Chapter 13

When Brody arrived back at Hudson Co., he went straight to his employer and handed him the agreement Ada had signed.

“The author accepted the offer,” he said. “I was asked to give you her thanks.”

Mr. Hudson beamed. “That’s excellent news indeed. I can’t wait to get started. Which brings me to the problem regarding Mr. Michaels.

“I managed to locate him,” Brody said. “His sister is sick and required attention. He apologizes for not sending word, but it’s my belief his morning was spent locating a doctor. In any event, he has assured me that he will return to work tomorrow morning.”

“Very good. Thank you, Mr. Evans. That certainly is welcome news since I very much want a man of his skill to be working on this new project.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Brody said. “If you like, I can inform the print room.”

“Yes, yes.” Mr. Hudson, his attention already back on the manuscript he’d been perusing when Brody arrived, waved him off.

Brody strode to the print room where he found the men Mr. Michaels worked with sweeping the floor and tidying the shelves. The tempo had certainly slowed since he’d been here last.

He entered the room and cleared his throat to attract their attention. “I’ve come to inform you that Mr. Michaels will be joining you again tomorrow.”

“Is he all right?” asked Mr. Tomkins, who did the reading for Mr. Michaels.

Brody explained the situation while the three men looked appropriately concerned. He chose not to mention the attack on Mr. Michaels, deciding this was more personal in nature and that the young man could reveal as much or as little as he chose himself.

“Is there anything I can help you with here in the meantime?” Brody asked.

“I don’t suppose you’re able to read while I set some type?” Mr. Tomkins said. “I’m not as quick as Mr. Michaels, but we’ve only got three pages left of the chapter we’re working on, which shouldn’t take long. It would be nice if we could finish before he returns.”

“I’m happy to give it a try,” Brody said, “provided Mr. Hudson has nothing else for me to do. I’ll check with him and let you know.”

When Brody returned five minutes later with Mr. Hudson’s consent, he perched on the stool he’d seen Mr. Tomkins use and accepted the page that was handed to him.

“Read from there, one sentence at a time,” Mr. Tomkins said. “I’ll let you know when to continue.”

Brody did as he asked, allowing the print room to get back to work. It was, in truth, a welcome distraction. During his walk from Mr. Michaels’s lodgings, Brody had thought of little besides the wounded young man he’d left behind. And the fact that he’d almost kissed him.

Had it not been for Mr. Michaels stepping away, he would have done so. He would have kissed him. On the mouth!

There weren’t enough words in the English language to try and explain how such a thing could have happened. How it had come to this when he’d always been drawn to women? He loved their luscious curves and enjoyed the pleasure he found with them in bed. But that mouth…

It tempted him with a frightening degree of purpose. He’d not been strong enough to resist the pull. Which was perfectly mad. He was mad. Or at least he felt like he was since all he could think of was Mr. Michaels and what it might be like to taste those lips.

Ugh!

Enough.

He read the next sentence and savored the brief reprieve from his uneasy musings. Thankfully the rest of the chapter required four hours of work, after which Brody’s admiration for those who worked the print room grew. It wasn’t easy. He himself was downright exhausted. And all he’d done was sit on a stool and read. But his throat was sore and he could not wait to get home and relax in one of his plush armchairs.

First, he intended to check on Mr. Michaels though. Not because he longed to see him again or because he couldn’t seem to get the man out of his mind, but because he worried. Both over him and his sister. He wanted to make sure all was well and…

He paused on a sudden idea. It could prove disastrous. With the duel between Finn and Ramsgate now scheduled for the next morning, he had enough to worry about. But the fact was Mr. Michaels’s living conditions weren’t the best. Least of all for a sickly child in need of recuperation. So it made sense for someone in Brody’s position to offer assistance.

First, however, he’d have to convince Mr. Michaels to let him back into his room.

He knocked when he arrived roughly one hour later. And waited. The sound of rustling ensued from behind the door, along with a series of thuds. It took a while before the door was finally opened by a bleary looking Mr. Michaels. He stared at Brody with undeniable surprise before covering a yawn with his hand.

Feeling bad, Brody gave him a sheepish smile. “Sorry. Were you sleeping?”

He nodded. “Why are you back?”

“I decided to check on you and your sister once more. How are the two of you doing?”

“Lucy ate some toast a couple of hours ago. She cast up the lot and is once again sleeping. I, on the other hand, am fine despite feeling as though my body was taken apart and reassembled.”

“I’m sorry. May I come in?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Mr. Michaels averted his gaze, his embarrassment clear in his pinkening cheeks.

Brody understood. He knew they were of a different class, and that Mr. Michaels was embarrassed by his inferior situation, even though Brody saw no reason why this should be. Mr. Michaels was so remarkable as an individual, he might have lived in a hole and Brody would still be impressed.

Inhaling deeply, he prepared himself for the battle ahead. “There’s something I’d like to discuss. It would be easier if we can sit down together and talk it through.”

Mr. Michaels’ eyes widened. “Is it about work? Has Mr. Hudson sacked me?”

