Chapter 10

Everything hurt and it felt as though Westcliffe House were hundreds of miles away. Harriet paused for a moment to gather her strength while leaning against a lamp post. Pedestrians passing by added distance, staring at her as though she were a spectacle.

By the time she arrived at her friend’s Mayfair residence, she was so exhausted she feared she’d never get up once she sat. Ignoring the front door entrance, she descended the stairs to the kitchen door. There, she knocked and waited until a maid arrived.

“Yes?” The young woman gave her an apprehensive look.

“I’m here to see the duchess.” When the maid shook her head and began backing away, Harriet told her, “Please let her know Mr. Harry Michaels needs her assistance. She’ll—”

“Sorry, but the duchess isn’t at home.” The door was promptly shut and bolted. Through the glass, Harriet could see the maid eyeing her with unease before dashing away to the kitchen.

Harriet sighed. She should have expected this based on her appearance. Had she been the maid she might have responded with equal concern if a bloodied individual arrived on the doorstep. Nevertheless, she had to find a way into the house – some means by which to gain Ada’s attention.

She returned to the pavement and glanced toward the front door. A familiar figure stood there, his back toward her as he used the knocker.

“Mr. Evans?”

He turned at the sound of her voice. His eyebrows shot toward his hairline as his mouth fell open and his eyes widened.

“Mr. Michaels?” Abandoning the knocker, he ran down the steps and was instantly at her side. “Where have you been and what on earth happened to you?”

Harriet swallowed past the dryness in her throat. “I had an unfortunate run-in with some thugs.”

He grabbed her upper arm. His expression darkened. “Where?”

“A couple of miles back.” She ignored the disapproving look she received from a pair of well-dressed ladies as they strolled by. “They’ll be long gone by now, I should think.”

“Too bad,” Mr. Evans said, his voice low and rough. “I’d have enjoyed giving them what they deserved for treating you thus.”

“It’s fine. That is, I’ve more important matters to think of, which is why I came here.” She stared at him while acknowledging his sharp appearance. “Are you acquainted with the duke and duchess or are you running an errand on Mr. Hudson’s behalf?”

“I, um…” He scratched the back of his neck and prepared to say something more when the front door to Westcliffe House opened.

A man, all dressed in black save for his white cravat, appeared. He stared at Mr. Evans, then at Harriet, then at Mr. Evans once more. “Your—”

“I’d like to see the duke, if he’s available,” Mr. Evans interrupted.

“Of course,” said the butler. “Do come in.”

“Do you wish to accompany me?” Mr. Evans asked Harriet.

“Yes. I need to speak with the duchess.”

Mr. Evans held Harriet’s gaze for a long awkward moment before he eventually gestured for her to precede him inside.

“My friend will be joining me,” he informed the butler when the man appeared on the verge of protesting.

“Very good, Your—”

“Thank you,” Mr. Evans quipped, cutting the butler off once more.

Harriet frowned. Something about Mr. Evans’s behavior was most unusual, though she could not for the life of her put her finger on what it might be. She entered the beautiful foyer where intricate crown molding graced the ceilings and white marble floors gleamed as though newly polished. Plush red runners softened their footfalls as they walked to the parlor.

“Would the young sir like a bowl of water in which to wash his hands?” The butler inquired. “Perhaps a towel for his face?”

“Thank you. That would be much appreciated,” Harriet told him.

“Excellent. I’ll have a maid bring you the items while I inform the duke and duchess of your arrival.”

The butler vanished and Harriet breathed a sigh of relief. The tension building inside her since having her money stolen dissipated enough for her to relax. If only a little.

“You can sit if you like,” Mr. Evans informed her while studying her with too much interest for her liking.

She turned her gaze away from his, choosing instead to go and admire the street view. “My clothes are filthy. It would be ill-bred.”

“I was worried about you, you know.”

The comment caused her heart to beat a little bit faster. “Really?”

“Of course. Everyone was. Mr. Hudson included.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Oh.”

“He said it was very unlike you to stay away from work without sending word of your absence.” A pause followed and when Harriet said nothing further he asked, “So will you tell me what happened?”

“My sister’s sick. I need to fetch a doctor for her.”

“And this brought you here?”

“It was the only place I could think to go,” Harriet told him wearily.

He said nothing to this and a silence ensued for a while before he suddenly asked, “How do you know the duchess?”

