Chapter 21

Harriet shot upright the moment she heard the stricken words. She stared at the maid who stood inside the doorway, her eyes wide with dismay.

“Betsy,” said Brody. Having woken as well, he was already sitting up in bed. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Betsy shook her head. “Ho…How can it not be?”

This was a very good question, Harriet decided. After all, the maid believed her to be a man. And Betsy had not only walked in on Harriet and Brody in the same bed. The bedding had also been partially tossed to one side and Harriet’s nightgown pushed all the way up to the top of her thigh. Worse, they’d been sandwiched together when Betsy arrived, with Brody’s arm snuggly around Harriet’s waist.

Not good.

“I can explain,” Brody told her. “If you’ll please close the door.”

“And risk getting locked up in here with two perverts?” She clucked her tongue. “Not on my life, I tell you. I’m a God-fearing woman, Your Grace, and what you’re about is a hanging offense. I’ll not be a party to it.”

“You don’t understand, Betsy. I’m not…” He stared at the maid while she stared back. “Mr. Michaels isn’t…I mean, we weren’t…Just give me a chance to clarify things.”

Betsy shook her head wildly. “I’m sorry. I’ve always liked and respected you, which is why I’ll not mention a word of this to another soul. That said, this is too much. You give me no choice but to seek work elsewhere.”

“Please…” Brody tried, his expression twisted with pain.

Harriet’s heart ached for him. All of this was her fault. She could not allow this woman to threaten his life and his reputation, as Harriet knew she’d likely do, despite her words to the contrary. Containing this sort of information would be a struggle. She’d let it slip at some point and then the world would believe that Betsy found the Duke of Corwin in bed with his male lover.

The rest of Brody’s servants would verify that Mr. Michaels had indeed been a guest at that time.

She couldn’t allow for any of that to happen. Not after all Brody had done for her.

“Betsy,” she tried, adding as much strength as she could to her weak voice. “The duke is correct. You’ve mistaken the situation.”

“I applaud your attempt at trying to muddle my mind, but I know what I saw, Mr. Michaels. You in his arms, intertwined like a pair of lovers.”

“You’re right,” said Harriet. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and took a deep breath.

“You don’t have to do this,” Brody informed her while giving her shoulder a gentle touch of his hand.

“Of course I do. It’s the only way to stop this mess I’ve created from hurting you further.” She planted her feet on the floor and pushed herself upright, using the edge of the bed to hold herself steady. “My name is not Mr. Michaels.”

Betsy snorted. “Your name hardly signifies, sir. It’s your gender that’s the problem.”

“Agreed. Which is why you should also know that I’m not the man you believe me to be. I’m a woman.”

Betsy’s jaw dropped. She gaped at Harriet for a second before collecting herself and saying, “I don’t believe you. If you were a woman I’d have noticed. Everyone would have.”

“Look closer,” Harriet told her. “I swear to you upon the soul of my mother that I am in earnest.”

Betsy firmed her mouth and gave Harriet a dubious look before glancing at Brody.

“Go ahead,” he encouraged.

Looking much like she was about to get burned, Betsy stepped nearer and peered at Harriet’s face. “I’m sorry, but you could be either or as far as I’m concerned.”

Brody, who’d also gotten out of bed, sighed with what sounded like pure frustration. “She’s a woman, Betsy. I assure you.”

“And I think you’re both trying to trick me in order to save your hides.”

“Betsy, you’ve seen me with countless women before,” Brody argued. “I had a mistress for years.”

Not something Harriet cared to envision. An ugly emotion twisted inside her, attempting to clutch at her heart.

“True,” Betsy agreed, “but maybe that was the ruse, to prevent the world from figuring out what your true nature really is.”

“Oh, for the love of all that’s holy,” Harriet hissed as she pulled up her nightgown. “There. Do you believe me now?”

“Um…” Betsy backed away a few steps. She glanced at Brody, who was presently pinching the bridge of his nose while muttering something incoherent. Betsy’s gaze returned to Harriet. “How… I mean why…”

“I did it for work-related reasons,” Harriet explained. She pulled her nightgown back down.

“I see.” Betsy frowned. “So you’re to be his new mistress?”

“No,” Brody said, his voice clipped.

Betsy blinked. “I don’t understand. What else can she be?”

“I’m merely a friend,” Harriet tried. “His Grace was kind enough to help me and my sister, that’s all.”

“And it looks like you gave what he asked for in return,” Betsy remarked. “There’s a name for that, you know.”

“Don’t,” Brody warned.

“It’s called whoring, my dear.”

“Get out,” Brody told her before raising his voice to a roar. “Get out of my house this instant!”

Betsy stumbled backward. “You’re mad. And to think I had such high respect for your poor parents.”

