Merripen broke off as he glanced over Amelia’s shoulder. Unceremoniously, he brushed by her and reached Win in three strides. Amelia saw Win’s slight form swaying, her lashes lowering as she half-collapsed against Merripen.

“A what?” The delicate greenery fell from her nerveless fingers. “If a man wishes to reawaken his lover’s interest, he feeds her watercress. It’s a stimulant of the—” “Don’t tell me! Don’t!”

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.

Leo surprised her by bending to brush a light kiss on her forehead. “You haven’t met a man worth giving up your independence for. But you will someday.” He grinned before adding, “Despite your encroaching old age.”

“A man who wants trouble can find it anywhere.”

After all, Merripen had helped nurse both Win and Leo through the scarlet fever. Without him, Amelia was certain neither of them would have survived.

He gave a nod, took her in with one of those bright, disarming glances, and stayed to watch her progress as she walked away. With each step Amelia put between them, she should have felt safer, but the sense of disquiet remained. And then, she heard him murmur something, his voice shadowed with amusement, and it sounded as if he had said, “Some

Wiping at the dust and sweat on his face, Merripen glanced at all the Hathaways. His gaze lingered on Win for an extra moment.

“I believe in magic and mystery, and dreams that reveal the future. And I believe some things are written in the stars … or even in the palm of your hand.”