something flared inside her, too. He made this adventure exciting—Valentine Kent was exciting.
How could she explain that to the Husband Hunters Club?
“Oh, by the way, I plan to marry George, but in the meanwhile I thought I might become infatuated with his brother…”
Her friends would think her flighty, but Marissa knew she’d never been that sort of girl. She was serious and cautious, more inclined to intellectual pursuits than balls and parties. For some reason Valentine Kent was having an odd and uncharacteristic effect on her.
Not that it would last. He was everything she had sworn to reject. A botanist with a quest, a man who found expeditions to find plants the highlight of his life, a man who poured over musty old books and dried specimens and whose conversation consisted of names in Latin. If she married such a man it would be as if she never left home.
George was her choice; George would give her a life completely different from the one she had. So what if he enjoyed a game of cards or a horse race? At least he would never force her to stand in a downpour armed with nothing more than a notebook and pencil while he crouched over plants exclaiming, “Magnificent. Look at this, Marissa. Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?”
Marissa gave a little shudder at the thought. The next time she turned her eyes to Valentine on the other side of the table, she found she could look at him with almost complete indifference.
After dinner, Jasper and Lady Bethany went out for a stroll in the garden before retiring. As she rosefrom her chair, Marissa’s grandmother raised her thin eyebrows and gave her granddaughter a questioning look.
Marissa didn’t need her to say what was on her mind. She was wondering why Marissa had involved herself in this expedition when she usually went out of her way to avoid such tedious adventures. She would want an explanation.
Restless and unsettled, Marissa rose and went to the window, gazing out over the moat and the park beyond. There was a copse of trees, dark against the fading twilight. They looked a little sinister, especially when a cloud of rooks flew up from the boughs and began a noisy protest.
“Jasper and your grandmother seem to be getting along very well,” Valentine said from the room behind her.
“Yes.”
“Is your grandfather alive?”
“No.” She cleared her throat. “He died a long time ago, before I was born. My grandmother has been a widow longer than she was ever a wife.”
“And she never remarried?”
“No, the single life suits her. She comes from a generation when marriage had little to do with love.”
“Does it ever?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“I suppose not. It’s just that…” Marissa found her tongue growing tangled, “well, my friends would rather not marry at all if they cannot find a man they…they admire enough to…to love.”
“And what about you, Miss Rotherhild?”
He wanted her to bare her heart to him? Marissawondered how on earth she had strayed into this topic. But perhaps it was a chance for her to reaffirm the Husband Hunters Club and their aims. She took a breath and turned to face him, her back to the window, her fingers gripping the sill behind her.
“I admire your friends for their idealism,” he spoke first, his gaze on hers steady and unreadable, “but unfortunately the world we inhabit does not value love in the making of a marriage.”
“That may be true of some people, Lord Kent, but not all.”
He raised a cynical eyebrow. “In the world we move in marriages are made through practical considerations—wealth, land, family connections. Love matches are accidental, or else unhappy failures.”
“George says—” She bit her lip.
Valentine raised his other eyebrow. “What words of great wisdom has my dear brother spoken on the matter, Miss Rotherhild? Come, do enlighten me.”
“Only that if you are going to spend most of your life with someone then surely it is better if
How could she explain that to the Husband Hunters Club?
“Oh, by the way, I plan to marry George, but in the meanwhile I thought I might become infatuated with his brother…”
Her friends would think her flighty, but Marissa knew she’d never been that sort of girl. She was serious and cautious, more inclined to intellectual pursuits than balls and parties. For some reason Valentine Kent was having an odd and uncharacteristic effect on her.
Not that it would last. He was everything she had sworn to reject. A botanist with a quest, a man who found expeditions to find plants the highlight of his life, a man who poured over musty old books and dried specimens and whose conversation consisted of names in Latin. If she married such a man it would be as if she never left home.
George was her choice; George would give her a life completely different from the one she had. So what if he enjoyed a game of cards or a horse race? At least he would never force her to stand in a downpour armed with nothing more than a notebook and pencil while he crouched over plants exclaiming, “Magnificent. Look at this, Marissa. Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?”
Marissa gave a little shudder at the thought. The next time she turned her eyes to Valentine on the other side of the table, she found she could look at him with almost complete indifference.
After dinner, Jasper and Lady Bethany went out for a stroll in the garden before retiring. As she rosefrom her chair, Marissa’s grandmother raised her thin eyebrows and gave her granddaughter a questioning look.
Marissa didn’t need her to say what was on her mind. She was wondering why Marissa had involved herself in this expedition when she usually went out of her way to avoid such tedious adventures. She would want an explanation.
Restless and unsettled, Marissa rose and went to the window, gazing out over the moat and the park beyond. There was a copse of trees, dark against the fading twilight. They looked a little sinister, especially when a cloud of rooks flew up from the boughs and began a noisy protest.
“Jasper and your grandmother seem to be getting along very well,” Valentine said from the room behind her.
“Yes.”
“Is your grandfather alive?”
“No.” She cleared her throat. “He died a long time ago, before I was born. My grandmother has been a widow longer than she was ever a wife.”
“And she never remarried?”
“No, the single life suits her. She comes from a generation when marriage had little to do with love.”
“Does it ever?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“I suppose not. It’s just that…” Marissa found her tongue growing tangled, “well, my friends would rather not marry at all if they cannot find a man they…they admire enough to…to love.”
“And what about you, Miss Rotherhild?”
He wanted her to bare her heart to him? Marissawondered how on earth she had strayed into this topic. But perhaps it was a chance for her to reaffirm the Husband Hunters Club and their aims. She took a breath and turned to face him, her back to the window, her fingers gripping the sill behind her.
“I admire your friends for their idealism,” he spoke first, his gaze on hers steady and unreadable, “but unfortunately the world we inhabit does not value love in the making of a marriage.”
“That may be true of some people, Lord Kent, but not all.”
He raised a cynical eyebrow. “In the world we move in marriages are made through practical considerations—wealth, land, family connections. Love matches are accidental, or else unhappy failures.”
“George says—” She bit her lip.
Valentine raised his other eyebrow. “What words of great wisdom has my dear brother spoken on the matter, Miss Rotherhild? Come, do enlighten me.”
“Only that if you are going to spend most of your life with someone then surely it is better if
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