“How dare you bring them into this?” Brody asked.

Betsy retreated to the hallway. “They’d be ashamed of how low you’ve fallen.”

“Pack your things,” Brody seethed as he crossed to where Betsy still stood, “and leave. I want you gone within the hour.”

“You needn’t worry yourself about that,” Betsy told him. She raised her chin as though with defiance. “No way I’m staying here for one second longer than what I have to.”

Brody slammed the door in her face and promptly punched the wall. “Damn!”

“So much for keeping a low profile,” Harriet muttered. She bit her lip as the magnitude of their actions came tumbling down around her.

She might have proved she wasn’t a man and saved Brody from charges of sodomy. But she’d ruined her alter ego. Harry had been destroyed. He couldn’t exist when the truth was out there, ready to spread at this very second. It would only be a matter of time before Mr. Hudson found out about it. Such things would make their way to the gossip columns. Especially when a duke was involved. And now that Betsy required work, she’d probably sell the story the first chance she got.

To suppose it might be bottled up would be na?ve.

“Why did you do that?” Brody demanded.

He was glaring at her from across the room, looking strangely feral but also wildly appealing. Her brain was clearly affected by the lingering effects of her fever. She wasn’t thinking clearly or she would have known to be very afraid of that angry gleam in his eyes.

Oddly enough, she was anything but.

“I couldn’t let her think you were intimately involved with a man. She’d have called the authorities on you.”

“I am a duke, Harriet. I’m fairly sure I could have discredited her somehow.”

“So you would have lied?”

“Of course not.” He was prowling toward her with menacing strides. “I would have told the truth – explained the situation for what it was.”

She raised her chin. “How is that different from what I did?”

“It just is.” His eyes were aflame when he came to a halt before her, so close she could feel the heat of his body. Breathing raggedly, he traced the side of her face with the back of his hand. When he spoke next, his voice had softened to barely a whisper. “You gave up everything for me.”

“And I would do it again, Brody.”

He held her gaze. “Why?”

Ignoring the pounding of her heart and the uncomfortable queasiness settling deep in her stomach, she told him all he needed to know. “Because I love you.”

His answering kiss was instant, unapologetic, and fierce. He kissed her as though he were starved, as if he’d been parched for a thousand years, like she was the essence of life itself – the key to his survival. It was rough and needy. His hands were everywhere, clutching and gripping, his fingertips pressing into her flesh and holding her to him.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped as he broke the kiss and buried his face in the crook of her shoulder. Breathing hard, he managed to ask, “Are you all right?”

She chuckled lightly. “I was pretty dizzy before. Now I’m—”

“God, I’m a beast.” He loosened his hold and eased her onto the edge of the bed. “Sorry, but how could I not respond as I did after what you just told me?”

She tried not to think of the fact that he hadn’t repeated the words. It wasn’t important.

Unable to speak past the sudden lump in her throat, she merely nodded.

“We will get through this. Betsy will not destroy your reputation, Harriet. I’ll save you as you saved me.”

“It’s too late for that, I should think. She’ll say what she will and the gossip will spread.”

“Most likely,” he agreed. “You will be sneered at as a result, your sister ruined by association.”

“Yes,” she whispered as tears filled her eyes. She’d sacrificed not only herself, but Lucy as well. What sort of sister did that?

“Unless you’re beyond reproach,” Brody murmured. He leaned his forehead against hers and said, “Marry me, Harriet.”

She blinked. “What?”

“If you’re my wife and duchess, all of this goes away.”

“Brody, I don’t think—”

“No one will dare say a word against you. I swear it.”

“It’s very heroic of you to offer, but…” She shook her head.

“Think of Lucy.” His intense blue eyes bored into hers. “She’ll have a chance at the future your parents wanted for her, and while I’ll admit I lack the funds one might expect of a duke, I plan to do better. All I’m asking is for you to give me a chance.”

A chance at forever. A marriage from which there could be no escape if either of them changed their mind. She wasn’t so worried about herself for she knew what was in her heart. But what about him? He’d made no declaration of love. His only motivation, it seemed, was the chance to be the hero. And where would that leave them as they settled into their daily routine?

For a second, she considered agreeing on the condition that he would swear fidelity to her, but she quickly abandoned that notion. It wouldn’t be fair. If he tired of her, he should be permitted to find his happiness elsewhere. This would not be a love match for him, but it would be convenient. For her.

Only a fool would walk away from the chance of a lifetime.

Harriet took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. Marrying a man she loved without knowing if he could ever love her in return would likely kill her, but he’d made the one argument to force her hand. She had to do it for Lucy.

With this in mind, she gave her answer. “Very well. I accept.”