A Most Sinful Proposal (The Husband Hunters Club 2)

e to its rightful place at Abbey Thorne Manor,” Jasper said.

Marissa blinked. “You sound like my father when he’s on the hunt for some rare specimen,” she said with a grimace. “I’m afraid botanical missions are of no interest to me.”

And yet even as she spoke she was leaning forward to inspect the list of names, a crease between her brows.

“What do you intend to do now that you have found the names? Visit each house and search their gardens?”

“That is my plan, yes,” he said stiffly.

“Then I’m sorry to lack enthusiasm for your plan, Lord Kent, but what if the house is gone, fallen down, pulled down? What if the family moved far away and took the rose with them? What if—”

He interrupted her impatiently. “My family still lives in the same place, if not quite in the same house, and if my ancestor hadn’t destroyed the rose in a fit of pique, it would still be here. You forget, these were not men who moved in the highest circles in the land. They did not play with kings and queens; they were not powerful except in their own little patch of country. There was no reason to take their land or homes from them for being on the wrong side in a political struggle. After the Crusades they stayed put and quietly farmed their land and raised their children. There is every possibility that the rose is still to be found, flowering away unnoticed, in some quiet corner of the county.”

Jasper gave a grunt of agreement and Marissa turned back to the list, as if she might find more arguments in the arrangement of the letters.

Despite feeling a degree of irritation with her, Valentine found himself examining the delicate nape of her neck, noting the way wisps of her dark hair curled against her pale skin. There was the glint of ebony combs amongst the thick tresses, and his fingers twitched as he imagined removing those combs and allowing the heavy mass to fall into his hands. Burying his face in her hair, in her scent.

He almost groaned aloud.

“So if the rose still exists you will find it,” she was saying, unaware of his struggle. “I wish you luck, Lord Kent. I’m sure the Crusader’s Rose will make a very nice addition to your garden.”

“You think it a waste of time,” he said coolly. “Far better if I were spending my time at race tracks and in card hells, like George. Now there’s an occupation for a gentleman.”

Her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkled. God, she was beautiful. Far too beautiful for his brother…

Marissa fought her anger and won. She gave a little shrug. “I have been on more expeditions than you can imagine. I’ve stood in the burning sun and the driving rain. I know how it works. And I have no desire to take part in your expedition, Lord Kent!”

“Well, that is unfortunate,” Valentine drawled, “because as my houseguest I intend taking you on a little expedition tomorrow, Miss Rotherhild. I promise there will be no burning sun or driving rain, just a civilized jaunt to a pretty nearby village and a brief ramble through a garden. My expeditions are nothing like Professor Rotherhild’s. You may even enjoy this one so much you will want to go on another.”

“What if I don’t want to go?” She wasn’t smiling.

“You can wait here for George if you wish. I’m sure he will appreciate your concern and patience in sitting quietly at the window, watching for his return. Would you like me to burn a candle in the window to show him the way home? When he’s tired of doing whatever he’s doing and remembers he has guests, that is.”

The emotions played over her face and he read them accurately. She didn’t want to be seen as patiently awaiting George’s return, she was too proud for that, and despite loyally sticking up for him she must also be angry with him for forgetting her. It was altogether too easy for Valentine to persuade her to his will.

“Oh, very well,” she said crossly. “I will come with you on your expedition. But I warn you, if it so much as drizzles I demand to be taken home. I loathe being rained upon.”

Jasper looked at Valentine, his eyes dark with laughter. “What say you to that, Kent?”

“Very well, Miss Rotherhild, I accept your conditions. And I think you are being very wise in not waiting for George’s return.”

“George would be here if he could.” She shot him a combative look. “Something must have prevented him.”

Valentine heaved a sigh. “I swear to you I don’t know where my brother is, nor have I locked him up in the dungeons. I wish you would understand that George can look after himself very well. He always has.”

She said nothing.

“I’m sure Miss Rotherhild will be a useful addition to our party,” Jasper began mildly. “Although there is the possibility of Von Hautt…”

“Von Hautt? You mentioned that name before. You accused me of being his spy. Who is Von Hautt?” Marissa demanded, clearly requiring an answer.

“A fellow searcher for the Crusader’s Rose,” Valentine replied briefly. “He is a hot head. I do not believe him to be dangerous but he can be a nuisance.”

“I am not afraid of danger.” She spoke with scorn, lifting her chin, and once more Valentine found himself completely captivated. This was the woman he wanted at his side as he searched for the rose; it was a pity she claimed not to care for his quest.

But that didn’t mean, given a little time and effort, that he could not change her mind.

“You see, Kent, Miss Rotherhild isn’t afraid of danger,” Jasper said, with a droll look.