Chapter 18

A painting clattered to the floor. Finn wheezed. His hands gripped Brody’s arms and hands in an effort to make him loosen his hold.

“Take it back,” Brody hissed. He pulled his brother away from the wall and slammed him against it once more. They’d not fought like this since they were children, scuffling about in the dirt. “You’ll not disrespect my guest.”

Finn pushed back, causing Brody to lose his balance. He tripped in an effort to regain his footing and fell to the floor, taking his brother down with him.

“Brody,” Finn gasped as he managed to get free and started to scramble away. “You’re mad.”

Brody caught him by the ankle and yanked him backward. His head connected with the floor.

“Augh!”

“You will apologize to me,” Brody snarled, forcing himself up and pinning Finn down. “And to Miss Michaels. This instant. Or so help me, you’ll not be attending that duel. I’ll bloody well kill you myself.”

“Jesus, Brody.” Finn twisted and tried to shove Brody away. “She must be a really good shag to have you so—”

Brody’s fist connected with Finn’s jaw. “You’re speaking of a gentlewoman, not a whore.”

Finn stared up at Brody. “But…I could see her nipples through that—”

Brody punched him again. “You’ll forget about that if you’ve got any sense. Now, are you going to apologize or do I need to keep hitting you?”

Finn brought his hands up to shield his face. “No. I mean yes. I’ll apologize, Brody. Of course I will. I’m sorry.”

Huffing a breath, Brody stood and reached for his brother’s hand so he could haul him to his feet. He straightened his jacket and turned to find the space behind him empty.

“Where did she go?” Finn asked, giving voice to Brody’s thoughts.

“She must have left when we tumbled to the floor.” He sent his brother a sidelong glance and saw that a bruise was rapidly forming on his right cheek. “Do you want a slab of meat to dull the pain?”

Finn shook his head, then headed for the sideboard where he poured himself a large glass of brandy. “I can’t believe you actually punched me.”

“I’ll do it again if you don’t watch that reckless tongue of yours.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” Finn said, “but would you have come to blows with me if I’d insulted someone else? Or is Miss Michaels of particular interest?”

Brody sighed and went to return the fallen painting to the wall. “It’s complicated.”

“I’m the king of complicated, Brody.” Finn grinned and gulped down some brandy. “So tell me about it.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Why?”

For a thousand different reasons.

“Because it’s personal, that’s why.”

Finn tracked Brody as he walked to his chair and waited until he was seated before stating, “You’re in love with her.”

Brody raised an eyebrow. “Watch it.”

Finn scoffed. He dropped into one of the two chairs that stood across from the desk, spilling some of his drink. “Deny it as much as you like, but you’ve never been this protective of any woman before. Admit it.”

His brother was right. The elemental need to come to Harriet’s defense had been instant and fierce. It went beyond the protectiveness Finn spoke of.

“Fine. I’ll allow that I might be slightly smitten.” He was also very upset and hurt, not to mention unsure of what to do next where she was concerned. Initially, he’d been compelled to lash out and push her away. He’d wanted to distance himself from her as much as possible. He scrubbed his jaw and considered Finn who was wearing the most annoying smirk he’d ever seen. “She tricked me though. Turns out she’s not who she claimed to be.”

Finn’s expression turned serious. He appeared to mull that statement over for a moment before asking, “Was there ill-intent behind her deception?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“What’s the problem?” Brody gaped at his brother. “The person I fell for doesn’t exist, Finn. I lost my heart to a damn lie.”

“Are you sure about that?” When Brody didn’t respond right away Finn pressed, “Papa always said love is born from the harmony found between two well-matched souls. It’s not external, so it should have nothing to do with who Miss Michaels may have claimed to be, but rather with who she is right here.” He pressed his fist to his chest. “Focus on that and I’m sure you’ll find the connection you shared is real.”

Brody sank against his chair in baffled silence. Not in a million years would he have expected his scamp of a brother to impart such words of wisdom.

Swallowing, he acknowledged the tightness in his chest and the way his pulse fluttered with newfound hope. The clock on a nearby shelf ticked as he pondered the threat he’d made Harriet earlier – of severing ties with her forever.

A sharp pain pierced his heart, causing him to wince as he realized that losing her would likely kill him. Because…

The truth of it was that she and Harry were one and the same. If anything, Harriet was all the more impressive because of the sacrifice she had made in order to care for her sister. By choosing to live as a man, she’d given up her identity as a woman, denying herself the chance to meet a man who might love her for who she truly was.

She was kind, caring, and utterly selfless while he… He was beginning to think he might be a bit of a moron. Because the more he sat there, allowing Finn’s words to settle more fully inside his thick head, he realized it wasn’t Harry he loved. It was Harriet. It had been all along. Without her, Harry could not have existed.

