Never Fall for Your Fiancee

“Never be fooled by that, young lady. The pleasant chat is merely the preamble. Think of Olivia much like a spider. She’ll build an innocuous, almost invisible web, lull you into a false sense of security, and before you know it, she’s lured you into her trap and then she’ll eat you alive.”

“Are you trying to put her off me, Jeremiah?” Although, by her amused expression, Hugh’s mother didn’t appear to have taken offense at the gibe.

“I am merely stepping into the breach until Hugh arrives—to shield the poor girl from the worst of your incessant prying.” He sat directly opposite his wife and then handed her his cup, grinning. “I cannot help but notice this is empty, my darling.”

“Something which is just as well, or you would presently be wearing it, dearest.” Blue eyes, so like Hugh’s, twinkled. “You see, Minerva—devoted couples argue all the time.”

Mr. Peabody rolled his eyes as she got up to fix his drink. “I knew she wouldn’t be able to leave it alone despite my repeated warning it was none of her business. She bored me to sleep last night speculating on what she believed was the peculiar atmosphere between you and Hugh.”

“And I was right. They had a tiff. But it is over now.” She plonked his cup in front of him, and he gave it a tentative sniff before taking a sip and sighing.

“There is nothing like the first cup of coffee in the mornings, is there?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m a tea drinker.” A fresh cup of tea appeared in front of Minerva, and she almost sighed aloud, too. She pushed away the cooling cup of treacle and measured just the one scant spoon of sugar into the new cup with more precision than it needed. “Coffee always tastes so bitter to me, Mr. Peabody.”

“Gracious girl, we are about to be family. Please call me Jeremiah.… And coffee is not for the fainthearted. It’s a strong drink. A man’s drink…”

“What he means is, it’s an American drink. My husband is radically opposed to tea. On principle.”

“Of course I am! My grandfather was a revolutionary. He was there at the Boston Tea Party, standing up for fairness and patriotism. He risked his life for it! He’d be spinning in his grave if he knew I allowed that British muck past my lips.”

“Assuming he isn’t already spinning like a windmill in a gale because you conveniently forgot your proud revolutionary heritage when you chose to marry an Englishwoman.” Hugh strode in looking effortlessly handsome, and her lips, alongside other parts of her, started to tingle with abandon. “Somehow, I think he would find the occasional cup of tea more palatable than a blue-blooded daughter of the British establishment. Good morning, everyone.”

His eyes flicked to hers only briefly before he kissed his mother’s cheek, but this morning they looked at her differently. They dropped for just a second to Minerva’s lips before they pulled away, and she knew in that instant he was having recollections about last night’s kiss, just as she was.

“How is everyone today?” As his eyes kept darting to hers, Minerva answered.

“I am well, thank you.” She wasn’t well at all. She was all over the place, completely at sixes and sevens and severely lacking sleep. That was all his fault. “I trust you are well, too?”

“I am. Excellent, in fact…” There was longing in his eyes, and once again they dropped to her lips. “Excellent…” Hugh rapidly turned to Jeremiah with an overbright smile. “And how are you? Recovered from your travels, I hope?”

“Your mother is prying. Your fiancée is politely tolerating it, and I wish I was still in bed.”

“And what is she prying into, pray tell?”

He sat opposite her, forcing Minerva to smell his cologne. The spicy, obviously expensive scent had been mixed with crisp fresh air as if he had been outside. There was something about the combination that made her want to bury her nose in his neck and sniff. “Our little argument yesterday.” Why was it so hard to meet his eyes? Probably because only a few hours ago, she’d allowed her wandering hands free rein on his body and made no secret she had craved his on hers.

“It was hardly little, dear, if it lasted throughout dinner. What exactly did the pair of you argue about? Despite all my prying, Hugh, your fiancée has been annoyingly scant on details.”

“It was nothing, Mother. Just as Minerva said. A tiny lovers’ tiff.” Their eyes finally met properly across the table, and his were amused. “All that matters now is that it’s all sorted.”

“Then if it’s in the past, I see no reason why you cannot share it with us. Once finished with, silly arguments make such wonderful entertainment. What did my horrid son do, Minerva?”

His mother really was like a dog with a bone, one she was unlikely to let go of unless she was thrown a few treats to replace it. “If you must know, we disagreed about the wedding venue.” Hugh’s cup paused midway between the table and his mouth, which made her immediately feel stupid at her hasty fabrication, but she was committed now. Backtracking would be impossible.