A Most Sinful Proposal (The Husband Hunters Club 2)

“I am not buying a new hat,” Marissa said, bewildered.

“No, of course not.” The wicked sparkle lit her eyes. “I will speak frankly then, Marissa. It is better to spend an afternoon in bed with a man and discover if he’s really the one you want to spend your life with, rather than marry him and find yourself a prisoner of unhappiness. Now you are shocked!”

“No, I—I don’t think so. Are you giving me permission to ruin my reputation, Grandmamma?”

“If it saves you a lifetime of misery with the wrong man? By all means.”

Marissa wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Only her grandmother could say such a shocking thing and make perfect sense.

“Thank you, Grandmamma,” she said softly.

Lady Bethany patted her cheek. “Good girl. Now off you go to breakfast. And if you love me, please say nothing of this to your parents.”

“Of course not.”

They smiled at each other in perfect understanding.

George saw her first, and strode across the breakfast room to clasp her hands warmly in his. “I am sorry, Marissa. I hope you’ll forgive me for my thoughtlessness in not being here to greet you? Although my brother tells me that what I did was utterly unforgivable.”

He was as handsome and affable as ever, his expression a mixture of good humor and apology, as if like an overindulged child he fully expected to be forgiven his transgressions.

Her waspish thought surprised her and she glanced at Valentine, as if afraid he’d read her mind. But Valentine was pretending to ignore them and drinking his coffee. She noticed that his jacket was rumpled, but he’d tied his necktie today and his hair was brushed, although it was long enough to fall into his eyes as he bent his head to sip from his cup.

Her fingers itched to push it back. She had a sudden image of herself, sitting on his lap and kissing his lips in between feeding him pieces of buttered toast.

Sharp tingles of desire reminded her of her fragile state and she took a deep breath, concentrating on George.

“I did wonder where you were when I arrived,” she said in a voice that strove to be calm but sounded peevish. “What if you’d been kidnapped by Baron Von Hautt? How would we know? Perhaps it would do you good if I did refuse to forgive you, George.”

George glanced at her sideways, not expecting her to react like she did. He was used to instant forgiv

eness and smiling understanding. In chastened silence he pulled out a chair opposite his brother and waited until she was settled before returning to his own seat.

“Would you pay the ransom to get me back?” His eyes were sparkling although his voice strove to be contrite.

“No,” Valentine replied shortly.

George looked crestfallen.

“Of course we would,” Marissa said, her heart softening just as it always did.

George laughed and began to spread marmalade on a slice of toast. “I’m glad someone is on my side. I knew I could rely on you, Marissa.”

“This isn’t a matter of sides,” Valentine said mildly. “One day you’re going to have to grow up, George, and think of others rather than yourself.”

George appeared crestfallen but as before he soon rallied; he could never be serious for long. Marissa watched them as their banter continued, amused by what was clearly a habit of long standing. Despite his stern demeanor it was obvious to her that Valentine was very fond of his younger brother, and it was equally clear that the feeling was returned by George.

“I have apologized to Marissa for abandoning her to my ogre of a brother,” George said. “You do forgive me, don’t you, Marissa?”

“Of course, George. I have been well taken care of.”

But not as well as I would like.

Suddenly, as if he was aware of her thoughts, Valentine looked directly at her. His blue eyes blazed. She felt scorched. Almost instantly they both looked away.

Shocked and breathless, Marissa’s hands were trembling as she pushed aside the remains of her breakfast. Just one look and she was reduced to a quivering wreck. How could this have happened to sensible Marissa Rotherhild in so short a time? It was as if Valentine had scrambled her brains with his kisses. What she needed to do was to start kissing George and then, surely, she’d soon forget his brother?

She had her grandmother’s permission to spend an afternoon in bed. Wasn’t that what Lady Bethany had said? To try a man on like a new hat to see if he suited? What would Valentine say if she told him that?