Filled with excitement, he left the library, book in hand.
Not even Finn or his upcoming duel could dampen Brody’s mood as he climbed the stairs with a lighter tread than usual.
He arrived in the upstairs hallway just in time to see a maid named Anne and two footmen with empty buckets, exiting Harry’s room.
“I trust Mr. Michaels’s bath has been readied?” he asked.
“Yes, Your Grace.” Anne bobbed a quick curtsey. “He should have all that he needs.”
“Thank you, Anne.” Brody watched the three servants disappear into the service stairwell. With one final glance at Harry’s door, Brody continued past it to his own room. He’d not barge in on his guest while he was undressing or bathing, no matter how tempting it was to do so.
Their relationship, he decided, was much too fresh for that. Worse, Harry might think him too pushy or desperate. So he determined to wait in his own bedchamber for the next twenty minutes, which was the time it took him to bathe and get dressed. There was no rush. Finn wasn’t expected home until ten.
Plus, the time would give him a chance to let the euphoria from his first kiss with Harry subside enough for him to consider his reason for meeting with Finn. The main purpose was to revise his brother’s will in anticipation of the duel that would take place in… He glanced at the clock. A little under eight hours.
If only there were a way for Finn to avoid it, but no matter how much Brody’d thought on the matter, he’d not been able to find an alternative solution. Of course, he could take Finn’s place. He was a better swordsman. But doing so would not only damage Finn’s pride. It would also embarrass him publicly.
Besides, Finn would never agree.
Brody shoved his hands in his pockets and stared out the window. The light was dimmed to an almost unnatural glow with the setting sun dipping behind the rooftops. Darkness would settle within the next hour at most. He expelled a weary breath and shook his head sadly. It was his duty as older brother to protect Finn from harm. But it was tough to do when the idiot always seemed intent on diving head first into trouble.
The only comfort he found was in knowing that Ramsgate would not fight to kill. The duel was to first blood only, but that didn’t mean a man couldn’t die. Accidents happened, after all, and they were more likely to do so when men wielded deadly weapons.
He glanced at the clock and experienced some relief at noting the hour. Harry ought to be done with his bath by now. Seeing him again, if only briefly, would be like a balm to his troubled soul.
GrabbingThe Victim of Prejudice– his excuse, that was – he left his bedchamber and walked the short distance to Harry’s. There he paused outside the door. His heart started pounding and his hand clenched the book. A sweat broke out at the nape of his neck. This was worse than the first time he’d had to ask a young lady to dance.
He’d just turned seventeen. Papa and Mama had insisted he dance. He’d been extremely self-conscious, knowing he’d not yet mastered the steps. Thankfully all had worked out in the end. His dance partner had made it easy since she’d been as clumsy as he. They’d laughed about it together, both during and after, and had always saved a dance for each other since. Even after she’d married.
He took a deep breath and expelled it.
Don’t be a dunderhead, Brody. This is your house. Knock on the bloody door.
He gave it a quick rap. When nobody answered he made a second attempt. “Harry?”
Still nothing. He must have finished his bath faster than Brody expected and gone back to check on Lucy. A touch disappointed, Brody decided to drop the book off on Harry’s nightstand. He tried the handle and the door swung open, allowing Brody to enter at the exact same time as a naked body emerged from the tub.
Brody stared. Harry must have had his head underwater and been unable to hear the knocks. But even as what Brody saw made his body react with need, the information his eyes were sending his brain didn’t make any sense.
“What the hell?”
Harry gasped as he turned in Brody’s direction, slipping and almost falling in his attempt to cover himself. Except this wasn’t Harry. It couldn’t be. There were certain bits missing. Bits that should have been there if this was indeed the lad Brody had kissed.
“Can you please shut the door?” asked the person –notHarry – now crouching inside the tub.
Brody flinched as if struck before doing as asked and setting the book he’d brought with him aside on the dresser. He stared at the tub, unable to fathom this turn of events as he made his approach and peered inside. While his body was clearly pleased to discover the naked woman before him, his brain was beginning to take an entirely different stance.
His jaw tightened as anger and hurt began taking root. He’d been deceived in the most spectacular way possible.
“What is this?” he growled. “What’s going on?”
“May I please have a towel?”
He glared at the individual he’d imagined himself in love with. “No. I think I’ll let you huddle there in discomfort for a moment – give you a chance to feel what I’ve felt since the moment we met. Who are you?”
“Harriet Michaels,” she whispered, her voice tiny and meek, though she did hold his gaze.
“Well, I must congratulate you on your mighty success. I fell for your act in every conceivable way.” He snorted. “That was your intention, was it not?”
