Three Proposals and a Scandal (Sons of Sin 4.50)

Marianne could hardly bear to go through the motions of playing the perfect guest until she met Elias again. The glow of what he’d done to her last night had lingered all day. That breathtaking end to his caresses had left every muscle feeling like silk. Better than physical wellbeing was the certainty now lodged in her heart. She’d left herself open to him in every way and he’d justified her trust. Her father was wrong about Elias. He was a man of unshakable honor after all.

Last night, she’d been too overcome to tell Elias what she felt. But now, now she was ready to consent to become his wife.

She meant to marry Elias Thorne and defy her father.

Luckily at a country house party, strict standards of propriety relaxed. Back in London, arranging a private encounter would be more difficult. The sheer number of guests in the house aided intrigue. After dinner, the disparate group spread across the ground floor. Her father and his cronies, including Desborough, retreated to the library to swap endless hunting stories. The younger men played cards. Other guests passed the evening with music or joined Sidonie for tea in the drawing room.

Marianne was making her way to the drawing room when a maid curtsied to her. “Begging your pardon, my lady, the gentleman asked me to give you this.”

With shaking hands, Marianne accepted the sealed note and ripped it open. It contained two words. “The conservatory.”

Wanton anticipation spurred her. She slipped into the empty dining room and burned the note in the fireplace before setting out to meet Elias. When she hurried toward the annex, she hardly felt her feet touch the floor. Still she wasn’t completely lost to propriety. She paused before the glass doors to the large room crammed with palms, ferns and orchids. Carefully she checked to see who was there.

Lamps lit the plant-filled space to mystery. It appeared empty, but if Elias was here, he had every reason to keep out of sight.

Quietly she opened the double doors. Immediately she heard trickling water. Jonas’s collection of exotic specimens surrounded her with a pungent tropical scent. Rain slammed against the glass walls and roof, while inside, the tiles beneath her feet were warm.

Her heart raced as she made her way through the greenery, past mosaic fountains and statues of strange heathen gods. Discretion kept her from calling and the weather muffled her progress.

Finally she lifted a trailing vine heavy with waxy white flowers and saw a tall man standing in a clear space, his back to her. Disappointment struck her so hard that she released a soft groan. The blond man turned from watching the rain on the glass and grinned at her as if she was a birthday gift.

“L-Lord Tranter,” she said unevenly, retreating and bumping into the palm tree behind her.

“Lady Marianne,” he said ardently, catching her hand and bending over it. “Thank you for coming to me.”

His lips on her skin made her recoil. After admitting that she wanted nobody but Elias, Tranter’s touch disgusted her.

What on earth could she say to explain her presence? She couldn’t tell him she’d come so quickly because she’d been in a lather to see Elias Thorne. “My lord, what do you want?”

He kept grinning, deaf to her lack of enthusiasm. “My dear Marianne, your modesty does you credit. Surely you’ve guessed how I esteem and admire you.”

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.

Tranter’s words echoed Desborough’s and before that, Elias’s. “I’m…I’m grateful,” she stammered.

One would think after all this practice, she could respond to a proposal without turning a hair. She felt as flustered as she had last week when Elias had declared his intentions.

Tranter’s clasp tightened, preventing her from sidling away. “I hope you’re more than grateful before I’ve finished, my darling.

”

The endearment struck a false note. Before tonight he’d only ever addressed her formally. Now he claimed the right to use her Christian name and call her his darling.

“My lord—” she started in a repressive tone.

He dropped on one knee. “Marianne, I have loved you from the first. Your beauty and goodness have stolen my heart. Please do me the honor of saying you’ll be my wife. No woman will adorn the title of Countess Tranter more magnificently.”

This time, she managed to snatch free. She’d known he pursued her. He’d made his interest blatant. But after last night, his words seemed like blasphemy. The oiliness in his manner contrasted unpleasantly with Elias’s unconcealed emotion when he’d touched her.

She didn’t trust Tranter. She never had.

“My lord, much as I appreciate your interest, I’m afraid my answer is no.”

She didn’t know what reaction she expected to her refusal. Anger? Hurt? Disbelief? The too handsome face conveyed the same confidence.

“My lord, did you hear me?” she asked when he didn’t speak. “I cannot be your wife.”

“Of course you can,” he said with an arrogance that staggered her. “Your father may favor Desborough, but your wishes must count.”