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Quote by Lisa Kleypas

“Poppy was busy with needlework, stitching a pair of men’s slippers with bright wool threads, while Beatrix played solitaire on the floor near the hearth. Noticing the way her youngest sister was riffling through the cards, Amelia laughed. “Beatrix,” she said after Win had finished a chapter, “why in heaven’s name would you cheat at solitaire? You’re playing against yourself.” “Then there’s no one to object when I cheat.” “It’s not whether you win but how you win that’s important,” Amelia said. “I’ve heard that before, and I don’t agree at all. It’s much nicer to win.” Poppy shook her head over her embroidery. “Beatrix, you are positively shameless.” “And a winner,” Beatrix said with satisfaction, laying down the exact card she wanted.”

Quote by Lisa Kleypas

Book:Mine Till Midnight
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Work

Mine Till Midnight

This novel delves into the intricate web of emotions and societal expectations that define the relationship between a wealthy landowner and a captivating woman who arrives in his life unexpectedly. Set against the backdrop of the 19th century, the story examines themes of love, class, and the struggle for personal freedom. The protagonist's journey towards understanding and embracing the woman's enigmatic nature is both heartwarming and thought-provoking. more

Author

Lisa Kleypas
Lisa Kleypas

Lisa Kleypas, born in 1964, is a renowned American romance novel author. Her works are known for their delicate emotional descriptions and captivating storylines, which have won the hearts of numerous readers. more

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“Poppy wiped his sweating face with a dry cloth. “Poor Merripen.” She brought a cup of water to his lips. When he tried to refuse, she slid an arm beneath his head and raised it insistently. “Yes, you must. I should have known you’d be a terrible patient. Drink, dear, or I’ll be forced to sing something.” Amelia stifled a grin as Merripen complied. “Your singing isn’t that terrible, Poppy. Father always said you sang like a bird.” “He meant a parrot,” Merripen said hoarsely, leaning his head on Poppy’s arm. “Just for that,” Poppy informed him, “I’m going to send Beatrix in here to look after you today. She’ll probably put one of her pets in bed with you, and spread her jacks all over the floor. And if you’re very lucky, she’ll bring in her glue pots, and you can help make paper-doll clothes.” Merripen gave Amelia a glance rife with muted suffering, and she laughed. “If that doesn’t inspire you to get well quickly, dear, nothing will.”

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Book:Mine Till Midnight
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“Walking around the ragged exterior of Ramsay House, Amelia talked animatedly with John Dashiell, asking about his past projects, his ambitions, and whether there were difficulties in working with one’s brother. “We knock heads quite often, I’m afraid,” Dashiell replied, squinting against the afternoon sun. A quick grin illuminated his face. “We both hate to compromise. I accuse him of being set in his ways, and he accuses me of arrogance. The pity of it is, we’re both right.”

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Book:Mine Till Midnight
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“I don’t want to go back,” Beatrix moaned. “It’s so dreadfully dull, and I don’t like all that rich food, and I’ve been sitting beside the vicar who only wants to talk about his own religious writings. It’s so redundant to quote oneself, don’t you think?” “It does bear a certain odor of immodesty,” Amelia agreed with a grin, smoothing her sister’s dark hair. “Poor Bea. You don’t have to go back, if you don’t wish it. I’m sure one of the servants can recommend a nice place for you to wait until supper is done. The library, perhaps.” “Oh, thank you.” Beatrix heaved a sigh of relief. “But who will create another distraction if Leo starts being disagreeable again?” “I will,” Cam assured her gravely. “I can be shocking at a moment’s notice.” “I’m not surprised,” Amelia said. “In fact, I’m fairly certain you would enjoy it.”

