Chapter 8

It was starting to dawn on Brody that getting paid to read might be the best job in the world. He was able to sit back, relax, and dive into a story that hadn’t yet been released to the world. It was much like being an explorer, embarking on some new adventure without knowing what to expect.

For the most part, the submissions he worked his way through weren’t very enticing. Finding those he imagined the masses would find appealing took time. But this did give him hope for the book he and his friends had written, for it was surely better than most of what was in his slush pile.

A week had now passed since he’d started at Hudson Co., and he decided the time had come for him to address his reason for being there in the first place. So when he arrived at work, he took a moment to greet everyone and prepare a pot of tea for himself. Once this was done, he settled into his chair and, using his desk as a shield, retrieved the manuscript from his satchel.

He slipped it onto the top of the pile and started to read the familiar words. A grin pulled at his lips as Anthony’s writing made him laugh. What a great visual this was, of the hero cursing his mother’s meddlesome ways. The internal thoughts were hilarious, both acerbic and sarcastic.

Leaning back, he stretched out his legs, then crossed them at the ankles and turned the page. There was no doubt in his mind this writing was better than most of what he’d enjoyed this past week. Only two other manuscripts had shown promise, with neither being romantic in nature. He’d recommended both – a travel journal and an adventure novel - to Mr. Hudson.

One hour later, he’d finished perusing the first three chapters of A Seductive Scandal. Time to implement the next part of his plan. He straightened and set the manuscript on his desk. “This is really good.”

“What is?” Mr. Hudson asked, his attention on a letter he appeared to be writing.

“This book.” Brody stood, picked up the manuscript, and strode across to Mr. Hudson’s desk. “It’s a romance novel from what I gather, written with a touch of humor.

Mr. Hudson stilled. He set his quill aside and gave Brody his full attention. “Let me see.”

Heart thumping harder than ever, Brody handed him the book he and his friends had pinned their dreams on. He held his breath as Mr. Hudson located the first page and started to read.

“Hmm…” He continued onto page two. “Yes. This does hold promise. With Miss Austen’s death last year, the publishing industry has been clamoring for a new author of her capabilities. I’ll take this home with me tonight and see if the rest is as good as the start. Thank you, Mr. Evans. This could prove a game changing find for us all.”

A game changing find?

Brody bubbled with excitement. It was all he could do not to thank Mr. Hudson profusely. But that would probably look suspicious. So he did his best to maintain a calm demeanor. Adding a nod of acknowledgement, he moved away from Mr. Hudson’s desk.

“Oh, one more thing,” Mr. Hudson said, halting Brody’s retreat. “I’d like to review the first test run of Through the Jungle. Mr. Michaels promised it would be ready today. Can you please fetch it for me?”

“Certainly.” Brody exited the front office space and approached the print room.

He pushed the door open and paused in the doorway. On the previous occasions he’d come here, the room had either been quiet, the workers mostly gone for the day, or he’d been too intent on his purpose to notice the work taking place. He did so now, noting the two large men who worked the press. One was adding ink while another raised and lowered parts with the use of a lever. Paper was swept in and out of the contraption with expert speed and blocks of text imprinted on the fresh sheets.

To the right sat Mr. Michaels, together with another slightly older man who perched on a stool with a manuscript in his hands. It was the same chap who’d come to fetch Mr. Michaels when Brody had tried to invite him out for a drink. The chap read while Mr. Michaels prepared the blocks of text to be printed.

Brody stared. The grace of the young man’s movements, the swiftness with which he completed the task and had the block sent to the press, was a marvel to behold.

Unwilling to interrupt, he kept quiet until a natural break emerged when the man who was reading moved to the next page.

Brody cleared his throat. “Forgive the intrusion, but Mr. Hudson asked me to fetch the first copy of Through the Jungle. He believes it ought to be ready?”

Mr. Michaels’s gaze met his and held for a couple of seconds, as though it took time for his brain to acknowledge Brody’s presence. He suddenly blinked. “Right. Of course. I’ll, um…”

“If you point me in the right direction I can fetch it,” Brody said.

“I’m actually feeling like it might be time for a break,” the man who’d been reading announced. He stood and stuck out his hand for Brody to shake. “We’ve not been properly introduced yet. I’m Oliver Tomkins, and those two blokes over there are James Dorsey and Matthew Jenkins.”

Brody accepted the handshake. “Pleased to meet you.”

“What say you?” Mr. Tomkins asked Mr. Michaels. “Shall we take ten minutes?”

