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.
14
This wasn’t meant to have happened.
Harriet stared in silent amazement at the parlor she’d been led to. It was just as impressive as everything else she’d seen of Corwin House so far. Crown moldings adorned every ceiling. Wainscoting graced every wall. Chandeliers dripping with crystals lit every room. The bedchambers, both hers and Lucy’s, were so luxurious Harriet feared she might tarnish the space the moment she set foot inside it.
If only she had more appropriate clothes to wear.
Unfortunately, she possessed only two masculine outfits, one of which required a thorough laundering after her scuffle that morning. She’d changed into a set of clean clothes before coming here, but she still felt like a pauper who belonged more readily on the street than in such splendor.
She shouldn’t, she reflected after making sure Lucy was installed in her bedchamber and all her needs met. Before their father died, she and her sister had both been accustomed to comfortable living, though nothing quite as extravagant as this.
Standing in front of a tall window framed by curtains crafted from golden silk, Harriet gazed out at the street. Even that was expensive looking compared with where she currently resided.