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Book:Mine Till Midnight
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“I’m tired of sitting. I’m tired of watching everyone else work. I can set my own limits, Amelia. Let me do as I wish.” “No.” Incredulously Amelia watched as Win picked up a broom from the corner. “Win, put that down and stop being silly!” Annoyance whipped through her. “You’re not going to help anyone by expending all your reserves on menial tasks.” “I can do it.” Win gripped the broom handle with both hands as if she sensed Amelia was on the verge of wrenching it away from her. “I won’t overtax myself.” “Put down the broom.” “Leave me alone,” Win cried. “Go dust something!” “Win, if you don’t—” Amelia’s attention was diverted as she saw her sister’s gaze fly to the kitchen threshold. Merripen stood there, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. Although it was early morning, he was already dusty and perspiring, his shirt clinging to the powerful contours of his chest and waist. He wore an expression they knew well—the implacable one that meant you could move a mountain with a teaspoon sooner than change his mind about something. Approaching Win, he extended a broad hand in a wordless demand. They were both motionless. But even in their stubborn opposition, Amelia saw a singular connection, as if they were locked in an eternal stalemate from which neither wanted to break free. Win gave in with a helpless scowl. “I have nothing to do.” It was rare for her to sound so peevish. “I’m sick of sitting and reading and staring out the window. I want to be useful. I want…” Her voice trailed away as she saw Merripen’s stern face. “Fine, then. Take it!” She tossed the broom at him, and he caught it reflexively. “I’ll just find a corner somewhere and quietly go mad. I’ll—” “Come with me,” Merripen interrupted calmly. Setting the broom aside, he left the room. Win exchanged a perplexed glance with Amelia, her vehemence fading. “What is he doing?” “I have no idea.” The sisters followed him down a hallway to the dining room, which was spattered with rectangles of light from the tall multipaned windows that lined one wall. A scarred table ran down the center of the room, every available inch covered with dusty piles of china … towers of cups and saucers, plates of assorted sizes sandwiched together, bowls wrapped in tattered scraps of gray linen. There were at least three different patterns all jumbled together. “It needs to be sorted,” Merripen said, gently nudging Win toward the table. “Many pieces are chipped. They must be separated from the rest.” It was the perfect task for Win, enough to keep her busy but not so strenuous that it would exhaust her. Filled with gratitude, Amelia watched as her sister picked up a teacup and held it upside down. The husk of a tiny dead spider dropped to the floor. “What a mess,” Win said, beaming. “I’ll have to wash it, too, I suppose.” “If you’d like Poppy to help—” Amelia began. “Don’t you dare send for Poppy,” Win said. “This is my project, and I won’t share it.” Sitting at a chair that had been placed beside the table, she began to unwrap pieces of china.”

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Book:Mine Till Midnight
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“Uneasily Amelia drew her hand away and told her brother, “Mr. Rohan saved my life twice today. First I nearly fell out the window, and then I found the bees.” “This house,” Leo muttered, “should be torn down and used for matchsticks.” “You should order a full structural inspection,” Rohan said. “The house has settled badly. Some of the chimneys are leaning, and the entrance hall ceiling is sagging. You’ve got damaged joinery and beams.” “I know what the problems are.” The calm appraisal had annoyed Leo. He’d retained enough of his past architectural training to assess the house’s condition accurately. “It may not be safe for the family to stay here.” “But that’s my concern,” Leo said, adding with a sneer, “isn’t it?” Sensitive to the brittle disquiet in the atmosphere, Amelia made a hasty attempt at diplomacy. “Mr. Rohan, Lord Ramsay is convinced the house poses no immediate danger to the family.” “I wouldn’t be so easily convinced,” Rohan replied. “Not with four sisters in my charge.” “Care to take them off my hands?” Leo asked. “You can have the lot of them.”

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“What happened?” she asked, dropping to the damp ground beside Win. “Has Merripen been burned?” “Yes, on his back.” Win ripped a makeshift bandage from the hem of her own gown. “Beatrix, would you take this, please, and soak it in water?” Without a word, Beatrix scampered to the trough at the handpump. Win stroked Merripen’s thick black hair as he rested his head on his forearms. His breath hissed unevenly through his teeth. “Does it hurt, or is it numb?” Amelia asked. “Hurts like the devil,” he choked out. “That’s a good sign. A burn is much more serious if it’s numb.” He turned his head to give her a speaking glance.”

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Book:Mine Till Midnight
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