Mr. Michaels frowned at his colleague. “Five is all we have time for with luncheon approaching within the next hour.”

“Good enough.” The colleague headed toward the exterior door, calling for the other two men who wielded the press to join him. Within a few seconds, only Brody and Mr. Michaels remained.

“It’s right over here,” Mr. Michaels said, his gaze darting away from Brody as he started forward. In his rush, he must have forgotten to watch his step, for he didn’t quite clear the stool on which his colleague had been sitting and promptly tripped.

Instinctively, Brody reached out and grabbed his arm, which forced him to notice two things. First, Mr. Michaels was slimly built beneath his wool jacket and shirt. Second, he lacked the muscle one might expect from a youth his age.

The lad stumbled to a sharp halt. Seeking to steady himself, he latched onto Brody’s shoulder. He immediately snatched his hand away, though not before Brody was able to wonder at the way it felt. The fact that he found himself liking the added contact was rather disturbing.

“Sorry. That was incredibly clumsy of me.”

“No need to apologize,” Brody said while staring into Mr. Michaels’s beautiful eyes. He gritted his teeth. Surely this wasn’t normal, for a man to pay attention to another man’s eyes.

Thankfully Mr. Michaels averted his gaze in the next instant and pushed his way past Brody. “It’s right here.”

“What is?”

“The book.”

“Oh right. Of course.” Idiot. Brody cleared his throat. “I couldn’t help but notice the skill with which you were working before. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Mr. Michaels turned and directed a radiant smile at him. It was enough to knock any mortal off his feet. “Just goes to show that one can do anything with enough determination.”

“You’re referring to your background and the lack of expectation it might have led to?”

“Precisely.”

This was said so quickly Brody wondered if this was indeed what Mr. Michaels had meant. Instead of remarking on it, he decided to add to their conversation by saying, “I must admit I share your belief. While life is certainly easier for the wealthy, there are opportunities for those who aren’t. Provided one is creative enough.”

Mr. Michaels gave him an odd look. “You don’t…”

“What?”

“It’s nothing.” Mr. Michaels held the book toward Brody. “Once Mr. Hudson gives this his stamp of approval, we’ll schedule the number of copies he wants us to make.”

Brody wanted to know what Mr. Michaels had left unsaid, but he sensed the lad would rather he didn’t, so he left the subject alone. Taking the book, he tried to ignore the jolt he experienced when Mr. Michaels’s fingers touched his.

His pulse leapt with the sort of excitement that made him very afraid.

“Thank you,” he managed and took a step back, adding a safe amount of distance. He’d thought to ask Mr. Michaels if he might like to meet for another drink after work, but decided it might be best not to.

The way Mr. Michaels watched him, his lips slightly parted in wonder, was further cause for concern. Spending additional time together would be unwise. Whatever was happening here, it had to end. At once.

Disturbed by his increased responsiveness toward the young man, he backed toward the door, wished him a pleasant rest of the day, and fled to the safety of his desk.

* * *

“Begging your pardon, sir,” Rhys told Brody that evening while he enjoyed an after-dinner drink in his study. “The Marquess of Ramsgate wishes to see you.”

Brody stared at his butler. “The marquess is here?”

“Indeed. Shall I show him in or would you rather I tell him you’re not at home?”

“By all means, show him in.” The butler departed and Brody stood in anticipation of Ramsgate’s arrival. He couldn’t imagine what might have brought the man to his home at such a late hour. They weren’t exactly friends, the marquess being a good twenty years Brody’s senior.

“I hope you can forgive me for interrupting your evening,” Ramsgate said when he entered the room, “but I fear it could not be helped.”

“It’s quite all right,” Brody said. “I’ve completed my dinner and have no further plans besides enjoying a glass of brandy before I retire. Would you care for some?”

Ramsgate gave a curt nod. “Please.”

Brody prepared the drink and handed it over, then gestured toward the armchair adjacent to the one he himself had occupied earlier. “Won’t you sit?”

A brief hesitation suggested Ramsgate’s reluctance to get too comfortable, which in turn put Brody on edge. He forced a smile and settled into his own chair as soon as the other man was seated, and angled himself toward him. “I believe this is the first time you’ve come here since I became duke.”

“Yes.” Ramsgate took a quick sip of his brandy while knitting his brow. Discomfort was etched in every aspect of his expression. “A courtesy, you understand, in deference to your rank within Society.”

