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Quote by Lisa Kleypas

“A brawl was in progress near the threshold of the tavern, a writhing mixture of arms, legs, flying hats, and bottles and canes. Anytime there was a fight, the greatest likelihood was that her brother had started it. “Merripen,” she said anxiously, “you know how Leo is when he’s foxed. He’s probably in the middle of the fray. If you would be so kind—” Before she had even finished, Merripen made to leave the carriage. “Wait,” Rohan said. “You’d better let me handle it.” Merripen gave him a cold glance. “You doubt my ability to fight?” “This is a London rookery. I’m used to the kind of tricks they employ. If you—” Rohan broke off as Merripen ignored him and left the carriage with a surly grunt. “So be it,” Rohan said, exiting the carriage and standing beside it to watch.”

Quote by Lisa Kleypas

Book:Mine Till Midnight
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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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“How remarkable,” Amelia said casually. “There’s still something left of you.” Plucking a handkerchief from her sleeve, she strode forward and tenderly wiped sweat and a smear of blood from his cheeks. Noticing his unfocused gaze, she said, “I’m the one in the middle, dear.” “Ah. There you are.” Leo’s head bobbed up and down like a string puppet’s. He glanced at Merripen, who was providing far more support than Leo’s own legs were. “My sister,” he said. “Terrifying girl.” “Before Merripen puts you in the carriage,” Amelia said, “are you going to cast up your accounts, Leo?” “Certainly not,” came the unhesitating reply. “Hathaways always hold their liquor.” Amelia stroked aside the dirty brown locks that dangled like strands of yarn over his eyes. “It would be nice if you would try to hold a bit less of it in the future, dear.” “Ah, but sis…” As Leo looked down at her, she saw a flash of his old self, a spark in the vacant eyes, and then it was gone. “I have such a powerful thirst.” Amelia felt the smart of tears at the corners of her eyes, tasted salt at the back of her throat. Swallowing it back, she said in a steady voice, “For the next few days, Leo, your thirst will be slaked exclusively by water or tea. Into the carriage with him, Merripen.” Leo twisted to glance at the man who held him steady. “For God’s sake, you’re not going to put me in her custody, are you?” “Would you rather dry out in the care of a Bow Street gaolkeeper?” Merripen asked politely. “He would be a damn sight more merciful.” Grumbling, Leo lurched toward the carriage with Merripen’s assistance.”

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“We’re still poor,” Amelia had told her brother after poring over the solicitor’s letter describing the estate and its affairs. “The estate is small, the servants and most of the tenants have left, the house is shabby, and the title is apparently cursed. Which makes the inheritance a white elephant, to say the least. However, we have a distant cousin who may arguably be in line before you—we can try to throw it all off on him. There is a possibility that our great-great-great-grandfather may not have been legitimate issue, which would allow us to apply for forfeiture of the title on the grounds of—” “I’ll take the title,” Leo had said decisively. “Because you don’t believe in curses any more than I do?” “Because I’m already so damned cursed, another one won’t matter.”

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“I wonder why the Ramsay estate is so unproductive?” Amelia mused as the carriage traveled alongside lush pastures. “The land in Hampshire is so fertile, one almost has to try not to grow something here.” “But our land is cursed, isn’t it?” Poppy asked with mild concern. “No,” Amelia replied, “not the estate itself. Just the titleholder. Which would be Leo.” “Oh.” Poppy relaxed. “That’s fine, then.”

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“I wonder how Merripen is faring,” Win said, her blue eyes soft with concern. Merripen, the cook-maid, and the footman had gone to the house two days earlier to prepare for the Hathaways’ arrival. “No doubt he’s been working ceaselessly day and night,” Amelia replied, “taking inventory, rearranging everything in sight, and issuing commands to people who don’t dare disobey him. I’m sure he’s quite happy.”

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“Merripen emerged from a hallway leading away from the entrance room. He was in his shirtsleeves with no collar or cravat, the neck of the garment hanging open to reveal tanned skin gleaming with perspiration. With his black hair falling over his forehead, and his dark eyes smiling at the sight of them, Merripen cut a dashing figure. “You’re three hours behind schedule,” he said. Laughing, Amelia pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and gave it to him. “In a family of four sisters, there is no schedule.”

