A Most Sinful Proposal (26 page)

Marissa turned and took a step downward.

The next moment he had hold of her by the shoulders, pulling her backward, his fingers bruising her flesh. She struggled, kicking back at his shins, although her skirts impeded her efforts to escape.

“Let me go!” She struck back with her elbow, catching him in the stomach and he howled in pain. Marissa had forgotten his wound, but now it had the required effect, and he let her go.

Panting, her hair tangled about her face and shoulders, she stumbled away from him. Although bent over, his hand to his aching stomach, Augustus was watching her. His face was white, his mouth a rictus smile. He was standing between Marissa and the stairs. There was no other way off the tower, unless it was to jump.

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 used 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.

T
he 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.

People had noticed now. There was a murmur behind them, and the vicar was stumbling a little over the familiar words.

He stepped past her, ignoring the shocked expression of the vicar and the exclamations of their guests. “Valentine?” she hissed, and followed. He reached a large vase of flowers on a plinth and leaned forward, his face almost hidden in the flowers. With a trembling hand he lifted one of the roses free, causing several others to be disarranged and tumble about his feet.

“I say, Kent, old chap,” Jasper said nervously, glancing around. “You are about to get married.”

“Valentine, don’t you think you should—” George began.

“Valentine?” Marissa put her hand on his arm.

But Valentine had turned to her and his face was ablaze. He took her hand and placed something in it. She looked down, confused, and saw that it was a rose. A rose the color of a Jerusalem sunrise, pink and gold and orange.

It took only a heartbeat for her to realize what this must be, what this must mean. Her eyes lifted in wonder to his.

“The Crusader’s Rose,” he said triumphantly. “I have found the Crusader’s Rose.”

The church erupted. Jasper was there, his hands shaking as he took the rose reverentially in his own hands, and then Lady Bethany was peering over their shoulders. It took some time for everyone to settle down. Eventually, Marissa was able to ask a question.

“But where has it come from?”

The vicar thought all the roses had come from gardens in the village and nearby area. Through a process of elimination they discovered this particular rose had come from Mrs. Horton’s garden, at the edge of the village.

As soon as he heard that, Valentine took Marissa’s hand in his, and they set off out of the church and along the village street, the congregation trailing after them. Marissa picked up her skirts, petals falling from her bouquet, while Valentine hurried along at her side. She didn’t consider refusing to go or asking him to postpone his search. The Crusader’s Rose had become as important to her as him, and it seemed right and proper that it should be found on this day.

Their day.

Mrs. Horton hadn’t come to watch the wedding. She was old and unable to walk very far, and—the vicar said—it was decided by her relatives to let her rest at home. But she was in her garden when they reached her cottage, using a cane to stay upright, as she busied herself tying back an unruly clematis.

She looked up, mouth ajar, as Lord Kent and his bride arrived at her gate and proceeded into her garden, followed by a crowd of guests.

“Mrs. Horton,” Valentine said, taking her hand. “Forgive our intrusion.”

“It isn’t an intrusion, my lord,” she replied. “I wasn’t expecting you, is all.”

Her sangfroid elicited a ripple of laughter.

“This rose,” he said, and he held up the Crusader’s Rose. “Is it yours, Mrs. Horton?”

She nodded. “Aye, it is. Over here, my lord. You can see it’s a fine strong bush. Likes a warm place, though. But if it’s happy it flowers on and on.”

Valentine stood staring at the rose bush, every inch of it covered in bright blooms. Marissa blinked back tears, knowing what he must be feeling, and managed a smile for the puzzled Mrs. Horton.

“Was this rose always in your garden?” she said.

“Goodness me, no, Your Ladyship! I was walking out by the manor one day—I was younger then, of course—and I spied it growing in a hedgerow. It was struggling there, but I liked the flowers, so I took a cutting and grew it myself. I hope you don’t mind. It didn’t belong to no one; it was just growing wild in the hedgerow.”

“Mind?” Valentine said. “Mrs. Horton, you are a wonderful, wonderful woman!”

She blushed bright red.

Unable to contain himself, Valentine grabbed hold of Marissa and swung her around, her wedding dress belling out.