This remark did little to quash Brody’s rising concerns. Nevertheless, he did his best to feign calmness, even though it felt like his nerves were so tightly drawn they might snap. “Do enlighten me.”

Ramsgate took yet another sip then set his drink aside on the table between the two chairs. “The matter at hand pertains to your brother.”

Oh dear. What now?

“He attended a dinner at Vauxhall Gardens last night,” Ramsgate continued. “I was there too, with my daughters and… Well, the fact of the matter is, he and my youngest, Fiona, were separated from our small group while watching the waterfall spectacle. I can’t really blame them. There were a great many people present. Trouble is, rather than wait with Fiona to one side until it was over, your brother swept her away between the trees.”

Brody went very still. A sick sensation crawled through him. It took some effort to force the next words out. “Are you saying he made advances upon her?”

Of course that was what he was saying.

“They were seen, you understand, so although it was merely a kiss - and I say merely because I’m aware it could have been worse - I had little choice. I had to respond.”

“Of course. If you’re worried my brother won’t do his duty, you may rest assured that he shall. I’ll see to the special license myself if you wish.”

“You misunderstand,” Ramsgate muttered. He glanced at his glass of brandy but refrained from reaching for it. When his gaze returned to Brody’s, there was a very distinct degree of regret in his eyes. “I’ve always held your family in the highest regard. Your father was a good friend, whose loss still pains me. That said, your brother is not the sort of man I wish to have as a son-in-law.”

Of course not. No one wanted their daughter to marry a man who enjoyed high stakes gambling and lost every time, or the sort who drank to excess and was often seen with some sort of harlot upon his arm.

“But if you’re not looking for him to save your daughter’s reputation through marriage, what then?”

“I’m here to inform you that I have issued a challenge in Fiona’s honor. She has no brothers, so the duty falls upon me. All things considered, I thought it best to let you know, to be sure your brother shows up once the time and location for the duel have been determined.”

Brody stared at the marquess while doing his best not to gape. How could Finn have neglected to mention this to him? Granted, they’d not crossed paths since yesterday afternoon, but he could have left a note. Something to the effect of:

Oh by the way, Brother, I decided to defile Lord Ramsgate’s daughter, so there’s a good chance he’ll put me in the ground the next time we meet.

Brody blinked.

Unsure of how to respond in the moment, he stalled for time by setting his glass to his lips and allowing the brandy to slide down his throat. The warm sensation that followed was welcome, but didn’t do much to ease his concerns.

“Must you resort to such drastic measures?” He knew the words were wrong the moment he spoke them. Still, he had to try and dissuade the man from the course of action he’d chosen.

Ramsgate looked appropriately appalled. “We’re speaking of my daughter’s ruination at the hands of a man whose character leaves a great deal to be desired.”

It was Brody’s turn to take issue. “Finn may have his flaws, I’ll admit, but I won’t permit you to speak ill of him while in my home.”

“Very well.” Ramsgate sat for a moment in silence, then grabbed his glass and downed the remainder of his drink. He stood and proceeded to pace, his expression darkening by the second. “I would have believed myself too old for this, but I cannot allow the matter to slide. Justice must be sought if reputations are to be upheld. Surely you understand this?”

“I do. I simply wish there might be another way.”

“There isn’t. Not one I can think of. Especially not when the first strains of gossip are already making their rounds. I must act swiftly – Losturn must be put in his place.”

“I can speak with him,” Brody tried, “convince him to make a public apology.”

“Are you jesting, Your Grace?” When Brody flattened his lips and shook his head in shame, Ramsgate came to a halt before him and said, “You’ve no idea what this is like since you have no children, but try to imagine how you might feel if you were in my shoes.”

The answer came to Brody before he could blink. He’d kill the bastard.

As if reading his mind, Ramsgate told him stiffly, “You may rest assured, I’ve no desire to take your brother from you, Corwin. First blood will do.”

The words eased Brody’s mind a great deal. “I’ll inform my brother of your visit and what you have said.”

Ramsgate gave a curt nod. “I’ll send a note as soon as I’ve decided on a time and place.”

“Of course.” Sensing an end to the interview, Brody stood. “I’ll be his second.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

Brody summoned his butler as soon as Ramsgate was gone. “Did my brother say where he was going tonight?”

“I’m afraid not.”

No chance of trying to find him and drag him home by his ear. “Please tell him to come and see me as soon as he returns. There’s a matter he and I need to discuss.”

