Mine Till Midnight (The Hathaways, #1)

by Lisa Kleypas

“I’m not a martyr, I’m merely being responsible. And you’re ungrateful!” “Do you want gratitude or a husband? Personally, I’d take the husband.”

“Westcliff won’t say a word to anyone, except…” “Except?” “Lady Westcliff. He might tell her.” Amelia considered that, thinking perhaps it wasn’t so terrible. Lady Westcliff didn’t seem like the kind of person who would condemn her for this. “Of course,” Rohan continued, “if Lady Westcliff knows, there’s a high probability she’ll tell Lady St. Vincent, who’s due to arrive with Lord St. Vincent by the end of the week. And since Lady St. Vincent tells her husband everything, he’ll know about it too. Other than that, no one will find out. Unless…” Her head jerked upward like a string puppet’s. “Unless what?” “Unless Lord St. Vincent mentions it to Mr. Hunt, who would undoubtedly tell his wife Mrs. Hunt, and then … basically everyone would find out.” “Oh no. I can’t bear it.”

Amelia nodded blindly and wrapped her arms around herself. She wasn’t aware of her foot’s nervous tapping until Cam came to her and slid one of his feet beneath her skirts to still her drumming toes. “Hummingbird,” he whispered.

Everyone but Leo gathered around the hearth in one of the downstairs rooms, lounging while Win read aloud from a Dickens novel. Merripen occupied a distant corner of the room, near the family but not quite part of it, listening intently. No doubt Win could have read names from an insurance register, and he would have found it enthralling.

She studied him. “I find it difficult to imagine you as a husband. You seem too solitary.” “Not at all. I’ll take my wife everywhere with me.”

St. Vincent followed his lead with a resigned shrug and a facile smile. “I suppose now I’m obliged to wish you happiness in your new life. Although happiness in the absence of indoor plumbing is a debatable concept.”

“You’re referring to Miss Winnifred.” “Yes.” “She was in Merripen’s room. Apparently, he shared your concern over your sister’s health. Both of them were arguing quite strenuously over which one of them I should see first.”

“Rest, Leo. Everything will be better in the morning.” “You always say that,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “Maybe someday it’ll be true.”

She deserved passionate, heart-scalding, overwhelming, consuming love. She deserved … Oh, hell. He was thinking too much. He forced himself to face the truth. Amelia was his, whether he stayed or left, whether they walked the same path or not. They could live on opposite sides of the world, and she would still be his.

To be wanted, needed, desired above all else … that would never happen to her.

“You’ve done something to stir everyone up. And it’s fairly obvious that whatever you did, Mr. Rohan was involved.” Poppy, who was listening avidly, couldn’t resist adding, “Intimately involved.”

Poppy frowned. “I’ve been waiting my entire life for Amelia to stray from the straight and narrow. Now that it’s happened, I’m going to enjoy it.” “I’d enjoy it too,” Beatrix said plaintively, “if I only knew what we’re talking about.”

“I heard them standing outside my door. You dishonored one of my family.” “Yes, I know,” Cam said quietly. “You’re not good enough for her.” “I know that too.”

What about Win? She’ll need medical care—” “Don’t talk about her.” Merripen made his face expressionless, but not before Cam had seen a flash of extraordinary emotion, something ferocious and dark and tormented. Apparently, Cam thought wryly, not all of the Hathaways were like sisters to him.

“If you hurt her in any way,” Merripen said, “I’m going to kill you.” “I won’t.” “I may kill you anyway.”

After the scarlet fever, when Win couldn’t get out of bed for the longest time, and she was too weak to hold a book, she would just lie there and watch a birds’ nest on one of the tree limbs. She saw the baby swallows hatch and learn to fly. One day, she complained that the window was so dirty, she could barely see through it, and it made the sky look grayish. So from then on, Merripen always kept the glass spotless. Sometimes he climbed a ladder to wash the outside, and you know how afraid of heights he is. You never saw him do that?”

“Merripen said the sky should always be blue for her,” Beatrix said.

“And that was when I knew he … Are you crying, Poppy?” Poppy used a napkin to dab at the corners of her eyes. “No. I just inh-haled some pepper.” “So did I,” Amelia said, blowing her nose.

She tried to ease away, but he had reached up to press her cool hand harder against his forehead. He wouldn’t let go.

“Stay out of my dreams,” Merripen whispered in the humid stillness. “Can’t sleep when you’re here.”

Merripen was on his side, the formerly strong lines of his body collapsed and sprawling. And there was the slim, neat shape of Win sleeping beside him, fully clothed, her feet tucked beneath the skirts of her house dress. Though it seemed laughable that such a delicate creature could protect someone so much larger, Win’s body was curved as if to shelter him. Amelia stared at them in wonder, understanding more from the tableau than any words could have conveyed. Their position conveyed longing and restraint, even in sleep.

“This may surprise you,” Cam said, “but there’s a long list of things I’d prefer to look at other than your rotting carcass. For your family’s sake, however, I’m willing. Turn over.”

Merripen eased his front to the mattress and said something in Romany that sounded extremely foul. “You too,” Cam said equably.

“I’ll lie to him, if necessary,” Win said, shocking the other three into speechlessness. “He trusts me. He’ll believe whatever I say.” To their knowledge, Win had never told a lie in her life, not even as a child. “Do you really think you could?” Beatrix asked, rather awed by the notion. “To save his life, yes.”

“Sing to me,” Merripen whispered as the blinding darkness rolled over him. Win continued to stroke his head as she crooned a lullaby. His fingers touched her throat, seeking the precious vibration of her voice, and the last sparks faded as he lost himself in her, his fate, at last.

The women he had slept with in the past had never worn this kind of prim white nightgown, which struck Cam as the most erotic garment he had ever seen.

“Never be afraid to hope. It’s the only way to begin.”

They’re both gentlemen, and I’m—” “Spoken for,” Cam said curtly. “By me.” Amelia looked up into his eyes, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I know,” she said softly. She could almost feel the pleasure radiating from him at the small concession. “Tonight,” he murmured, and she felt the word down to the marrow of her bones.

“He hasn’t yet recovered from his fiancée’s death. He loved her very dearly.” “He must have,” Dashiell said gravely, “to have been so altered by her loss.”

“Perhaps,” she said tentatively, “you should wait here while I—” “Not a chance in hell.” “He may be more responsive if I approach him by myself, just at first—” “He’s not in his right mind. You’re not going to face him without me.” “He’s my brother.” “And you’re my romni.”

I don’t accept soiled goods.” Infuriated, Amelia started for him with her fingers curled into claws. “You aren’t fit to lick his boots!” she cried, struggling as Cam hauled her backward.

GET HIM GIRL