“You love me?” Heat flashed through her, followed by cold, and then pure panic. “What? No. What?” She paused, her breath coming harsh. “What?”

Her jaw dropped. “I did not!” She narrowed her eyes on his. “Though you certainly would have deserved it, you bastard.” Devil laughed, low enough that only Whit could hear him. “Now I know why you like her so much. She’ll run you ragged.”

She turned back. “I’m sorry I tossed you from a carriage.” His response was instantaneous. “I’m not.”

“It is he who should be afraid of me,” she vowed, fury coming hot and powerful. “I should like to have a good go at him with my bare hands.” His eyes went wide, and he huffed a little, surprised laugh. “You are very angry.”

“You will tell Father you don’t want the business.” Augie’s eyes went wide as Nora let out a low whistle that Hattie ignored, frustration and determination and triumph coursing through her all at once. “You’ll tell him to give it to me.” It seemed today was the beginning of the Year of Hattie, after all.

And there it was. Her answer. “That’s what this is; you keep me safe from him.” He met her eyes. “Until my dying breath.”

“I need help.” “Of course he does.” The snide comment came from the stove. “Shut up, Nora,” Augie said.

“Fine. Why have you kept them?” “Because I’ve barely owned them a week!” “Nah. Why have you kept them, bruv?” Whit stopped. For her. Christ. Whit rubbed a hand over his face. He’d kept them for her. Because she’d told him she wanted a shipping business. And he’d wanted to give her what she wanted. Because hope was a fickle bitch. “There it is.”

“I’ll never not be hers.”