He stared at his brother. “That is shockingly insightful of you.”

“I have my moments.” Finn grinned.

“Apparently so.” Brody glanced at his desk where Finn’s will awaited. The hour was getting late. They ought to start with the necessary adjustments. He’d have to put the matter pertaining to Harriet Michaels on hold for the moment. With this in mind he told Finn, “The duel is in six hours. If we’re to get some sleep before then, I suggest we proceed.”

“Agreed.”

Finn reached for the papers and started reviewing, yet despite his best efforts, Brody could not get Harriet out of his mind. She was stuck there. During their acquaintance, she had become the person he looked forward to seeing most every morning.

She was more than kind, caring, and selfless. And he couldn’t imagine his life without her.

This notion stayed with him as he retired a half hour later. It made it impossible for him to sleep. The need to speak with her – to try and resolve their differences – kept him from rest. Which meant that he was awake and able to hear the rush of footsteps in the hallway at two in the morning.

Curious to know what was going on, he shoved the blankets aside and climbed from his bed. After getting dressed quickly, he left his room and paused to listen. A faint groan caught his attention, and he instantly worried Lucy had taken a turn for the worse.

Intent on checking to see if the doctor might have been sent for, he hurried in the direction from which the sound had come. But when he poked his head inside Lucy’s room, all was quiet. He closed the door gently and tilted his head. It sounded like someone was bustling about in the room next door where Harriet slept. Brody approached, stilling when he heard an agonized whimper. The muffled voice of a woman followed.

Determined to know what was going on, Brody gave the door a quick knock and nudged it open just enough to peer inside. What he saw nearly stopped his heart.

The vibrant person who’d muddled his mind beyond reason had been reduced to a sickly individual. Harriet’s face was pale and tears swam in her eyes. Wrapped in a simple dressing gown fashioned from coarse white linen, she clutched at her stomach.

“Looks like he’s got the same ailment his sister’s been suffering from,” said Betsy, the elderly maid who’d come to Harriet’s aid. “I’ve only just managed to um…get him back into bed. He was sitting on the floor when I arrived, over by the bell-pull.”

The words were barely spoken before Harriet retched and vomited into a vase. The flowers that had previously filled said vase were scattered across the carpet.

“Go away,” Harriet groaned. “I… Oh no…”

Brody’s chest tightened. Without thinking he rushed forward, perching himself on the edge of the bed and stroking her back while she vomited once again.

“I’ve got you,” he soothed before glancing at the maid. “A bucket, if you will, and maybe a cup of hot tea along with some water. I’ll stay with Mr. Michaels while you fetch it.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” The maid left.

“Would you like me to send for the doctor?” Brody asked. He took the vase from Harriet’s hands and set it aside on the floor. She shook her head without meeting his gaze. Reaching up, he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “Something else perhaps?”

“No.”

“You’ll be all right in a couple of days. Lucy’s already faring better and you clearly have the same thing.” It was imperative he be as optimistic as possible even though his gut was twisted into a tight knot. It felt like his chest had been chopped open by a blunt axe. Seeing her in pain and feeling like he could do nothing but wait for her to recover was awful.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then slowly released it while lying back. A tear appeared at the corner of one eye before trickling down her cheek. Brody swept it aside with his finger.

“Please go away,” she muttered.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

She swallowed and turned her head so she stared not at him but at the wall when next she spoke. “Why not?”

“Because…” He grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Despite everything, there’s no denying I care for you as a person, whether that person be Harry or Harriet.”

She pressed her lips together, her entire body beginning to tremble as she started weeping in earnest. “You don’t have to treat me well just because I’m sick.”

“Harriet, I—”

She wrenched her hand free from his and turned onto her side, offering him her back. “You were right. Everything you said is true. I’m a horrible person for what I did. Our kiss should never have happened. I should have been honest with you and perhaps then… I don’t know. I’m so incredibly sorry.”

“As am I,” Brody whispered. “I was shocked and confused when I realized you were a woman. And then I got so bloody angry. Not because you’d fooled me, but because you’d convinced me to turn my back on who I’ve always been. You made me want to reach for a different kind of future with Harry.”

“Only Harry doesn’t exist.” She took a ragged breath while Brody set his hand gently upon her shoulder.

“But Harriet does.” He moved his thumb back and forth with soothing strokes and prepared to say something more, but then the maid returned and he lost the chance.

Brody took the tray she brought and set it on the bedside table. The vase was whisked away, and a bucket placed next to the bed. Brody glanced at the clock. It was nearing three.

“The tea is here, if you’d like some,” he told Harriet. When she didn’t answer, he moved to the other side of the bed and crouched in front of her face. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted in slumber. He set his palm carefully to her forehead and frowned in response to the heat he felt there.