It was decided to continue the wedding ceremony in Mrs. Horton’s garden, and it was there before the Crusader’s Rose that Valentine and Marissa made their vows and were declared husband and wife, while everyone watched on.

“So romantic,” murmured Marissa’s friends from Miss Debenham’s, as they wished her well. “You have found the perfect husband, even if he isn’t the one you began with…”

“As long as he’s the one I end with,” Marissa said.

She looked up and caught Valentine’s gaze, and knew that as nice as it was to have her friends here with her, she was looking forward to being alone with her new husband. Tomorrow they would set off on their honeymoon, just the two of them, and she couldn’t wait.

Bourbon

I
t was warm, far warmer than an English evening. The insects hummed in the trees, as Valentine and Marissa walked down the narrow path toward the sandy beach. This was their last evening. Tomorrow they would be setting off on the journey home to England and Abbey Thorne Manor, to take up their lives as a married couple.

Marissa had enjoyed their honeymoon but it was time to go home, and she was looking forward to it.

She found herself missing the old manor house and the people she’d come to know and love, as well as her own family. Lady Bethany had sent a letter to say she and Jasper were well and Jasper was pestering her to marry him.

But there was a reason that made her a little nervous about returning, a reason she hadn’t told Valentine yet. It was silly to doubt him, she knew that—she’d believed all her doubts were laid to rest. Perhaps it was because everything had been so perfect; she just didn’t want to spoil it.

Valentine was growing restless, too. He was talking about the Crusader’s Rose and how he meant to ensure that this time it remained in his family for many generations to come. Morris had written to say the cutting Mrs. Horton provided was growing strongly and would be ready for planting by the time he returned.

They slipped off their shoes and walked barefoot down to the edge of the sea. The water sparkled silver and gold, catching the setting sun and reflecting it back like thousands of precious stones.

“You’re very quiet, minx,” Valentine said quietly, his fingers entwining with hers.

She smiled at him, her dimple showing. “I was thinking how much I will miss our island.”

“We could always stay longer.”

She tried to read his face—did he mean it or was he trying to please her? She’d found that with Valentine it was always best to tell the truth. “Thank you, Valentine, but actually I am a little homesick.”

His shoulders relaxed in relief and he leaned forward to kiss her. “Me, too.”

They walked again, as the light faded. Lamps on fishermen’s boats winked out in the dark ocean and the breeze tasted salty against her lips. A wave came in, washing over their feet, and they stopped to enjoy the sensation.

“Will it seem strange to you,” she began tentatively, “sharing your home with me? After so long doing very much as you wished, day after day?”

“My dearest girl, how can you ask such a thing? You were right when you said I was hiding from
life before you came along. I was too cowardly to take a chance, in case I was hurt again. I’d lost all confidence. But you’ve healed me. I will always be grateful to you for taking me in hand.”

“Valentine, it is you who healed me,” she cried, reaching up to fling her arms about his neck.

He held her against him.

Her voice was a warm mumble against his neck. “I’m asking you such a thing because I am concerned you will not be pleased with my news, Valentine.”

He stilled, aware of all the things that could go wrong and how terrified he was of losing her. “What do you mean?”

She told him.

His heart was pounding in his chest. Slowly he let her slide back to the sand and, with a shaking hand, tilted back her face, brushing aside the wayward strands of dark hair. Her eyes were shining up at him, her mouth on the verge of a smile, but there was doubt, too, and the hint of fear.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice deep and husky. “For making me the most fortunate of men.”

“Babies cry, Valentine, and children can be noisy. And naughty—”

He laughed. “I know; I was both.”

Valentine knew with a fierce certainty that when his son, or daughter, brought a treasure for him to see, he would not send them away. He would never make his child feel unwanted as he had, long ago.

He took a deep breath and told her so.

His wife listened, and then she looked at him as if he was the most wonderful man in the world. Valen
tine gave her another hug, enjoying her love for him, before they set off along the beach again.

There were plans to be made, dreams to be dreamed, a baby to prepare for, but for now they said nothing, simply enjoying being together.