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.”
