“Thank you, Professor Rotherhild.” Valentine smiled his charming smile. “I have heard a great many good things about you and your work.”
“My wife, Eleanor,” the professor said, as Marissa’s mother came forward with a shy smile.
“Ah, Mrs. Rotherhild, I believe you have an interest in carnivorous plants? I’ve always found them fascinating but I admit to knowing very little about them.”
Her eyes lit up. “Yes, indeed,” she said breathlessly. “You must see my collection and judge for yourself.”
“I look forward to it.”
By the time dinner was announced, Valentine seemed to have won them over completely. Marissa didn’t know whether to be relieved or horrified. Some rebellious part of her had always wanted to choose a husband her parents would dislike for one reason or another. In her youth she’d visualized tears and pleas for her to give him up, rather like the stuff she had read in the penny dreadfuls the maids smuggled into the house for her. Emotionally exhausting, now she thought about it properly. She had to admit it was much more comfortable having a future husband who was liked, and yet the idea of a replica of her parents continued to worry her.
As they walked into the dining room, her arm in his, Valentine looked down at her, a crease between his brows, and asked her if anything was the matter.
“No. That is…” She sighed and shook her head. “I am being unreasonable.”
“About what, minx?”
“They think I have chosen them the perfect son-in-law,” she admitted hurriedly, nodding at the professor and Eleanor.
He looked confused. “But isn’t that a good thing, Marissa? Or would you prefer them to be disappointed?” His brow cleared and he laughed. “Oh, I see. They wanted you to marry someone like themselves and you think you have. What, after you’d sworn never to follow in their footsteps?”
“Valentine—” Hearing it spoken aloud made her feel as if she was being ridiculous making such a fuss.
“Don’t worry,” he said, his warm breath brushing her ear. “I have no intention of spending my days crouching on hillsides while you stand in the rain. In fact, I want you to write me a list of all the things you find unacceptable in a botanically inclined husband and I will study it carefully.”
Marissa laughed shakily. “I couldn’t do that,” she protested.
“Of course you could. I insist. You are my number one priority, Marissa. I want you to be happy.”
Marissa wondered if it was possible for her to love him any more. She told herself she would not make a list, but the idea was tempting. Putting her fears down on paper might help to negate them.
Over their meal, the conversation turned to the proposed wedding arrangements.
“The village church?” her mother repeated uneasily, with a glance to the professor. “Are you sure, Marissa? I think your father has other plans.”
“Nonsense, Marissa, we will arrange for the Royal Botanical Society rooms,” he said loudly, rubbing his hands together at the thought of greeting his guests in such hallowed surroundings.
“I’m afraid we cannot manage that,” Valentine said smoothly. “Marissa and I will be leaving almost immediately after the wedding. We are going to spend our honeymoon on an, eh, expedition.”
He’d chosen the right word. Marissa watched as her parents’ disappointed expressions turned to understanding. To sacrifice everything for the sake of an expedition was completely acceptable in their minds.
“And what are you hoping to find?” The professor listened politely as Valentine outlined some of his plans, but Marissa could tell he was really just waiting for the moment when he could launch into a monologue detailing his own many expeditions.
Poor Valentine, she thought. Although, she narrowed her eyes at him, he didn’t appear to be suffering. Of course he wasn’t; this was his life. And it would be hers, too, when she was his wife.
“He is a fine man.” Her mother had come up to her while she was deep in thought. “Handsome and intelligent and charming—a gentleman. We like him very well already, Marissa.” She paused. “That said, I want you to be sure this is the life you want. I know what it is to feel pressured into making choices you do not wish to make, and I have never wanted that for you.”
Marissa could imagine Lady Bethany’s disappointment when her only child took a path so different from her own and it gave her a little more understanding of her mother. She was also touched Eleanor was willing to forego an alliance with the wealthy and charming Lord Kent for the sake of her daughter’s happiness, when she knew things must have been very different for her.
But despite all that, she wished her mother hadn’t asked.
“Marissa?” Eleanor said anxiously, reading something of her doubt in her face.
“I love him, Mama.” She spoke with absolute certainty on that point at least.
“But is that enough, my dear?”
Marissa almost groaned aloud as her mother spoke the very question that was tormenting her day and night.