A Most Sinful Proposal (The Husband Hunters Club 2)

George opened his mouth, closed it again. His sense that this man was unpredictable and dangerous was growing, and any dreams he’d had of capturing him were gone. All he wanted to do now was to get away from him in one piece.

“Valentine will not find the rose in Magna Midcombe,” Von Hautt said with a sneer. “Unless he believes it is hidden under Miss Rotherhild’s skirts.” He smirked. “She is a very beautiful woman.”

“What has Miss Rotherhild to do with you?” George shouted. “Have you been spying? You damned filthy coward…” Rage overcame self-preservation and he tried to grasp the other man’s shirtfront, meaning to shake him like a dog. But Von Hautt was too quick for him, or perhaps George was more affected than he thought by the amount of ale he’d imbibed.

The man loomed over him, those icy blue eyes staring into his. “It will be I who finds the rose,” he said softly, “and you will all be very sorry that you turned your backs on me and my mother.”

He was gone.

George swallowed, leaning back against the brick wall and trying not to sag to the ground. The fellow was completely bonkers. He made no sense at all. But that didn’t mean he was any less dangerous.

George straightened up. He needed to get home to Abbey Thorne Manor and talk to Valentine. Turning, he made his way back to the tavern. One more drink, he thought. He deserved another ale after what he’d just been through. Yes, a drink to bolster his spirits. And then he’d fetch his horse from the stable and go home.

Chapter 16

Dinner at Abbey Thorne Manor was a leisurely affair. Lord Jasper and Lady Bethany looked as if they’d been drinking the elixir of life, their faces content and glowing in the candlelight. Marissa wondered what they’d been up to while she was in Magna Midcombe, but she didn’t ask. Even when a besotted Jasper lifted her grandmother’s hand and placed a kiss on it, she thought it best to pretend not to notice Things between them must have reached a new level of intimacy to be so open in their affections. Valentine also politely ignored the obvious, although she saw him giving his friend a quizzical look.

He was also ignoring Marissa and she was beginning to wonder if she’d imagined the intimacies they’d shared. Had Valentine really offered to teach her about pleasure? And had she really agreed?

“Did you know that Lady B was an artist, Kent?” Jasper demanded.

“Indeed I did not,” Valentine said evenly. “What sort of artist?”

“I paint,” Lady Bethany replied with a little smile. “My daughter and son-in-law wanted someone to make a record of their discoveries, so I have been painting pictures of plants ever since.”

“You must ask her to immortalize the Crusader’s Rose when you find it!” Jasper seemed unable to keep the grin off his face.

“Of course. When I find it.”

The meal finished, Jasper and Lady Bethany went to take a turn about the garden. Marissa wasn’t sure if she wanted time alone with Valentine—she needed time to compose herself—but he excused himself, telling her he had some estate business to deal with and that his land manager awaited him. So Marissa enjoyed a rare moment alone, pretending to read one of the novels she found in the bookcase.

In reality she was pondering her situation.

She’d set her sights on George but she’d be a fool not to realize by now that it wasn’t thoughts of Geor

ge keeping her awake at night. Every inch of her being called to Valentine and when he made his offer to her she’d known it was right to accept. She may well be following a path that would lead her astray but nevertheless she had to do it. She had to discover for once and for all whether Valentine was the man for her.

“Are you tired?”

His voice startled her; she hadn’t heard him enter. He was standing in the doorway and she didn’t know how long he’d been watching her.

“A little. Why?”

“I had planned a little game, but if you prefer we can leave it until tomorrow.”

Something wicked in his eyes caught her attention. A warmth spread through her limbs, and she felt languid in a way that had nothing to do with feeling tired. Marissa laid her book aside. “What little game do you have in mind?”

With a smile, Valentine closed the door behind him and came to join her. “I have been remembering an incident that happened when I was a green youth of eighteen, first exploring London. I’ve never forgotten it.”

“How intriguing.” Marissa gave him an encouraging smile.

He sat down and, reaching into his pocket, took out a pair of dice. “I went to a gaming club—not my first, but this one was rather different. I wasn’t greatly interested in gaming even then, but some friend or other persuaded me that this club really must be visited at least once if you were to begin to shrug off your country dust and think of yourself as a urbane gentleman of the world.”

“And what was so different about this gaming club?”

“There was an area at the back, a room in which guests could play the game of their choice, while others were allowed to watch through a series of discreet and very narrow windows.”

“But who were they and why would they want to watch?” Marissa said, and only realized she’d been naïve when he laughed softly.