“I applaud your attempt at trying to muddle my mind, but I know what I saw, Mr. Michaels. You in his arms, intertwined like a pair of lovers.”
“You’re right,” said Harriet. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and took a deep breath.
“You don’t have to do this,” Brody informed her while giving her shoulder a gentle touch of his hand.
“Of course I do. It’s the only way to stop this mess I’ve created from hurting you further.” She planted her feet on the floor and pushed herself upright, using the edge of the bed to hold herself steady. “My name is not Mr. Michaels.”
Betsy snorted. “Your name hardly signifies, sir. It’s your gender that’s the problem.”
“Agreed. Which is why you should also know that I’m not the man you believe me to be. I’m a woman.”
Betsy’s jaw dropped. She gaped at Harriet for a second before collecting herself and saying, “I don’t believe you. If you were a woman I’d have noticed. Everyone would have.”
“Look closer,” Harriet told her. “I swear to you upon the soul of my mother that I am in earnest.”
Betsy firmed her mouth and gave Harriet a dubious look before glancing at Brody.
“Go ahead,” he encouraged.
Looking much like she was about to get burned, Betsy stepped nearer and peered at Harriet’s face. “I’m sorry, but you could be either or as far as I’m concerned.”
Brody, who’d also gotten out of bed, sighed with what sounded like pure frustration. “She’s a woman, Betsy. I assure you.”
“And I think you’re both trying to trick me in order to save your hides.”
“Betsy, you’ve seen me with countless women before,” Brody argued. “I had a mistress for years.”
Not something Harriet cared to envision. An ugly emotion twisted inside her, attempting to clutch at her heart.
“True,” Betsy agreed, “but maybe that was the ruse, to prevent the world from figuring out what your true nature really is.”
“Oh, for the love of all that’s holy,” Harriet hissed as she pulled up her nightgown. “There. Do you believe me now?”
“Um…” Betsy backed away a few steps. She glanced at Brody, who was presently pinching the bridge of his nose while muttering something incoherent. Betsy’s gaze returned to Harriet. “How… I mean why…”
“I did it for work-related reasons,” Harriet explained. She pulled her nightgown back down.
“I see.” Betsy frowned. “So you’re to be his new mistress?”
“No,” Brody said, his voice clipped.
Betsy blinked. “I don’t understand. What else can she be?”
“I’m merely a friend,” Harriet tried. “His Grace was kind enough to help me and my sister, that’s all.”
“And it looks like you gave what he asked for in return,” Betsy remarked. “There’s a name for that, you know.”
“Don’t,” Brody warned.
“It’s called whoring, my dear.”
“Get out,” Brody told her before raising his voice to a roar. “Get out of my house this instant!”
Betsy stumbled backward. “You’re mad. And to think I had such high respect for your poor parents.”
“How dare you bring them into this?” Brody asked.
Betsy retreated to the hallway. “They’d be ashamed of how low you’ve fallen.”