“No,” Brody rushed to assure him. “All is well at work. In fact, I helped your team complete the chapter you were working on yesterday.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “It’s tough work and I was sitting down. I applaud you setting all of that type while on your feet the whole day.”

“I used to have a stool, but it got in the way when I had to deliver the forms to James. Standing was more efficient.”

Brody grinned. “You truly are incredible, do you know that?”

Mr. Michaels’s cheeks immediately reddened and he looked adorably bashful.

Brody shook himself. “What I wish to discuss may take time, that’s all. I’d rather not do it while standing out here in the stairwell where any number of people might overhear.”

Apprehension filled Mr. Michaels’s gaze but instead of protesting further, he stepped aside and allowed Brody to enter.

“I apologize for the lackluster surroundings,” Mr. Michaels said, his voice conveying a strong degree of self-consciousness over the squalor.

“I barely noticed,” Brody said, attempting to make light of the situation and put him at ease.

“Highly unlikely for someone like you, I should think.”

That got his attention. “Someone like me?”

Mr. Michaels stared at him as though weighing whether or not to say more. Eventually he confessed, “I know you’re a duke.”

“Ah.”

“Westcliffe’s butler gave it away.”

“Hmm…” It was Brody’s turn to feel slightly embarrassed. He’d been caught in an act of deception by someone he highly admired. Then again, Mr. Michaels would have learned the truth soon enough once Brody divulged his plan. But at least he would have learned it from him instead of from Anthony’s butler. He studied Mr. Michaels a moment, unable to figure out if the news bothered him or not. “Are you angry with me for lying to you?”

“Why should I be? It’s not my business if you’re a duke masquerading as someone from the working class, though I must confess I’m puzzled. Even if what you said about your financial troubles is true, the salary you receive at Hudson Co. can’t possibly be enough to cover a fraction of your expenses. So why do it?”

“Let’s sit and I’ll explain.” They pulled out the two wooden chairs that stood at the table and lowered themselves into them. Brody raked one hand through his hair and began. “My father’s death a few years ago made me foolish. In an effort to ignore my grief, I wasted most of my fortune on silly pursuits. Parties, gambling, and whoring, mostly. My friends did the same, having lost their fathers in the same ridiculous accident.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“We eventually became wiser, but by then we were bordering on financial ruin. Given our status within Society, expectations must be met. We can’t just go out and get a job. The way to a peer’s wealth is through inheritance and investment. Sadly, we squandered our inheritances and had terrible luck with our investments. And then Anthony – Westcliffe, that is – met your friend, Ada. She imparted some information regarding books and suggested that with Miss Austen’s unfortunate death last year, a gap has appeared in the market.”

Mr. Michaels nodded. “I’m actually in agreement. If a new author were to write a romance in a similar vein, I’m sure it would be torn from the shelves of every bookshop in the country.”

“Precisely what Ada believed, and convinced us of it too.” He held Mr. Michaels’s gaze. When he spoke next, it was in a whisper. “What I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this room. You cannot breathe a word of it to another soul. Understood?”

Mr. Michaels nodded. “You can trust me.”

For some incredulous reason, considering how brief their acquaintance had been, Brody didn’t doubt it. Perhaps it was in Mr. Michaels’s tone or the seriousness with which he seemed to approach everything he did, from work to caring for his sister. He seemed responsible. Trustworthy. And while Brody knew he was taking a risk – that the secret he was about to share was not his alone – he’d rather divulge it than have Mr. Michaels find out on his own. The chance of his doing so was certainly there, unless Brody gave him an adequate explanation for why he’d chosen to work at Hudson Co.

The truth seemed like the best option.

“My friends and I have written a book together. A romance novel, to be precise.”

Mr. Michaels’s lips parted with notable surprise. “Really?”

Brody nodded and had to clasp his hands together to stop them from trembling. He was suddenly nervous. More so than he’d been at any other point in his life. It was ridiculous, but it occurred to him that Mr. Michaels’s opinion on this mattered. Greatly.

Why? He could not – no, he dared not – say.

“I’m very impressed,” Mr. Michaels said, prompting a surge of warmth to expand Brody’s chest. “Writing a novel is no small feat. I’ve tried.”

“You have?”

“Gave up after the second chapter when I realized how long it would take to complete the story.” He shrugged. “I must not have wanted it badly enough. Or rather, I preferred reading to writing. Being part of the book creation process has always been a dream of mine though, and thankfully, opportunity gave me that chance.”

“As far as I can tell the job of compositor fits you perfectly.”

It was the strangest thing, but there was no doubt the compliment made Mr. Michaels blush all the way to his ears. He laughed with that sort of uncomfortable need to hide his response. The effect on Brody confirmed that he felt more for Mr. Michaels than what was proper and that his attraction toward the young man was no passing thing. However inconvenient and illegal it was.

Hell, if he pursued a relationship with him and he were discovered, his actions would see him hanged. Perhaps Mr. Michaels too. It was certainly enough to make a man think more than once or twice before acting. Wanting a kiss wasn’t nearly enough to risk his life over.