“It’s…er…”

Thankfully the maid arrived in that instant, enabling Harriet to avoid the question. The young woman she’d met before at the kitchen entrance nearly dropped her tray. “You’re here?”

“Yes.” Harriet sent her a smile. “I’m sorry if my appearance put you on edge before. Thank you for bringing these things so I can clean up a little.”

“You’re welcome.” She set the tray on the table closest to where Harriet stood and bobbed a quick curtsey before retreating with hurried steps.

Harriet dipped her hands in the bowl of water and watched it turn a grimy shade of pink.

“Well?” Mr. Evans pressed. “I’m genuinely curious to know.”

“Know what?” Harriet asked as she dipped the corner of the towel she’d been brought into the washbowl so she could dab at her face. She hissed in response to the sharp sting.

“How are you, a compositor, well enough acquainted with a duchess to call upon her at her home?”

“I knew her before she married,” Harriet said, doing her best to appease his curiosity with just enough information for her presence in Westcliffe House to make sense. “Her uncle owns a bookshop and often orders from Hudson Co. I met Her Grace during some of my deliveries. The two of us became friends.”

“Really?” There was an edge to Mr. Evans’s voice now that made Harriet slightly more uncomfortable. “And that’s all there is to it?”

“Of course. What else would there be?”

“I don’t know. You’re a handsome young man, roughly her age. It wouldn’t be strange if you’d taken a fancy to her. I simply want to make sure—”

“I promise you I have not,” Harriet said with a laugh.

“All I’m saying is that the duke is my friend. I’d hate to think you might pose a threat to his marriage by showing up here.”

“No. I…” Harriet dropped the towel she’d been using and frowned as she met Mr. Evans’s gaze once more. “Tell me, how does an assistant editor get to be friends with a duke? One wouldn’t imagine you run in the same circles.”

“It’s complicated.” His shuttered expression informed her that she had touched on a subject he’d like to avoid, which piqued her curiosity immensely. There was definitely a story here.

“Complicated oftentimes equals interesting,” she said, enjoying the wariness with which he eyed her. It was rather satisfying, having him sit in the interrogation chair for a change and watching him squirm. “Of course, there’s a chance you’re not really friends and that Mr. Hudson sent you here instead. It’s working hours, after all. So maybe the duke has written a book that he plans to publish. Anonymously, of course.”

“It’s not really something I want to discuss at the moment.” Mr. Evans glanced at the door and looked visibly relieved when it opened and Ada arrived.

“Your Grace,” said Mr. Evans. “I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion but there’s a matter I’d like to discuss with your husband. Also, this young man – a colleague of mine – wishes to speak with you.”

The brief display of shock on Ada’s face could not be denied, though she quickly hid it beneath the concern she showed Harriet. “Dear me. What’s happened?”

“Lucy’s sick,” Harriet explained. “She’s casting up her accounts and it feels like she has a fever. I went to fetch the doctor, but got robbed on the way. The only solution that came to mind was you. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t desperate, but—”

“Why didn’t you just return home and fetch some more money?” Mr. Evans asked.

Harriet narrowed her gaze on him. “Because there wasn’t enough left. A decent doctor costs at least two pounds for the trouble. I took that with me, leaving one pound behind as savings.”

“That’s all you have available to you?” Mr. Evans asked, his voice incredulous.

“It’s more than what I’d have managed to save if I worked one of the other jobs available to someone without a high education.” She sniffed as her worry for Lucy, the beating she’d suffered, and the scrutiny Mr. Evans subjected her to collided. Her eyes started to burn so she turned away sharply and gave them a swipe, refusing to let him see her cry.

“You did the right thing,” Ada said. “I’m glad you thought to call upon me for assistance.”

The sound of footsteps announced the duke’s arrival. He greeted Mr. Evans with his given name, which only made Harriet all the more curious about their relationship. Turning, she faced the duke at the same time as he swept his gray gaze in her direction. “Who are you?”

“Mr. Michaels.”

The duke’s eyebrows dipped. “And?”

“He’s a friend,” Ada said, saving Harriet from elaborating further.

The duke stared at Harriet, scrutinizing her until she was forced to shift her position in order to dispel the jittery feeling wreaking havoc on her nerves. “How do you know him?”

“From the bookshop,” Ada told him without batting an eyelash.

He dropped her a sideways glance. “And now he’s here, in our home, looking as though he’s been beaten within an inch of his life. I do wonder why he decided to turn to you in his hour of need.”

