“Why not?” He sounded genuinely curious.
She licked her lips, set her glass aside on the table, and leaned back, moving her feet so their ankles connected. He didn’t move and neither did she. It was much too nice, this intimacy that existed between them. She sighed, enjoyed the weightlessness in her bones before glancing at him. “I haven’t had the need.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Brody muttered.
“Why?”
He shrugged. “You’re in your prime. Only what, seventeen years of age?”
“Eighteen, to be precise.”
“And when was the last time you bedded a woman?”
“I’ve not…that is…I…”
A long and uncomfortable silence followed before Brody quietly asked. “Are you saying you’ve never done it?”
Harriet answered without even thinking. “Yes.”
“I see.” The remark was very observational in nature and seemed to suggest a great deal of insight.
“You’re surprised,” Harriet said. Of course he would be. She was supposed to be masquerading as a man, not an unmarried woman. Hoping to shrug off what he clearly viewed as unusual behavior, she told him, “There’s nothing wrong with choosing not to go whoring about.”
“Of course not.” He sounded affronted now. “I don’t much care for whoring myself.”
She sent him a sidelong look. “Good to know.”
He snorted. “Generally speaking, I prefer a permanent partner, of which I’ve had only a few.”
Annoyed with the turn the conversation had taken, Harriet couldn’t refrain from asking, “And who is your lucky paramour now?”
“I haven’t any, at the moment, though I am hoping that might soon change.”
“Really?”
“If things turn out as I hope. Truth be told, it’s a bit of a tricky situation.” He chuckled with enough edginess to catch Harriet’s attention. “Perhaps you can advise me?”
“I can certainly try, though with my inexperience taken into account, I doubt I’ll be much use.”
“All I’m after right now is that first kiss.” When Harriet didn’t reply he asked, “You have been kissed before, have you not?”
“Of course. Oliver…” She could have bitten her own tongue off right then and there. Not even daring to look at Brody, she stared straight ahead without seeing a thing.
“Oliver kissed you?” His voice was tighter than before, his posture a hard block of steel. “Is that what you’re telling me, Harry?”
“No. That would be wrong.” She leapt to her feet. Hugging herself, she backed away, moving toward the book case and adding as much space between them as possible. “I mean…it wouldn’t be right. No. It wasn’t Oliver. It was…it was… Mary. That’s what I meant.”
Brody stood and approached her with unhurried movements. “You can be honest with me, Harry. I won’t accuse you or judge you.”
“Please.” Her eyes welled with tears, not because of herself or what she risked losing if Brody found out she wasn’t a man, but for Oliver’s sake. She’d sworn she’d keep his secret safe and instead she’d revealed it to someone who had the power to have him arrested and killed. Brody was no ordinary man, he was a powerful duke. She shook her head while pressing herself against the book case. “Don’t tell anyone. Promise me, Brody, I beg you.”
“There’s no need for that,” he whispered, coming to stand before her. “Your secret is safe with me. So is Oliver’s. I shan’t tell a soul. You have my word.”
She sagged with relief. “Thank you. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I believe the wine you had for dinner and the port you’ve had after may have loosened your tongue. Nothing to be ashamed of.” He was standing so close she’d press up against him if she were to straighten her posture. And he was watching her with the same heated look she’d seen in the parlor. It had the most inappropriate effect on her body.
“Might I ask…are you and Oliver together? As a couple, I mean.”
