A Most Sinful Proposal (The Husband Hunters Club 2)

Valentine had left his horse hidden at the edge of the garden and made his way through narrow paths and overgrown tunnels toward the front door. He planned to test it first and if it was locked then he would try the back door that led to the servants’ stairs.

The light was still plainly visible, a soft glow through the broken shutters in one of the upper windows. Possibly Von Hautt didn’t realize the lamp was showing or that the shutter was broken, but Valentine thought it more likely that the man was so arrogant he did not consider the necessity for circumspection.

He reached the front door and stood a moment, listening, but there was nothing more than the soft patter of rain and the creaking of the crickets from the garden. Resting his hand on the damp-warped paneling, he gave the door a push. It remained shut. Next he rested his shoulder against the paneling and pushed harder. This time the door moved, slightly, inward, but it was as if something was preventing it from opening fully.

Setting his boots at an angle against the surface of the porch, he gathered his strength and shoved the paneling, hard. This time it moved further but there was a tremendous groaning, grating sound that echoed through the entire house.

Valentine froze.

He knew, with a sense of grim acceptance, that the baron must have heard it. Even if he was sleeping such a hideous noise would wake him at once. His plan to catch his enemy unawares was now impossible. He could abandon it and return to the inn or carry on regardless.

Making up his mind swiftly, he peered through the gap in the door. There was a dresser that had been set against it and had now moved enough to allow him to squeeze in. Valentine paused a moment, holding his breath, but there was no sound or movement from the stairs, and he quickly crept across the entrance to one of the doors and slipped inside, pressing himself to the wall behind it.

Just in time.

The stair treads groaned as someone descended. Valentine set his eye against the crack in the half-open door. At first he could

only see a shadow, but as the figure moved closer he was able to make out Augustus Von Hautt, his gray hair silver in the faint moonlight from the high windows, wearing the same long jacket over his riding clothes. It was only as he turned to look about him that Valentine saw the pistol in his hand.

For what seemed a long time the baron peered into the shadows, rather like a hunting animal seeking its prey, and then he moved toward the rooms on the other side of the hall and began, systematically, to search them.

It would only be a matter of time until he found Valentine.

There was a chance, however, he could get away while the baron was in one of the other rooms. Valentine waited until he was out of sight, and quickly came through the door, meaning to make his way into the shadows farther down the hall. He’d only taken a couple of strides when the worst happened.

“Halt!”

Slowly he turned to face his enemy.

Von Hautt was standing, booted legs apart, the pistol trained on him, a smile on his youthful face. “Ah, Valentine,” he said, with deep satisfaction. “I hoped it might be you.”

Valentine found himself rigid with tension and he forced his muscles to relax. He needed to get the baron off his guard.

“I saw your footprints in the dust,” the baron went on, waving the barrel of his pistol in the direction of the floor. “But I thought it best to play a game with you, let you think you could escape. You are behaving a little like a rat in a trap, Valentine. I had thought better of you. Why did you not call out. Face me man-to-man.”

Valentine gestured at the pistol. “For the very reason I see before me now. You are armed, Von Hautt, and I am not. I do not trust you.”

Von Hautt looked insulted. “You do not trust me?” he said haughtily. “That is ironic, my friend, considering how your family has treated mine in the past.”

Valentine tried to understand what he meant but could not. His bafflement must have been obvious, and it made Von Hautt angry.

“Do not pretend you do not understand!” he shouted. “I know you are well aware of what your father did, and the consequences for me. Do you think I would allow you to escape the punishment you deserve? Do you?”

And he raised the pistol until the barrel was aimed at Valentine’s heart, his finger tightening on the trigger. Valentine felt light-headed, and yet he could not run. He could not move. Marissa, he thought, with an ache of longing. The life he’d dreamed of, the happy future he’d imagined with her, would never now come to pass.

Chapter 31

Marissa saw the house at last. It really did look like a dark bird of prey against the sky. The moon had slipped beneath the clouds and the rain had returned, just lightly, but enough to cause the cloak to become damp and her face damper as she struggled to see ahead. Now she turned the horse up the narrow lane to the gate where she had been earlier today, and saw that Valentine had left his own mount hidden by the overgrown garden.

Seeing it there was comforting. He was here after all. It was only as she glanced up at the manor house that she saw the wedge of light coming through the shutters in the upper window, and her heart sank again.

Augustus Von Hautt was here as well.

Quickly she climbed over the gate, jumping down onto the muddy ground, and began to make her way toward the house. As she drew closer to the portico she saw that the front door was ajar, leaving a black and sinister gap. She hesitated, uncertain whether to approach any closer in case someone was waiting for her on the other side, but then she heard the voices.

Two voices. Although she could not make out what they were saying she recognized one of them instantly as Valentine’s, and the other she was almost certain was the baron’s.

They were inside the house, beyond the narrow opening in the door. Marissa crept closer, onto the portico, and edged toward the voices.