“As am I,” Brody whispered. “I was shocked and confused when I realized you were a woman. And then I got so bloody angry. Not because you’d fooled me, but because you’d convinced me to turn my back on who I’ve always been. You made me want to reach for a different kind of future with Harry.”
“Only Harry doesn’t exist.” She took a ragged breath while Brody set his hand gently upon her shoulder.
“But Harriet does.” He moved his thumb back and forth with soothing strokes and prepared to say something more, but then the maid returned and he lost the chance.
Brody took the tray she brought and set it on the bedside table. The vase was whisked away, and a bucket placed next to the bed. Brody glanced at the clock. It was nearing three.
“The tea is here, if you’d like some,” he told Harriet. When she didn’t answer, he moved to the other side of the bed and crouched in front of her face. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted in slumber. He set his palm carefully to her forehead and frowned in response to the heat he felt there.
Straightening, he turned to Betsy. “I believe he’s got a fever. Can you please stay with him for a bit while I go wake my brother? He’s got an early meeting he can’t afford to miss.”
“Of course, Your Grace. I’m happy to watch over Mr. Michaels for as long as you need.”
“Thank you. I’ll make certain you have time for a nap later.”
The maid nodded and Brody went to get Finn out of bed. With the duel scheduled for five, they’d have to depart within the hour in order to make it to Hackney Meadow on time. Having reached Finn’s bedchamber door, Brody knocked.
“Come!”
Brody entered the room which was fully lit by two oil lamps. Already dressed, Finn was in the process of tying his cravat. His gaze swept over Brody.
“You’re not fully dressed.”
“I thought it best to make sure you were up first.”
“As you can see, I’m almost ready.”
“Did you sleep?”
“I couldn’t. Doesn’t look like you were able to either.”
“Too many thoughts.” Finn nodded and Brody took a moment to consider his overall appearance. “The ruby-tipped cravat pin suits you best. You should wear it.”
“Thank you.” Finn collected the pin from a box that stood on top of his dresser and pushed it through his cravat. “How’s that?”
Brody approached and paused when he was a foot away from his brother. Reaching up, he adjusted the pin. “Perfect.”
“I’ll go grab some biscuits from the kitchen. We can eat them on the way.”
“Betsy brought Miss Michaels some tea a short while ago, so there might be hot water left on the kettle. If so, I’d appreciate a cup of coffee before we go. Do you think you can manage that?”
Finn snorted. “What do you take me for? A helpless toff?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Brody told him gravely. Their father had always insisted they knew how to tend to their basic needs. He’d insisted Cook teach them both how to use a range to boil water and fry simple food. Their father had been a wise man indeed and Brody missed him dearly. The ache in his chest when he thought of him hadn’t diminished much since his death. It still had the weight of a thousand anvils bearing down on his chest.
Finn left for the kitchen while Brody returned to his room. He’d wanted to check on Harriet on the way, but dared not waste the time. So he got dressed quickly and checked the clock. He still had half an hour to spare.
Returning to Harriet’s room, he glanced at Betsy. “Can you please check on Lucy?”
Betsy bobbed a quick curtsey and went to do her master’s bidding, allowing Brody a moment of privacy with the woman who’d turned his entire world upside down. Her slumber was peaceful, he noted. She’d likely sleep like this for a while, oblivious to his stepping out to serve as Finn’s second.
If only he didn’t have to go. If only he could remain here at Harriet’s side. He approached the bed and checked her temperature with his palm, stilling as each of his heartbeats slowed in response. She felt hotter than she had fifteen minutes before. Unease swept his spine. Lucy had not been quite this hot. Had she?
Determined to do what he could, he grabbed the washcloth that hung by the washstand and dipped it in water. Once he’d wrung it, he crossed to the bed, nudged at Harriet until she shifted onto her back, and placed the damp cloth on her brow. She groaned and became slightly restless before settling back into deep sleep.
“Lucy appears to be well,” said Betsy. “She’s sleeping peacefully.”
So was Harriet. “Did you check her forehead?”
