“Pack your things,” Brody seethed as he crossed to where Betsy still stood, “and leave. I want you gone within the hour.”
“You needn’t worry yourself about that,” Betsy told him. She raised her chin as though with defiance. “No way I’m staying here for one second longer than what I have to.”
Brody slammed the door in her face and promptly punched the wall. “Damn!”
“So much for keeping a low profile,” Harriet muttered. She bit her lip as the magnitude of their actions came tumbling down around her.
She might have proved she wasn’t a man and saved Brody from charges of sodomy. But she’d ruined her alter ego. Harry had been destroyed. He couldn’t exist when the truth was out there, ready to spread at this very second. It would only be a matter of time before Mr. Hudson found out about it. Such things would make their way to the gossip columns. Especially when a duke was involved. And now that Betsy required work, she’d probably sell the story the first chance she got.
To suppose it might be bottled up would be naïve.
“Why did you do that?” Brody demanded.
He was glaring at her from across the room, looking strangely feral but also wildly appealing. Her brain was clearly affected by the lingering effects of her fever. She wasn’t thinking clearly or she would have known to be very afraid of that angry gleam in his eyes.
Oddly enough, she was anything but.
“I couldn’t let her think you were intimately involved with a man. She’d have called the authorities on you.”
“I am a duke, Harriet. I’m fairly sure I could have discredited her somehow.”
“So you would have lied?”
“Of course not.” He was prowling toward her with menacing strides. “I would have told the truth – explained the situation for what it was.”
She raised her chin. “How is that different from what I did?”
“It just is.” His eyes were aflame when he came to a halt before her, so close she could feel the heat of his body. Breathing raggedly, he traced the side of her face with the back of his hand. When he spoke next, his voice had softened to barely a whisper. “You gave up everything for me.”
“And I would do it again, Brody.”
He held her gaze. “Why?”
Ignoring the pounding of her heart and the uncomfortable queasiness settling deep in her stomach, she told him all he needed to know. “Because I love you.”
His answering kiss was instant, unapologetic, and fierce. He kissed her as though he were starved, as if he’d been parched for a thousand years, like she was the essence of life itself – the key to his survival. It was rough and needy. His hands were everywhere, clutching and gripping, his fingertips pressing into her flesh and holding her to him.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped as he broke the kiss and buried his face in the crook of her shoulder. Breathing hard, he managed to ask, “Are you all right?”
She chuckled lightly. “I was pretty dizzy before. Now I’m—”
“God, I’m a beast.” He loosened his hold and eased her onto the edge of the bed. “Sorry, but how could I not respond as I did after what you just told me?”
She tried not to think of the fact that he hadn’t repeated the words. It wasn’t important.
Unable to speak past the sudden lump in her throat, she merely nodded.
“We will get through this. Betsy will not destroy your reputation, Harriet. I’ll save you as you saved me.”
“It’s too late for that, I should think. She’ll say what she will and the gossip will spread.”
“Most likely,” he agreed. “You will be sneered at as a result, your sister ruined by association.”
“Yes,” she whispered as tears filled her eyes. She’d sacrificed not only herself, but Lucy as well. What sort of sister did that?
“Unless you’re beyond reproach,” Brody murmured. He leaned his forehead against hers and said, “Marry me, Harriet.”
She blinked. “What?”