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“Turning at the sound of voices, Amelia saw Merripen carrying her sister outside. Win was dressed in a nightgown and robe and swathed in a shawl, her slim arms looped around Merripen’s neck. With her white garments and blond hair and fair skin, Win was nearly colorless except for the flags of soft pink across her cheekbones and the vivid blue of her eyes. “… that was the most terrible medicine,” she was saying cheerfully. “It worked,” Merripen pointed out, bending to settle her carefully on the chaise. “That doesn’t mean I forgive you for bullying me into taking it.” “It was for your own good.” “You’re a bully,” Win repeated, smiling into his dark face. “Yes, I know,” Merripen murmured, tucking the lap blankets around her with extreme care. Delighted by the improvement in her sister’s condition, Amelia smiled. “He really is dreadful. But if he manages to persuade more villagers to help clean the house, you will have to forgive him, Win.” Win’s blue eyes twinkled. She spoke to Amelia, while her gaze remained on Merripen. “I have every faith in his powers of persuasion.”

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“Snuggling comfortably in her corner, Beatrix gave her older sister a perplexed glance. “Win? You have the oddest look on your face. Is something the matter?” Win had frozen in the act of lifting a teacup to her lips, her blue eyes round with alarm. Following her sister’s gaze, Amelia saw a small reptilian creature slithering up Beatrix’s shoulder. A sharp cry escaped her lips, and she moved forward with her hands raised. Beatrix glanced at her shoulder. “Oh, drat. You’re supposed to stay in my pocket.” She plucked the wriggling object from her shoulder and stroked him gently. “A spotted sand lizard,” she said. “Isn’t he adorable? I found him in my room last night.” Amelia lowered her hands and stared dumbly at her youngest sister. “You’ve made a pet of him?” Win asked weakly. “Beatrix, dear, don’t you think he would be happier in the forest where he belongs?” Beatrix looked indignant. “With all those predators? Spot wouldn’t last a minute.” Amelia found her voice. “He won’t last a minute with me, either. Get rid of him, Bea, or I’m going to flatten him with the nearest heavy object I can find.” “You would murder my pet?” “One doesn’t murder lizards, Bea. One exterminates them.” Exasperated, Amelia turned to Merripen. “Find some cleaning women in the village, Merripen. God knows how many other unwanted creatures are lurking in the house. Not counting Leo.” Merripen disappeared at once. “Spot is the perfect pet,” Beatrix argued. “He doesn’t bite, and he’s already house-trained.” “I draw the line at pets with scales.” Beatrix stared at her mutinously. “The sand lizard is a native species of Hampshire—which means Spot has more right to be here than we do.” “Nevertheless, we will not be cohabiting.”

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“Filled with determination, she pounded on Leo’s door. “Wake up, slugabed!” A string of foul words filtered through the heavy oak panels. Grinning, Amelia went into Poppy’s room. She pulled the curtains open, releasing clouds of dust that caused her to sneeze. “Poppy, it’s … achoo! … time to get out of bed.” The covers had been drawn completely over Poppy’s head. “Not yet,” came her muffled protest. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, Amelia eased the covers away from her nineteen-year-old sister. Poppy was groggy and sleep-flushed, her cheek imprinted with a line left by a fold of the bedclothes. Her brown hair, a warmer, ruddier tint than Amelia’s, was a wild mass of tangles. “I hate morning,” Poppy mumbled. “And I’m sure I don’t like being awakened by someone who looks so bloody pleased about it.” “I’m sorry.” Continuing to smile, Amelia stroked her sister’s hair away from her face repeatedly.”

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“Rohan returned, his breath quickened from exertion. A mist of sweat had accumulated on his skin until it gleamed like bronze. “Right on course,” he said to Westcliff and Swansea. “The stabilizing fins worked. It landed at a distance of approximately two thousand yards.” “Excellent!” Swansea exclaimed. “But where is the rocket?” Rohan’s white teeth flashed in a grin. “Buried in a deep, smoking hole. I’ll go back to dig it up later.” “Yes, we’ll want to see the condition of the casing and the inner core.” Swansea was red-faced with satisfaction. He used a handkerchief to blot his steaming, wrinkled countenance. “It’s been an exciting morning, eh?” “Perhaps it’s time to return to the manor, Captain,” Westcliff suggested. “Yes, quite.” Swansea bowed to Amelia. “A pleasure, Miss Hathaway. And may I say, you took it rather well, being the target of a surprise attack.” “The next time I visit, Captain,” she said, “I’ll remember to bring my white flag.”

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