Seduce Me at Sunrise (The Hathaways #2)(43)



"Rom," he said by way of explanation, and kissed her passionately.

When Amelia felt well enough to join the other women for tea in the receiving room, the men went downstairs to the Rutledge's gentlemen's room. Although the room was ostensibly for the use of hotel guests, it had become a favorite haunt of the peerage, who wished to share the company of the Rutledge's many notable foreign visitors.

The ceilings were comfortably dark and low, paneled in glowing rosewood, the floors covered in thick Wilton carpeting. The gentlemen's room was cornered with large, deep apses that provided private spaces for reading, drinking, and conversing. The main space was furnished with velvet-upholstered chairs and tables laden with cigar boxes and newspapers. Servants moved unobtrusively through the room, bringing snifters of warmed brandy and glasses of port.

Settling in one of the unoccupied octagonal apses, Kev requested brandy for the table. "Yes, Mr. Merripen," the servant said, hastening to comply.

"What well-trained staff," Dr. Harrow remarked. "I find it commendable that they give impartial service to all the guests."

Kev slanted him a questioning glance. "Why wouldn't they?"

"I imagine that a gentleman of your origins does not receive service at every establishment you frequent."

"I find that most establishments pay more attention to the quality of a man's clothes than the shade of his complexion," Kev replied evenly. "Usually it doesn't matter that I'm a Rom, so long as I can afford their wares."

"Of course." Harrow looked uncomfortable. "My apologies. I'm not usually so tactless, Merripen."

Kev gave him a short nod to indicate that no offense had been taken.

Harrow turned to Cam, seeking to change the subject. "I hope you'll allow me to recommend a colleague to attend Mrs. Rohan during the remainder of your stay in London. I'm acquainted with many excellent physicians here."

"I would appreciate that," Cam said, accepting a brandy from a servant. "Although I suspect we won't remain in London much longer."

"Miss Winnifred seems to have a great fondness for children," Harrow mused. "In light of her condition, it's fortunate that she will have nieces and nephews to dote on."

The other three men looked at him sharply. Cam had paused in the act of lifting the brandy to his lips. "Condition?" he asked.

"Her inability to have children of her own," Harrow clarified.

"What the devil do you mean, Harrow?" Leo asked. "Haven't we all been trumpeting about my sister's miraculous recovery, due to your stellar efforts?"

"She has indeed recovered, my lord." Harrow frowned thoughtfully as he stared into his brandy snifter. "But she will always be somewhat fragile. In my opinion, she should never try to conceive. In all likelihood the process would result in her death."

A heavy silence followed this pronouncement. Even Leo, who usually affected an air of insouciance, couldn't manage to conceal his reaction. "Have you made my sister aware of this?" he asked. "Because she has given me the impression that she fully expects to marry and have her own family someday."

"I have discussed it with her, of course," Harrow replied. "I have told her that if she marries, her husband would have to agree that it would be a childless union." He paused. "However, Miss Hathaway is not yet ready to accept the idea. In time, I hope to persuade her to adjust her expectations." He smiled slightly. "Motherhood, after all, is not necessary for every woman's happiness, much as society glorifies the notion."

Cam stared at him intently. "My sister-in-law will find it a disappointment, to say the least."

"Yes. But Miss Hathaway will live longer and enjoy a higher quality of life as a childless woman. And she will learn to accept her altered circumstances. That is her strength." He swallowed some brandy before continuing quietly, "Miss Hathaway was probably never destined for childbearing, even before the scarlet fever. Such a narrow frame. Elegant, but hardly ideal for breeding purposes."

Kev tossed back his brandy, letting the amber fire wash down his throat. He pushed back from the table and stood, unable to bear another moment of the bastard's proximity. The mention of Win's "narrow frame" had been the last straw. Excusing himself with a rough mutter, he walked out of the hotel and into the night. His senses drew in the cool air, the foul, sharp city smells, the stirrings and rattlings and cries of the London night coming to life. Christ, he wanted to be away from this place.

He wanted to take Win to the country with him, to some place that was fresh and wholesome. Away from the gleaming Dr. Harrow, whose clean, fastidious perfection filled Kev with dread. Every instinct warned that Win wasn't safe from Harrow.

But she wasn't safe from him, either.

His own mother had died giving birth. The thought of killing Win with his own body, his spawn swelling inside her until-

His entire being shied at the thought. His deepest terror was harming her. Losing her.

Kev wanted to talk to her, to listen to her, help her somehow to come to terms with the limitations she'd been given. But he'd put a barrier between them, and he didn't dare cross it. Because if Harrow 's flaw was a lack of empathy, Kev's was just the opposite. Too much feeling, too much need.

Enough to kill her.

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