A Most Sinful Proposal (The Husband Hunters Club 2)

“Hours ago, my lord. At least, we think he left. But my lady doesn’t

believe it. She believes he’s still hiding somewhere about the house.”

“Lord Kent?” a husky, wavery voice came through the door from the other side. “Is that you?”

“Yes, it is me. Unlock the door, Lady Longhurst.”

The scrape of the key in the lock, and the clunk of the bolt being released. Valentine twisted the handle and the door opened wide.

There were candles everywhere—a year’s supply of wax gone up in one night—and the blaze of light was so bright it made Marissa blink. Lady Longhurst stood in the center of the room, a shawl wrapped around what appeared to be her chemise, in her stockinged feet. Her hair was tangled and falling down around her face. She was more like a tragic victim than the beautiful elegant lady Marissa remembered. Her lower lip was swollen and caked with dried blood, and there was evidence of tears streaking her cheeks. She clutched the door key in her hands, twisting it around and around, while her gaze was fixed on Valentine.

“Lady Longhurst?” Valentine was as startled as Marissa.

“He seemed such a gentleman,” the lady said, her face pinched and white. “Such a—a gentleman.”

The beauty Marissa remembered was still there, but now there was a ravaged quality to it. She felt a wave of pity.

“Lady Longhurst?” she said gently. “Are you able to tell us what happened?”

The woman shuddered. “What happened?” she cried in a rising, wavering voice. “I was assaulted, that was what happened.” She lifted her tangled hair from one side of her face, and disclosed a livid mark high on her cheek. Then she tilted her head, showing another mark on the side of her neck. “There are others,” she said, “but I will not show them to you.” She closed her eyes for a moment, withdrawing into herself. “What will my husband say?” she whispered. “Dear Lord, what will he say?”

Valentine took her arm, his touch, his voice gentle. “I am so sorry you suffered at Baron Von Hautt’s hands. Can you tell us what happened after we left? It may help us to find him.”

She looked up at him and her face came to life. Tears streamed out of her eyes, dripping down onto her shawl, while her mouth shook and trembled. Her hands continued to twist the key, until Valentine placed his hands over them, and held them tightly within his own.

“H-he seemed so cultured,” she sobbed. “So continental. I believed he was the sort of man I could confide in, whom I could trust to…to…”

She looked up wildly, and it was Marissa who answered.

“I understand. He betrayed your trust.”

“Yes,” she spat. “He was a filthy creature of no conscience and no soul.”

It took time and patience, but gradually the truth came out one painful piece at a time. Lady Longhurst had indeed found Baron Von Hautt charming and pleasant company, and she’d chosen to invite him into her bedchamber for some mutual enjoyment. She was a lonely woman, and now she admitted that her husband had a young mistress in London, so she was also feeling neglected. The baron seemed like the sort of man who would understand her offer was for a casual afternoon of enjoyment and after they’d both taken their fill then he would leave.

However it didn’t happen as Lady Longhurst had hoped, and before too long she began to realize that she had made a terrible mistake. All began as it should, with wine and conversation in her boudoir, but his kisses were rough and painful, and suddenly Lady Longhurst no longer trusted him. She ordered him to leave, but he refused, and a moment later his façade of charming gentleman peeled away to reveal the real creature beneath. Despite her struggles and protests he would not desist in his rough lovemaking.

“He told me that to be hurt was what a woman such as me deserved.” By now Lady Longhurst was sobbing bitterly. “He told me that only a whore would offer herself to another when she was already married. He said—said he needed to teach me a lesson about f-fidelity that I would never f-forget.”

Once the story was told, Lady Longhurst became incoherent for some time, and Valentine carried her to her bedchamber, where Marissa and the maid put her to bed with a sedative. Eventually she fell asleep.

Marissa stroked her hair, looking down at the bruised and ravaged face, now pale and peaceful. She knew Lady Longhurst had been foolish and perhaps arrogant in her belief that her position would keep her safe, but she didn’t deserve what had happened to her. She was not part of the quest for the rose and yet Von Hautt had chosen to make her suffer.

Leaving the maid with her lady, Marissa went to seek out Valentine. She found him in deep discussion with the servants, but when he saw her, he broke off and led her into a room where they were able to be private.

“I understand why she didn’t call anyone who lived nearby Canthorpe,” Marissa said unhappily. “She’s embarrassed, vulnerable, and she feels as if it was her fault for trusting him. Baron Von Hautt must know that. What sort of creature is he, Valentine, to prey upon a sad and lonely woman?”

He reached to take her hand in his, squeezing her fingers comfortingly. “You were right to come, Marissa. She did need a woman’s support.”

After a little while Marissa managed to shake off the image of Lady Longhurst’s bruised and injured body. “What did the servants say?”

“They say they heard nothing at all until Lady Longhurst began screaming and when they came to her aid they found her door locked. By the time they’d broken it down, the baron was gone, escaping through a window and into the garden.”

“So he is gone?”

“It appears so.”

Marissa sighed. “I am sorry I thought badly of her,” she said. “No one deserves to be treated like that. He must be a madman.”