Free Mine Till Midnight by Lisa Kleypas Page B

Merripen’s grip on a carpenter’s hammer was deft and sure as he expertly sank a handmade nail into the edge of a board. “No matter how you may try to deny all connection to the Hathaways—and one could hardly blame you for that—the fact is, you’re one of us and you should attend.”
    Merripen methodically pounded a few more nails into the wall. “My presence won’t be necessary.”
    “Well, of course it won’t be necessary. But you might enjoy yourself.”
    “No I wouldn’t,” he replied with grim certainty, and continued his hammering.
    “Why must you be so stubborn? If you’re afraid of being treated badly, you should recall that Lord Westcliff is already acting as host to a Roma, and he seems to have no prejudice—”
    “I don’t like gadjos. ”
    “My entire family— your family—are gadjos. Does that mean you don’t like us?”
    Merripen didn’t reply, only continued to work. Noisily.
    Amelia let out a taut sigh. “Merripen, you’re a dreadful snob. And if the evening turns out to be terrible, it’s your obligation to endure it with us.”
    Merripen reached for another handful of nails. “That was a good try,” he said. “But I’m not going.”
    *   *   *
    The primitive plumbing at Ramsay House, its poor lighting, and the dinginess of the few available looking glasses made it difficult to prepare for the visit to Stony Cross Manor. After laboriously heating water in the kitchen, the Hathaways hauled buckets up and down the stairs for their own baths. Everyone except Win, of course, who was resting in her room to preserve her strength.
    Amelia sat with unusual submissiveness as Poppy styled her hair, pulling it back, making thick braids and pinning them into a heavy chignon that covered the back of her head. “There,” Poppy said with pleasure. “At least you’re fashionable from the ears upward.”
    Like the other Hathaway sisters, Amelia was dressed in a serviceable bombazine gown of twilled blue silk and worsted. Its design was plain with a moderately full skirt, the sleeves long and tightly fitted.
    Poppy’s gown was a similar style, only in red. She was an uncommonly pretty girl, her fine features lit with vivacity and intelligence. If a girl’s social popularity were based on merit rather than fortune, Poppy would have been the toast of London. Instead she was living in the country in a rattletrap house, wearing old clothes, hauling water and coal like a maidservant. And she had never once complained.
    “We’ll have some new dresses made very soon,” Amelia said earnestly, feeling her heart twist with remorse. “Things will improve, Poppy. I promise.”
    “I hope so,” her sister said lightly. “I’ll need a ball gown if I’m to catch a rich benefactor for the family.”
    “You know I only said that in jest. You don’t have to look for a rich suitor. Only one who will be kind to you.”
    Poppy grinned. “Well, we can hope that wealth and kindness are not mutually exclusive … can’t we?”
    Amelia smiled back at her. “Indeed.”
    As the siblings assembled in the entrance hall, Amelia felt even more remorseful as she saw Beatrix turned out in a green dress with ankle-length skirts and a starched white pinafore, an ensemble far more appropriate for a girl of twelve instead of fifteen.
    Making her way to Leo’s side, Amelia muttered to him, “No more gambling, Leo. The money you lost at Jenner’s would have been far better spent on proper clothes for your younger sisters.”
    “There is more than enough money for you to have taken them to the dressmaker,” Leo said coolly. “Don’t make me the villain when it’s your responsibility to clothe them.”
    Amelia gritted her teeth. As much as she adored Leo, no one could make her as angry as he, and so quickly. She longed to administer some heavy clout on the head that might restore his wits. “At the rate you’ve been going through the family coffers, I didn’t think it would be wise of me to go on a