Straightening, he turned to Betsy. “I believe he’s got a fever. Can you please stay with him for a bit while I go wake my brother? He’s got an early meeting he can’t afford to miss.”

“Of course, Your Grace. I’m happy to watch over Mr. Michaels for as long as you need.”

“Thank you. I’ll make certain you have time for a nap later.”

The maid nodded and Brody went to get Finn out of bed. With the duel scheduled for five, they’d have to depart within the hour in order to make it to Hackney Meadow on time. Having reached Finn’s bedchamber door, Brody knocked.

“Come!”

Brody entered the room which was fully lit by two oil lamps. Already dressed, Finn was in the process of tying his cravat. His gaze swept over Brody.

“You’re not fully dressed.”

“I thought it best to make sure you were up first.”

“As you can see, I’m almost ready.”

“Did you sleep?”

“I couldn’t. Doesn’t look like you were able to either.”

“Too many thoughts.” Finn nodded and Brody took a moment to consider his overall appearance. “The ruby-tipped cravat pin suits you best. You should wear it.”

“Thank you.” Finn collected the pin from a box that stood on top of his dresser and pushed it through his cravat. “How’s that?”

Brody approached and paused when he was a foot away from his brother. Reaching up, he adjusted the pin. “Perfect.”

“I’ll go grab some biscuits from the kitchen. We can eat them on the way.”

“Betsy brought Miss Michaels some tea a short while ago, so there might be hot water left on the kettle. If so, I’d appreciate a cup of coffee before we go. Do you think you can manage that?”

Finn snorted. “What do you take me for? A helpless toff?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Brody told him gravely. Their father had always insisted they knew how to tend to their basic needs. He’d insisted Cook teach them both how to use a range to boil water and fry simple food. Their father had been a wise man indeed and Brody missed him dearly. The ache in his chest when he thought of him hadn’t diminished much since his death. It still had the weight of a thousand anvils bearing down on his chest.

Finn left for the kitchen while Brody returned to his room. He’d wanted to check on Harriet on the way, but dared not waste the time. So he got dressed quickly and checked the clock. He still had half an hour to spare.

Returning to Harriet’s room, he glanced at Betsy. “Can you please check on Lucy?”

Betsy bobbed a quick curtsey and went to do her master’s bidding, allowing Brody a moment of privacy with the woman who’d turned his entire world upside down. Her slumber was peaceful, he noted. She’d likely sleep like this for a while, oblivious to his stepping out to serve as Finn’s second.

If only he didn’t have to go. If only he could remain here at Harriet’s side. He approached the bed and checked her temperature with his palm, stilling as each of his heartbeats slowed in response. She felt hotter than she had fifteen minutes before. Unease swept his spine. Lucy had not been quite this hot. Had she?

Determined to do what he could, he grabbed the washcloth that hung by the washstand and dipped it in water. Once he’d wrung it, he crossed to the bed, nudged at Harriet until she shifted onto her back, and placed the damp cloth on her brow. She groaned and became slightly restless before settling back into deep sleep.

“Lucy appears to be well,” said Betsy. “She’s sleeping peacefully.”

So was Harriet. “Did you check her forehead?”

“Yes, Your Grace. She’s cool to the touch. I believe she’s on the mend.”

As relieved as Brody was to hear this, his heart still hurt over having to leave Harriet’s side. In one short fortnight she’d become everything to him. He couldn’t stand the idea of being parted from her while she suffered, of not knowing whether she was improving or…

No. He could not think like that. It was just a stomach upset brought on by something she’d eaten. She’d recover, all would be well, and he’d…

Brody stared at her sleeping form.

In his anger, he’d said things that couldn’t be unsaid. He’d deliberately lashed out with every intention of wounding, and he was fairly certain he’d succeeded. What difference did it make if she’d wronged him? Right now, his greatest concern was whether or not they could find a way past all of this. Did she even care for him as deeply as he cared for her?

“Brody?” He turned at the sound of his brother’s voice and blinked. “What are you doing in here?”

“She’s sick, Finn.” God, he could barely speak, his throat was so hoarse.

“With the same thing Lucy’s got?”

“I think so.”

Finn glanced at the bed. “When did you find out?”

“Right before coming to wake you.” He swept one hand across his brow and hung his head while attempting to work up the strength required to leave this room. “Her fever seems to be rising.”

When Finn said nothing, Brody tightened his muscles and forced his body to straighten. He could not – would not – fall apart on account of this. He’d faced worse. This would pass. He turned to the door with decisive movements. “We need to get going.”

“I need to get going,” Finn said. “You’ve got to stay here.”

“Impossible. You need me there as your second.”

“I’ll wake Rhys and ask him to come in your stead.”

