" Half inebriated, he vaulted up the stairs to find them lolling in chairs in the hall outside Maria’s door. Gabe clasped a bunch of violets in his hand while Jarret held a rolled-up piece of parchment in his.
“What are you two louts doing here in the middle of the night?” he growled.
“It’s nearly dawn,” Gabe said coolly. “Hardly the middle of the night. Not that you would have noticed, in your drunken state.”
Scowling, Oliver took a step toward them. “It’s still earlier than you, at least, every rise.”
Gabe glanced at Jarret. “Clearly, the old boy doesn’t remember what today is.”
“I believe you’re right,” Jarret returned, a hint of condemnation in his tone.
Oliver glared at them both as he sifted through his soggy brain for what they menat. When it came to him, he groaned. St. Valentine’s Day. That sobered him right up. “That doesn’t explain why you’re lurking outside Maria’s door.”
Jarret cast him a scathing glance as he got to his feet. “Why do you care? You ran off to town to find your entertainment. Seems to me that you’re relinquishing the field.”
“So you two intend to step in?” he snapped.
“Why not?” Gabe rose to glower at him. “Since your plan to thwart Gran isn’t working, and it’s looking as if we’ll have to marry someone, we might as well have a go at Miss Butterfield. She’s an heiress and a very nice girl, too, in case you hadn’t noticed If you’re stupid enough to throw her over for a bunch of whores and opera dancers, we’re more than happy to take your place. We at least appreciate her finer qualities.”
The very idea of his brothers appreciating anything of Maria’s made his blood boil. “In the first place, I didn’t throw her over for anyone. In the second, I am damned well not relinquishing the field. And I’m certainly not giving it over to a couple of fortune hunters like you.”
The sound of footsteps coming down the hall from the servants’ stairs made them whirl in that direction. Betty walked slowly toward them, one hand shading her eyes.
That’s when it hit him. His brothers were here because of that silly superstition about a maiden’s heart being joined to that of whoever was the first man she spotted on St. Valentine’s Day.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” Betty murmured as she approached, carefully avoiding looking at any of them.
A devilish grin lit Gabe’s face. “Betty, catch!” he cried and tossed a violet at her.
She didn’t even move a finger to stop it from bouncing off her and falling to the floor. “If your lordships will excuse me,” she said in a decidedly snippy tone, “my mistress rang the bell for me.” With a sniff that conveyed her contempt for them, she slipped inside Maria’s rom and shut the door firmly behind her.

“That was shameful,” Jarret told Gabe. “You know bloody well that Betty and John are sweethearts.”
“It’s not my fault that John didn’t show up this morning so she could see him first,” Gabe said with a shrug. "

― Sabrina Jeffries , The Truth About Lord Stoneville (Hellions of Halstead Hall, #1)