Brody glanced at the clock. It was already nine. Given the fact that he was meant to start work at eight, he’d hoped to be on his way upstairs by now. Annoyed with Finn for causing such senseless trouble, he crossed to the sideboard instead and re-filled his glass.

It was almost one by the time he heard the front door. Having found a book with which to pass the time, Brody set it aside and waited for Finn to appear. He did so soon enough and was wearing the sort of wide grin that suggested he’d had a spectacular evening.

“Didn’t expect to see you up at this hour,” Finn said. He sauntered into the room and collapsed in the chair Ramsgate had used earlier. “But I’m glad you are since I no longer have to wait for tomorrow to tell you I’ve fallen in love.”

Brody gnashed his teeth. “I only stayed up because there’s an urgent matter we need to discuss.”

“Miss Vaughn is the loveliest lady you’ll ever meet.”

“The Marquess of Ramsgate came to call a few hours ago,” Brody said, his voice stiff as he leaned forward in his seat and pierced his brother with a hard glare. “I hear he’s challenged you to a duel, Finn. Because you couldn’t refrain from kissing his daughter in public.”

“Well I—”

“How could you neglect to tell me this?”

Finn scratched his head and looked slightly sheepish. “Um….”

His blasé attitude only infuriated Brody more. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I must confess I wasn’t,” Finn said, scratching his head in a sort of bemused way that only made Brody angrier. “She looked so pretty in the moonlight. I simply couldn’t resist.”

Brody stared at him. “You couldn’t resist?”

“Afraid not.”

“She’s a marquess’s daughter,” Brody shouted, “not some trollop with whom you can have your way without consequence.”

“Sorry, Brody. I realize this may have upset your evening but—”

“Upset my evening?” Brody shot to his feet, bringing his brandy glass with him and downing the contents in one fell swoop. His blood was boiling, heating his head until he felt a violent pain taking root at the base of his skull. “You’ve ruined a young lady’s reputation.”

“I did apologize to her father at the time. Considering his response, I rather thought he’d retracted the challenge and that the entire debacle had been forgotten.”

Brody blinked. How was it possible for one person to be so bloody na?ve? His own brother, no less? He returned his glass to the sideboard and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Although I did try to find another solution, marriage is out of the question. Ramsgate doesn’t believe one kiss is sufficient grounds for you to ruin his daughter’s life further.”

“Meaning?”

“He doesn’t consider you worthy of being her husband. Hence, the duel, since this is his only remaining course of action if he’s to defend her honor and put you in your place.”

This remark finally seemed to strike a chord with Finn. He straightened in his chair and positioned himself with his forearms resting upon his thighs, his attention fixed on the floor. “I’ve never been a very good shot or fencer.”

“Thankfully, it’s only to first blood. However, that doesn’t rule out a stroke of bad luck. You can still be killed, which is why I intend to get you out of the country.”

Finn’s gaze snapped to his. The somber expression he wore now suggested some common sense did exist behind his usual carefree demeanor. “Absolutely not.”

“You can go to America. Start a new life for yourself.”

“I don’t know anyone in America,” Finn complained.

“You’ll make friends in time, but at least you’ll be alive.”

“I’m sorry, Brody.” Finn stood and planted his feet apart while crossing his arms. “Leaving is out of the question. This is my home – always has been. I’ll die here if need be.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

Finn scowled. “I’m not. For once, I’m trying to do the right thing.”

Brody scrubbed a hand over his face. “Why the hell couldn’t you have decided to do so before kissing Lady Fiona?”

Or gambling away my money?

“Doing so would have been wisest, I’ll agree. But what’s done is done and it’s time for me to face the consequences of my actions.”

“On a dueling field.” Brody shook his head. “I trust you’ll choose swords?”

Finn’s answering nod was a small relief. “My marksmanship is abysmal, so that would be the prudent decision.”

“I still intend to find a way out of this mess. For now, let’s agree that your late-night diversions are over and done with.” When Finn appeared on the verge of protesting, Brody informed him, “I cannot afford additional mishaps right now.”

It took a moment for Finn to respond, but he finally nodded. “I understand.”

“Good.” Brody crossed to the door. “There’s a plate of food for you in the dining room in case you’re hungry. I myself am for bed since I’ve got to rise in five hours. I’ll see you tomorrow after work. I expect you to be home then.”

“I will be,” Finn assured him. “Thank you, Brody.”

Brody muttered a quick, “Goodnight,” and left, no less worried about his brother’s fate than he’d been a half hour earlier.