“Of course. I didn’t even realize she was Harriet until after she was…” Brody scratched the back of his neck. “It’s not important. But yes, my servants also believe she’s a man.”
Anthony swung into the saddle. His gaze was serious as it met Brody’s. “Be sure to keep it that way if you plan to protect her reputation. She’ll be outed as a charlatan otherwise and possibly labeled a whore for living with two unmarried men.”
“I know. I’ll be careful.”
“Please do so or Ada will have my head. She did not support my insisting you go after Harriet yesterday. For precisely this reason.”
“Your wife’s a wise woman,” Brody said, “but I have to confess that I’m glad you did what you did.”
“Then why the hell did you punch me?”
“A matter of principal. You understand.”
Anthony chuckled, shook his head, and urged his horse into a trot, allowing Brody to head home. He arrived at his house just as a carriage pulled up. The door opened and Finn alit, followed by Rhys.
Brody rushed forward. The amount of relief he felt over seeing his brother alive could not be measured. As much as he’d tried to ignore the danger of dueling, convincing himself that all would be well since Ramsgate had only demanded first blood, Brody had feared for Finn. He’d worried he might provoke Ramsgate into trying to kill him instead.
Thankfully, this was not the case.
“How did it go?” Brody asked, his hand grabbing hold of Finn’s upper arm.
“I lost, which is as it should be.” Finn angled his jaw to show off the cut he’d received. Splotches of dry blood surrounded the wound. “Lady Fiona’s reputation will be preserved. From what I gather, she will be known as the innocent lady the devilish Marquess of Losturn attempted to tarnish. Thankfully, her hero father came to her rescue and no real harm was done.”
“And there will be no additional incidents such as this in the future?” Brody asked, his voice firm.
“Correct. I believe I’ve learned my lesson.”
“About bloody time,” Brody muttered. He considered his brother and the slightly forlorn look in his eyes. “I realize you think me a hypocrite due to my own history. You believe it unfair that I spent every night out with friends for more than two years, drinking, gambling, and chasing women. And it is, but as your older brother it’s my job to guide you and keep you from making the same mistakes I made.”
“Mistakes can be educational,” Finn said with the barest hint of a smile.
“Agreed, but they can also be ruinous. Pissing away the fortune Papa spent his life protecting is shameful beyond compare. We’re both to blame, and while I’ll allow that we needed to deal with our grief, destroying what our ancestors built isn’t the answer. It has to stop.”
“You’re right, but I’ll need a different distraction then, because losing Papa was…”
Finn’s voice cracked and Brody didn’t hesitate. He pulled his brother into his arms and held him while he wept. It didn’t matter that they were standing on a London pavement for all the world to see. The only thing of importance was being there for Finn.
“How’s your guest?” Finn asked with a sniff as they pulled apart seconds later.
“She had a rough night.” They entered the house where Rhys, who’d preceded them inside, stood waiting. Brody handed over his hat and gloves and followed Finn up the stairs. “I trust you’ll be taking a nap?”
They entered the upstairs hallway. “And you’ll be checking up on Miss Michaels?”
A maid exited one of the rooms. She bobbed a quick curtsey and moved toward the servant stairs.
“Despite there being an actual Miss Michaels present,” Brody whispered, “it would be prudent of us to refer to Harriet as Mr. Michaels as long as she’s here.”
“Understood.” Finn stopped in front of his bedchamber door while Brody continued toward Harriet’s. “I’ll see you later. If you can, you ought to get some rest too. Your eyes are bloodshot.”
Brody sent his brother a backward wave and heard his door open and close. Having reached Harriet’s room, he gave the door a gentle rap. A faint response from within urged him to ease the door open. He glanced toward the bed where Harriet sat, propped against her pillows, and entered.
“I’m glad you’re awake.” He closed the door and shifted his gaze to the bedside table. A plate containing a half-eaten piece of toast sat there. “Looks like you managed to get some food down.”
She gave him a weak smile. “I tried.”
“Have you been awake long?” he asked, removing his jacket while approaching the bed.
“Just half an hour or so.”
