" Perhaps I’m off the mark,” Westcliff said, “but I suspect it may have something to do with Miss Hathaway.”
Cam sent him a damning glare.
St. Vincent looked alertly from Cam’s stony face to Westcliff’s. “You didn’t tell me there was a woman.”
Cam stood so quickly the chair nearly toppled backward. “She has nothing to do with it.”
“Who is she?” St. Vincent always hated being left out of gossip.
“One of Lord Ramsay’s sisters,” came Westcliff’s reply. “They reside at the estate next door.”
“Well, well,” St. Vincent said. “She must be quite something to provoke such a reaction in you, Rohan. Tell me about her. Is she fair? Dark? Well formed?”
To remain silent, or to deny the attraction, would have been to admit the full extent of his weakness. Cam lowered back into his chair and strove for an offhand tone. “Dark-haired. Pretty. And she has … quirks.”
“Quirks.” St. Vincent’s eyes glinted with enjoyment. “How charming. Go on.”
“She’s read obscure medieval philosophy. She’s afraid of bees. Her foot taps when she’s nervous.” And other, more personal things he couldn’t reveal … like the beautiful paleness of her throat and chest, the weight of her hair in his hands, the way strength and vulnerability were pleated inside her like two pieces of fabric folded together. Not to mention a body that had been designed for mortal sin. "

― Lisa Kleypas , Mine Till Midnight (The Hathaways, #1)