George shook his head in despair. “I had thought better of you, Marissa. Does this mean you have been infected with the disease of rose collecting?”
Marissa laughed but to Valentine it sounded slightly forced. “Not at all, although I do admit to a partiality to their scent.”
“In some parts of the world, I believe, women bathe in rose petals steeped in water,” Valentine said to no one in particular.
Marissa bowed her head but he saw by her wicked smile that she was not expecting to take such a bath alone.
Lady Bethany was still mulling over “the dress” and had taken a small notepad from her reticule and was writing upon it with a pencil. Jasper watched her, bemused, but with a fond glint in his eye. He was not such a selfish creature that he wanted his ladylove’s complete attention, especially when he knew this wedding gave her such pleasure. Who would have thought both he and Kent would fall in love like this?
Abbey Thorne Manor was about to enter a new era and Jasper was glad to be a part of it.
But the question of the Crusader’s Rose niggled at the back of his mind, reminding him of the unfulfilled quest. A pity it would never now be found, but at least they had done their utmost to discover the truth.
And besides, if it hadn’t been for the rose then Valentine would never have met Marissa, and he would never have met Lady Bethany.
“What did George mean? That this was all his doing?” Marissa demanded, curled beside Valentine as they sat in the candlelit darkness of the yellow salon.
He explained how George now insisted their meeting had been part of his plan to find the perfect wife for his brother. “I don’t know whether to believe him or not, but he insists it is the truth.”
Marissa was inclined to be annoyed at first, feeling herself used, but when she saw that actually Valentine was touched that his brother thought so much of him that he’d gone to such lengths, she couldn’t stay cross.
“I will have something to say to him next time we meet,” she said with a thin smile. “The perfect wife indeed!”
“But you are,” Valentine murmured, bending to kiss her softly on the lips. “Perfection in all things.”
“Now you know that isn’t true,” she retorted, flushing. “If you really believe that you will be sadly disappointed.”
He tried to hush her with another kiss. “I will never be disappointed, minx.”
“Valentine, please, I’m serious,” she said with a searching look. “If you think I am perfect then I will become seriously worried.”
He laughed as if she’d made a joke, and drew her closer.
Marissa gave up, resting her head on his chest. She wished she could put into words the confusion and doubt. The truth was, this sense of panic had first assailed her when Valentine began to talk about the wedding. He’d said he wanted a small wedding, as soon as possible, as if he was afraid she might change her mind and bolt. She knew that wasn’t really true—he just wanted to be with her, as she did him, and it seemed as if the formal arrangements were getting in his way. But there was a sense of being rushed, perhaps even forced into the marriage, before she was ready.
What if she was making a mistake?
Marissa was beginning to feel trapped, but when she thought of the alternative she knew she didn’t want to escape. The trouble was, at the moment, she didn’t know what she wanted. Except perhaps to let things be—to enjoy herself and forget about the future.
Everything was happening so fast.
“I will accompany you back t
o London.” Valentine’s voice interrupted her growing desperation, and she was glad.
“Yes.”
“I have to speak to Von Hautt anyway.”
She looked up at him anxiously. “I suppose you do.”
“Not just because of what has happened, Marissa, but because of all the things he knew about me. About us. Someone in my house is a spy and I need to discover who it is. I want to know, when you come to live here with me as my wife, that you will be safe.”
His words soothed her, reminding her of why she loved him and wanted to marry him. “Do you still have no idea who it is, Valentine?”
He shook his head. “No idea. Most of my servants have been here for years, some of them decades. I can’t imagine any one of them turning traitor.”
“Perhaps they don’t think of it like that. Perhaps their loyalty is to Baron Von Hautt for some reason or another.”