“No.” Brody shook his head. “You’re about to engage in a duel, Finn. What sort of brother would I be if I weren’t there to support you?”

Finn placed one hand on Brody’s shoulder and met his gaze. “The sort who attempted to stop me from ending up in this situation to begin with. I should have listened.”

“Finn, I—”

“She needs you too, Brody. More, I’ll wager, considering she’s feeling wretched in a strange house. It would be good for her to find you here when she wakes. Besides, what brother would I be if I made you choose me over the woman you love?”

“It’s my duty to be there for you when you need me, Finn. I have to protect you.”

“Not anymore.” Finn, moved to the door. “She’s your future now, Brody. I’ll fetch Rhys and then I’ll be off. I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t get yourself killed,” Brody warned.

Finn waved him off as he disappeared into the hallway. “It’s only to first blood. I’ll be fine.”

Brody dearly hoped so. He was still considering hurrying after him when the front door slammed shut ten minutes later. After crossing to the window, he glanced down at the street below where Finn proceeded to flag down a hackney.

Poor Rhys, who’d been dragged from his bed one hour too early with no time to dress, was still buttoning his jacket before climbing into the carriage Finn had acquired. The conveyance set off and Brody’s shoulders slumped in response to the guilt that now gripped him.

He should have gone with his brother. It was wrong of him not to.

A soft murmur rose from behind him. Turning, he saw that Harriet squirmed beneath the covers. He rushed to her side and felt the washcloth he’d draped across her brow. It was warm to the touch and would have to be soaked in cool water once more.

But when he prepared to see to the task, Harriet produced such an agonized groan, it froze him in place. He stared at her, unsure of what he should do as her breaths quickened and she moved her head side to side. “I need…”

Snapping out of his trance at the realization she faced the wrong way, Brody rushed to collect the bucket. He barely managed to get it under her head before it was too late. Convulsive movements shook her as her stomach attempted to rid itself of additional contents, but there was hardly anything left.

“I think you should drink something,” he said once she’d settled against her pillows once more. He collected the washcloth, which had fallen into her lap, and used it to wipe her mouth. “It will make it easier on your muscles if there’s something for you to cast up.”

“No,” she said in a barely-there whisper. She gave her head a violent shake.

Deciding she’d probably be all right for the next few minutes, Brody decided to let the matter rest as he went to rinse the washcloth. Selecting a clean one, he soaked it, wrung it, and placed it on her brow.

She sighed as though with welcome relief. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He considered the untouched teacup that sat on the bedside table and decided to fill it. Once this was done, he swept one arm under Harriet’s back.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you sit so you can drink.”

“I said no.”

“Don’t be so bloody stubborn and let me care for you, will you?”

She tried to twist away. “Have you forgotten how much you hate me?”

He stilled before lowering into a crouch and pulling her into his arms so he could embrace her. “I could never hate you, Harriet. Not in a million years.”

“How is that possible?”

“We’ll discuss it once you’re better. For now, I’d suggest some tea.”

She sent the teacup a hesitant look as she withdrew from Brody’s arms. “I don’t think I can.”

“Please try.”

Moving slowly, with hesitant movements, she set the cup to her lips and drank. When she returned the cup to the bedside table, Brody was glad to see it was more than half empty.

“Well done.” He stood and tucked the blankets around her. “How do you feel?”

She eyed him with an are-you-seriously-asking-me-that kind of look. “Awful. As though the slightest movement will see that tea end up in the bucket.”

“Maybe I should send for the doctor.” He glanced at the floor. “Have you made use of the chamber pot too?”

“What do you think?” she asked, her tone grumpy.

He nodded. “I’ll have one of the maids come and fetch it.”

“I’d rather see to it myself.”

“You’re in no position to do so and well you know it.” When her only response to this was a sullen look, he said, “It’s a good thing you managed to put on that dressing gown prior to Betsy’s arrival. As far as I know, she still believes you to be Mr. Michaels instead of Miss Michaels.”

“Sorry. My head hurts…Your Grace. I can’t follow your logic.”

“I know what I said when we argued, but can we please go back to being informal?” When she gave a small nod he told her, “The shirt you wore when you came to my study last night was more revealing than you probably realized. Anyone who saw you like that would have known you’re a woman. It was…obvious.”

Harriet stared at him a moment and then her lips parted on a small gasp as she squeezed her eyes shut. “Just when I though it couldn’t get worse.”

“Do you think you can keep up the act?”

“Of course. I’ve been living as Harry for over two years.”

“Good. Because having an unmarried gentlewoman staying beneath the same roof as two bachelors would make for quite the scandal.”

“I…” She tuned on her side and proceeded to cast up her tea.

Brody swallowed a curse and sat down beside her, doing whatever he could to add a small bit of comfort.