A Most Sinful Proposal (The Husband Hunters Club 2)

p; “Good heavens, Kent! Congratulations to you. To you both.”

Smiling, Marissa and Valentine accepted their good wishes with obvious pleasure.

“Morris! Fetch the best champagne,” George ordered. “Lord Kent is to be married!”

Morris looked properly astonished, but there was a satisfied gleam in his eye as he wished them well. When the champagne was brought and the toast made, George demanded to know what date the wedding would be set for. “As I may have to rearrange my social schedule,” he explained thoughtfully.

His brother snorted, but before he could offer his own observations on George’s schedule, Morris cleared his throat and intervened.

“I think, my lord, it depends on how soon and how large you wish the wedding to be.”

Valentine glanced at Marissa.

“My answer to that is as soon as possible,” he replied.

“Then, if you forgive me, m’lord, it would be difficult to arrange a large wedding in limited time.”

“What about a small wedding?” he asked, beginning to look a little desperate.

“We could manage a date one month hence,” the indefatigable Morris said evenly.

“A whole month!” Valentine cried.

“Any sooner and I fear the celebration might be lacking. I should dislike it very much if Abbey Thorne Manor was not at its best for the occasion. And if Your Lordship and miss require suitable clothing for the ceremony, there are seamstresses and tailors to be consulted,” Morris went on firmly. “I presume you do want to look spick-and-span on the day, my lord? If you do not look like a proper bridegroom then I fear I will not be able to take charge of the arrangements.”

It sounded like a warning and Valentine sighed. “Very well, if I must, Morris. I will leave it in your capable hands.”

“Oh yes, Marissa, you must have a bride’s dress!” her grandmother declared, looking twenty years younger. “How exciting! Your mother refused to allow me any part in her wedding. They were married in a forest and she held a bouquet of ferns, pouf! This time I insist upon being consulted before any decisions are made.”

“Of course, Grandmamma,” she said quietly. “I have no argument with that. Your taste is impeccable.”

Lady Bethany barely had time to preen. “My dear, we must go up to London immediately and begin. Where will the ceremony be held?”

“In the village church,” Valentine said quickly. Then, with a wry glance at Marissa, “If that is acceptable to you, Marissa?”

She wasn’t meeting his eyes, which worried him, but her voice was adamant. “The village church would be perfect. I don’t want it in London. Then Father and Mother would feel obliged to invite all of their botanical friends.”

Lady Bethany shuddered. “Oh lord, yes, how revolting. Of course some of them will still turn up, you know that. They will probably set about collecting botanical specimens in the churchyard. No, we must keep it small, and hope for the best.”

“I—I would like my friends from Miss Debenham’s to come, but other than that…” Marissa said.

“It will be necessary to invite some of the local families,” Valentine said. “And George and Jasper,” he added with a grin. “Afterward we will take our honeymoon on the Island of Reunion, or Bourbon as the French are currently calling it.”

Valentine was becoming rather worried about his wife-to-be’s lack of joy in this talk of the wedding, and he was glad to see Marissa’s face brighten at the mention of the honeymoon. “Why there?”

“Because it is a paradise, my love, and you deserve a paradise.”

“And there are a great many roses growing there,” George added mockingly.

“Well, yes, there are roses,” Valentine admitted, with a frown at his brother. “We may need to travel overland through France and Spain, and perhaps even the deserts of Arabia. We may be gone for a very long time.”

Suddenly he was no longer certain whether he was doing the right thing. Perhaps Marissa would prefer a honeymoon in Brighton or Cornwall. Doubts grew inside him and for a moment Vanessa’s poison bubbled up, threatening to ruin all his happiness.

Marissa’s hand rested on his, her smile warmer than the sunlight through the window, soothing his fears. “I shall love it, Valentine.” Her smile faded slightly. “But are you sure you can spare the time away from your work? Your studies?”

“I believe my work can wait,” he assured her.

“Then, yes, I would love to travel with you to Bourbon.”