But if things progressed and he grew fonder of Mr. Michaels – if his feelings for him deepened and he fell in love—what then?

Would he be willing to stake his life on having a proper relationship with him?

His heart beat with sluggish movements. The very idea of what it would mean to bed him squeezed his lungs until he struggled to breathe.

He winced. A kiss was one thing a shag quite another. His stomach roiled. Christ have mercy, if only Mr. Michaels had been born a woman.

“Mr. Evans?”

Brody blinked. “Yes?”

“Is something wrong?” Mr. Michaels was watching him with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Giving his head a quick shake to dislodge all the muddled thoughts he’d been having, Brody folded his arms on the table. “Sorry. I got a bit distracted, that’s all.”

“My apologies. I shouldn’t have taken control of the conversation like that. Not when you were trying to tell me something important. Please, go ahead. I’d love to know more about this project of yours.”

Brody smiled. He liked the term ‘project’. It fit the undertaking he and his friends had embarked on perfectly. “After several failed attempts at getting our novel published, I happened upon the announcement in Hudson Co.’s window. It seemed like an excellent opportunity to get the novel noticed, so I applied for the job of assistant editor. After reviewing a few of the manuscripts in the slush pile, I finally showed the novel my friends and I had written to Mr. Hudson, who instantly loved it and asked me to present his offer to the author. That’s why I was at Westcliffe House.”

“Incredible.” Mr. Michaels gazed at him in dismay. “You mentioned friends, as in plural. Who else besides you and Westcliffe is involved in this project?”

“The Duke of Stratton.”

Astonishment filled Mr. Michaels’s eyes. “It’s hard to grasp. Not so much the writing part, but the fact that you’re a duke is something I still can’t get used to.”

“I would prefer if you didn’t,” Brody said. “I’ve enjoyed being treated without any fuss.”

“So I shouldn’t start saying, ‘Your Grace’?”

“Don’t you dare.”

Mr. Michaels chuckled before growing once again serious. “What’s your title?”

“Corwin, but I’d rather you call me Brody.”

“Brody.”

Brody shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The way Mr. Michaels whispered his name was too bloody sensual. And cause for additional worry.

Bloody hell and all its demons. What a disaster.

“I suppose you should call me Harry then.”

Brody nodded. Still numbed by the knowledge that everything he’d always known to be true of himself had been flipped on its head, he took a deep breath and slowly expelled it. “I’d like that. In fact, the matter I wish to discuss would probably be more acceptable to us both if we’re on familiar terms. Close friends, that is.”

Harry looked suddenly wary. “Go on.”

Brody met Harry’s gaze directly. “I want to propose that you and your sister come stay with me at my home until she has fully recovered.”

As he’d expected, Harry immediately shook his head. “Out of the question. We couldn’t possibly. I mean, it wouldn’t be proper.”

The last part of his complaint gave Brody pause. He frowned. “I don’t see why not. I’ve had friends visit from out of town plenty of times without it being the least bit improper. And if it’s your sister you’re thinking of, she would be in your care. Plus, she’s too young for her presence to cause a stir with anyone, I should think.”

“It’s very kind of you to offer, Mr.…ahem…Brody, but I really must decline.” He was fidgeting with the makeshift bandage he’d wrapped around his right hand. “The last thing you need, if you’re truly in financial straits, is two extra mouths to feed. Never mind the trouble of having a sickly child in your home.”

“First of all, my financial straits are not as dire as all that. As for the sickly child, I’m happy to do what I can to help my friend’s sister. It wouldn’t be a problem at all.”

“Perhaps not but—”

“Consider this before you dismiss the idea too quickly.” Brody glanced at the sickly girl, his heart aching for her. He could not leave her to suffer in this wretched place when he had the means to provide her with proper care. Somehow, he had to convince her brother. “Lucy will have her own room with a comfortable bed. She’ll have servants to help her during the night, so you’re not exhausted for work in the morning. And she can have baths – as many as she desires. There’s even a library filled with books where she can find something engaging to read should she get bored. Plus, my cook is excellent. She’ll make some good soup once Lucy is ready for more than toast and porridge.”

Harry gaped at Brody in silence for so long it almost looked like his brain had disconnected from his mouth. He eventually sighed. “That does sound rather lovely. I just don’t feel as though you and I have been friends long enough for it not to look like I’m taking advantage.”

“How can you be taking advantage when I am the one who suggested it to you?”

“I’m still not sure. I mean, this place may not be much but it’s our home. It’s where we have all our things.”

Brody glanced around, unsure of what all these things Harry referred to might be. He decided to hold his tongue on that score. Instead he said, “I can send a trunk or two over so you can pack. Bring whatever you need.”

Harry hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Without a doubt.”

Another sigh followed before Harry finally nodded. “Very well then. If you’re sure we won’t be a bother, we’ll come for a visit. But only until Lucy is well enough to hold down food and her fever has gone.”

“Perfect.” He’d convince them to stay a bit longer once they got settled, but for now he’d take what he could. With this in mind, he told Harry to start preparing for his and Lucy’s departure, and left with the promise that he’d be back soon with a carriage.