A Most Sinful Proposal (The Husband Hunters Club 2)

She looked down and saw Lady Bethany’s face turned up to her, her voice a thin sound, her words inaudible. There were others there, too, watching, horrified, as the drama was played out. She couldn’t see Valentine and wondered in despair where he was.

“Let her go.”

She thought she was imagining his voice, but when she turned Valentine’s fair head appeared over the baron’s shoulder as he climbed the last few steps to the top of the tower.

“Valentine,” she whispered, too frightened to move. What if the baron attacked him and threw him over the edge?

But Augustus was beaming. “Brother. I’m so glad you’ve come. She is like a savage. I am going to have to teach her obedience. Tell her she is mine now. Tell her what we decided.”

Marissa met Valentine’s eyes and gave a little shake of her head, trying to make him understand that Augustus was not to be reasoned with. But Valentine must have seen that for himself.

“Refresh my memory, brother. What did we decide?” he asked in a calm voice.

“That I would marry Miss Rotherhild and live at Abbey Thorne Manor, because I am the eldest son. I am the heir.”

Valentine paused and then shook his head, slowly, regretfully. “No, Augustus, I didn’t decide that. I am marrying Marissa, not you. You need to go back to the hospital. You’re not well.”

“Please, Augustus,” Marissa added, now that Valentine had chosen to be honest and no longer play along with the baron’s fantasies. “They can help you there. Let us take you back to London.”

He stared back and forth between them. To Marissa’s relief he didn’t try to argue or insist his own version of matters was the true one. Instead he went still, his expression solemn, as if he’d known all along.

“No, I am not going back,” he said matter-of-factly. “I can’t go back. Bo-bo understands. She says she’ll look after me, just as she u

sed to. She was my nanny, you know, when I stayed at Beauchamp Place. She’s the only one who ever loved me.”

I should hate him, thought Marissa. He was going to hurt me. He’s hurt others.

But something in his voice, in his face, inspired pity, too. Augustus had been hurt, he had suffered, and perhaps the madness had more to do with that than anything else.

“Bo-bo can come to see you, when you’re settled,” Valentine said. “I can arrange that. Come down with me now and we’ll talk to her.”

“Augustus!” The voice was a cry from the heart, and when they looked down they could see Mrs. Beaumaris below, hands clasped to her bosom, gazing up.

The sight of her seemed to stir something in him. Perhaps he saw how much he’d lost and would never have again. And perhaps he realized he didn’t want to be locked up in London and it was better to be free.

Before either Valentine or Marissa could move, he took two strides to the stone balustrade and swung his leg over the edge. A moment when everything was still, even the breeze seemed to have stopped, and then he stepped into nothingness.

His coat floated outward, like dark wings against the soft pink of the sky, and Marissa remembered the first time she’d seen him on the hillside above Montfitchet. She turned away before he struck the ground, not wanting to see. There was a scream from Mrs. Beaumaris, shouts from the others, and then Valentine’s arms came around her, pressing her close, and she wept.

Chapter 37

The little church was resplendent. Sunlight was shining in the stained glass windows onto the polished benches and pews, groaning with well-wishers. Aristocrats rubbed shoulders with plant enthusiasts who were squeezed next to the villagers. Enormous bunches of roses were everywhere, filling the air with their lush scent. Valentine stood before the altar, spick-and-span in his groom’s clothes, while George and Jasper waited beside him. As the organist began to play the bridal march, everyone turned, craning their necks for a first glimpse of the bride.

Marissa started up the aisle on her father’s arm. Her pink bridal gown seemed to glow like mother of pearl, her dark hair loose about her shoulders beneath a simple lace veil. Her face shone with happiness, her dark eyes finding Valentine, as he stood in the light that poured through the arched windows.

She felt strangely calm.

The emotion had threatened to overwhelm her while she was preparing and then driving to the church, but now she was here, a feeling of tranquility came over her. This was the moment she would pledge herself to Valentine; nothing could go wrong now. They were about to embark on the greatest adventure of all.

When she reached him, he was smiling, his blue eyes brighter than she’d ever seen them. “Minx, you take my breath away,” he whispered, the words for her alone.

The vicar cleared his throat, beaming upon them, and began the service.

After a moment she felt Valentine stiffen. She glanced sideways at him, wondering what was wrong, and found his gaze fixed on something to the side, beyond where the professor stood with her dearest friends from Miss Debenham’s Finishing School.

“Valentine?”

His eyes widened. “It can’t be,” he breathed.