A Most Sinful Proposal (The Husband Hunters Club 2)

“Did your London friend discover anything more about the Prideaux family?” she asked, while they paused to allow a farmer to drive his sheep across the road from one field to another.

“Yes, he did. He wrote that the last female Prideaux married a Longhurst, but they continued to reside at the Prideaux manor. The manor is called Canthorpe, and it is still there—more or less. This is the best chance, the most likely chance, we have of finding the rose, Marissa.”

That would explain his restless excitement. And she hoped he would find his rose, she really did. But, if he did find the rose today, then what would become of her? A sense of loss filled her, but her feelings were more complicated. She’d come here on a husband hunting expedition and ended up with the wrong man. If Valentine found his rose and turned his back on her, she would be left with nothing.

Not that she cared about returning home a spinster. She’d rather be alone than marry the wrong man—that was what hunting the right husband was all about. But she was beginning to believe that the wrong man was in fact the right man, the man she should have been hunting all along.

“You’re very quiet,” Valentine said.

Marissa was too proud to want him to see the true state of her emotions. As far as Valentine was concerned she was a woman of the world, a woman who planned to lead a free and unfettered Bohemian life. If he discovered that she was actually longing for a cozy hearth, husband and children, then he’d probably ride off at top speed. She suspected his opinions on domestic bliss were grim to say the least.

Marissa couldn’t bear him to pity her or avoid her.

So she smiled and played her part and said, “I was thinking about your quest, Valentine. If the rose is at Canthorpe and you find it…”

The change of subject worked. He was soon too involved in discussing his quest to notice her introspection. All she needed to do was nod understandingly, smile occasionally, and return to her own thoughts.

But she was wrong. Valentine was more observant than she’d imagined.

“Marissa? Marissa!”

She blinked at him, trying to remember what he’d been saying, but something in her eyes must have given her away. His own gaze sharpened and when he spoke it was in that stiff, autocratic manner.

“What is it? You’re miles away. You’re thinking about last night, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not. I’d forgotten all about it.”

They both fell silent again. For her part Marissa was busy pretending not to care.

“Last night—” he began.

“You must live your life as you see fit,” she interrupted airily.

“Last night—”

“That was the agreement we made, remember? Neither of us are bound by the other. No recriminations, no explanations.”

“Stop it!” he said in a deep, shaken voice.

Surprised, she finally looked at him and saw that he was angry. Really angry. For a moment she was at a loss. Should she continue with her chosen role or open her heart to him? But anyway it didn’t matter because he was the one doing the talking.

“Do you really believe a word of that stuff you spout at me? I know you’re upset over last night. You’ve convinced yourself that I don’t really want you, that I’m the sort of cad who plays games with innocents.”

“Now you’re being silly,” she managed but her voice shook and he wasn’t convinced.

“If you think I’m going to allow you to go off and throw yourself at some…some bloody bounder then you are seriously array in the head, my girl,” he growled.

“But you agreed—”

“I never agreed. No gentleman would agree to allow a lady to ruin herself, no matter what she thought she wanted. Last night you accused me of treating you as if you didn’t know your own mind. Of not understanding you. But do you understand me, Marissa? If you did then you’d know I could never allow you to run off and join the demimonde.”

“Allow me? You don’t own me,” she said in a low, trembling voice. “We are not married, Valentine.”

“Not yet!” he roared.

She blinked. She was finding it difficult to understand what was going on in his head, but one thing was for certain, it wasn’t what she’d thought was going on. Did he want to marry her after all? And was that because he genuinely wanted to spend his life with her, or because he wanted to protect her like the proper gentleman he was?

She tried to clear her head. If the latter was his reason then it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t ever going to be enough. And she’d rather leave right now and go and live her life in Yell, collecting specimens for her father, than marry a man who asked her out of obligation. Wasn’t that why the Husband Hunters Club was formed in the first place? As a protest against such recipes for misery?