down, Miss Rotherhild. If anyone can find George then it is Morris—he knows all my brother’s hiding places. We will soon unravel this mystery.”

Marissa perched on the edge of a chair beside her grandmother and clutched her reticule in her gloved fingers. Lady Bethany reached out and gave her hand a squeeze.

“Never mind, my dear. At least we have had a jaunt into the country, and just think, if we’d been at home in London we may have been forced to travel deep into Scotland to help collect your father’s lichens and mosses. I doubt I could survive another visit to Yell.”

That was true, Marissa thought, but it still didn’t help to make her feel any less disappointed about George.

And how was she going to tell the Husband Hunters Club that she’d failed to capture her chosen husband before she’d even begun?

“Ah, Morris. Any news?”

Marissa looked up, hope shining in her eyes. But Morris’s mouth was down turned and he shook his head with a gloomy air. “I’m very much afraid Mr. George is nowhere to be found, my lord.”

“You’ve looked everywhere?”

“I have.”

“Should you…should you begin a search for him beyond the estate?” Marissa asked, stumbling over her words, as it suddenly occurred to her that George may be in trouble. Yes, that must be it! She should have known it. George was missing. He would never abandon her like this unless there was something wrong.

Morris and Lord Kent exchanged a glance.

“I very much doubt a search will be necessary,” Lord Kent said, his tone thoughtful, “but we shall see what the day brings. Now, Morris, can you arrange for some rooms to be prepared for Miss Rotherhild and Lady Bethany? And inform Mrs. Beaumaris we will have extras for luncheon. There is no reason for them to travel all the way back to London just because my feckless brother isn’t here to greet them. They have come for a weekend party and we shall have a weekend party.”

Morris looked as if he’d been skewered but swiftly rose to the occasion. “I…certainly, my

lord.”

Lord Kent nodded, and then gave a brief bow to the women. “If you will excuse me, ladies, I have some business to complete. We will meet again at luncheon.”

The door closed behind him and the two women were alone.

“Should we stay, Grandmamma?” Marissa asked tentatively. “Perhaps we should make our excuses and leave. If we take our time returning to London my parents will have left by the time we arrive.”

But Lady Bethany was adamant. “No, Marissa, we are not leaving. I want to stay. I declare I haven’t been so amused by a situation for years. Our host is a one of a kind.”

“Well, Lord Kent did seem very…”

“Underdressed, dishabille? Indeed he did. Not your usual English gentleman to be sure, but very manly, my dear. He quite melted my insides, and I haven’t felt like that since…well, such fond memories are not for your innocent ears.”

Another of her grandmother’s wicked recollections, Marissa thought wryly. Was Lord Kent manly? Certainly there was something about him that was very earthy. The unbuttoned shirt and the triangle of masculine throat she couldn’t help but notice, as well as his unshaven jaw and ill-fitting jacket. She had a strong desire to brush him down and straighten him up.

“So, it is agreed. We will be staying?” Lady Bethany said with an arched eyebrow and a twinkle in her eye that hinted she knew exactly what Marissa was thinking.

“Yes,” Marissa replied primly, “I do believe we will.”