“As I said, he’s a friend.”

“If there’s a history between you two,” the duke said, “now would be the time to tell me.”

Ada sighed. She sent Harriet an apologetic look, then grabbed her husband by the arm and steered him toward the other end of the room. Once there, she whispered something in his ear, in response to which his expression changed. He appeared to relax and even began to smile.

“I see.” The duke straightened and returned to where he’d been standing before. He then told Harriet, “You’re most welcome, Mr. Michaels. My wife and I will help you as best we can.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Harriet nearly bobbed a curtsey but caught herself at the last moment. She gave a short bow instead. “I’m indebted to you.”

“Nonsense,” said the duke. “The best friends help one another without expecting anything in return. Ada, would you please give Mr. Michaels the funds he requires? I’m sure he’s eager to get home to his sister.”

“Of course.” Ada turned toward the door. “Please come with me, Mr. Michaels.”

Wincing despite her attempt at hiding her pain, Harriet followed Ada into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind her.

“I doubt I’ll be able to attend the book club meeting tomorrow,” Harriet said. “Will you please apologize to Emily on my behalf?”

“Of course.” Ada gave her a gentle smile. “You mustn’t trouble yourself. Emily will understand and if you need additional help, I’m sure she’ll be happy to do what she can to offer assistance.”

Harriet thanked her and waited while Ada retrieved her reticule.

“Wait here a moment,” Ada said after rummaging through it. “I need to fetch a few more coins from the study.”

Harriet nodded and gave her attention to the paintings on the wall while Ada hastened away. She’d always loved art. Some of her fondest memories were of watching her mother draw and of the two of them admiring the paintings in her childhood home together.

She glanced over her shoulder when she sensed someone approaching, thinking it might be Ada. Instead it was the butler. He entered the parlor. When he returned to the hallway a couple of seconds later, he moved as though he intended to go and complete a task. Instead, he seemed to catch himself and slowly gave her his full attention.

“I understand you were turned away at the kitchen door when you first arrived. A slight, for which I’d like to express my sincerest apologies.”

“Thank you, but it’s quite all right. I understand why the maid who met me responded the way she did.” Harriet added a self-deprecating laugh. “I do not look my best at the moment.”

The butler merely dipped his head in acknowledgement of the remark. “Thankfully His Grace was able to clarify matters.”

“Yes,” Harriet agreed, although she rather felt it was his wife who’d done so.

“Had he not arrived at the same time as you, I fear I too would have sent you away.” He gave a curt bow. “Good day, Mr. Michaels. I pray the remainder of it will be better for you.”

Lips parted in shock, Harriet stared after his retreating form. He’d referred to Mr. Evans as ‘His Grace’. Why would he do that unless… She shook her head, unable to grasp what she already knew to be true. It explained his smart appearance that first time she’d bumped into him on the street, though it didn’t explain his position at Hudson Co. Why on earth would a duke choose to work for a living when he didn’t have to?

“Here we are,” said Ada when she returned. “I’m giving you four pounds to be sure.”

“It’s too much,” Harriet complained.

“Not when you’re in dire straits.” When Harriet still refused to take the money, Ada said, “Give me back whatever’s left if you like, but at least you’ll have it available to you, should the need arise.”

Harriet flung her arms around her friend and hugged her tight. “Thank you. I’ve no idea what I’d have done without you.”

“Called on Emily?” Ada suggested with a wry grin.

“Probably,” Harriet agreed.

“You ought to head straight home from here so you can be with Lucy. I’ll see to it that the doctor shows up.”

“Thank you.” She exited Ada’s home while telling her friend, “I still can’t believe you’re a duchess. Or that there are currently two dukes in your parlor.”

“I know, it’s rather…” Ada sucked in a breath. “I don’t think you’re supposed to know that.”

“Know what? That Mr. Evans is a duke in disguise?” She held Ada’s gaze. “What’s his title?”

Ada shook her head before sending a quick glance over her shoulder. “You should ask him. But before you do, you might want to consider the fact that he’s not the only one pretending to be someone else. How would you feel if he worked out your secret?”

“Point taken,” Harriet said. She thanked Ada once more and made her way back to her lodgings in order to check on Lucy, all the while acutely aware of the fact that Mr. Evans was so much more than the working-class gentleman she was starting to fall for. He was a duke, which placed him on an entirely different level, so far removed from her own he might as well be on the moon.