As soon as he stepped through the drawing room doorway, Mary Rose pounced. “Brody, you have got to let me in on the joke. Did you lose a bet or something?”
She clung to him, eyes bright with childish malice. He resisted the urge to shake her off. “I would have lost my life if it wasn’t for Angelica. She rescued me after my crash, and kept me safe until I could go for help.” His sister blinked up at him, blankly. She didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. “My car crash—surely you remember. I was in hospital…the Bentley ruined…”
She shrugged, and he rolled his eyes.
“Never mind. Just know that I owe her my life.”
Mother frowned, picking at Clarence’s fur from where Angelica had mussed it. “Surely, you can’t owe her that much. I don’t see how a blind girl could save anyone, when she cannot even cross the room by herself.”
“She’s quite capable, I assure you.”
Brody looked to Marcus, waiting for him to toss his opinion into the ring. His brother was the only one who knew the truth. The only one to visit him in that grim hospital, to watch him sweat and shake as the morphine ripped its way out of his system. He had told him about her—when he was well enough to speak. Marcus was the only one who understood how much Angelica meant to him.
His brother shrugged, a whiskey glass poised at his mouth. “If Brody likes her…”
“Oh, what does Brody know about anything?” Mary Rose asked, laughing. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with a girl.”
“Exactly!” Brody argued. “If I like her enough to bring her here, she’s obviously very important to me. And I’d appreciate it if you made an effort to make her feel welcome. She’s nervous enough as it is without you lot bearing down on her!”
Mother looked up from the dog. “Your temper, Broderick. Please! I don’t know why you suddenly seem to care so much about everything. I thought we were well past your days of angry outbursts and tantrums. Have you been seeing your doctor? God knows we pay enough for him…”
Now that he’d actually begun to feel things again, he could no longer stagger around in a morphiated euphoria, happy to ignore the world around him. The old Brody wouldn’t have stirred if the house fell in on top of him, but, clear-headed, he sat up and took notice. Sadly, he did not always like what he saw.
“I’m not going back to that damned doctor,” he argued. “I’m better now.”
Mother eyed him. He did look better—no longer sallow and sunken. His hair had thickened, and his skin glowed. He ate, slept, and showered regularly. No one could deny that he’d made a remarkable turnaround these last few months. Couldn’t she be happy for him?
Couldn’t she, of all people, understand why?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
She fidgeted as the maid fussed with her skirts. Brody had barged his way into her room, not caring that the maid would be shocked, and the entire household scandalized. He sat on her bed in his own evening clothes, chatting happily to distract Angelica from the process of being washed, dressed, and styled.
The maid, of course, was happy to do it. She would earn a little extra for her troubles, and perhaps even the opportunity to advance her situation. Angelica would need a lady’s maid. She’d never be able to manage the elaborate frocks, jewels, and hairstyles necessary to fit in with his world. Having someone see her turned out properly would benefit everyone involved.
Tonight, she’d selected a dinner gown of shiny black satin. He was fast learning that black was her color of choice. It suited her, with her inky hair and pale skin, making her sea glass eyes shine even more blue. He’d never seen her in evening dress. Brody wanted to drop to his knees and worship her.
Instead, he dismissed the maid.
Angelica pulled at the sash of her dress, which hung low on her hips. “Did you send her to watch me in my bath? I don’t fall every time, you know. Just because I can’t see someone in the room with me, doesn’t mean I don’t value my privacy.”
“She was merely doing her job.”
“I don’t need a handler.”
Brody sat back on his elbows, which was damned hard to do, starched, pressed, and stuffed into a dinner jacket. “Most ladies keep personal servants. Didn’t your mother have a lady’s maid?”
“Well, yes. But my mother was a married lady…”
“All the same, I’d like the girl to look after you—at least while you’re here. It will make things so much easier.”
Angelica hung her head. “What if she doesn’t want to work for a woman living in sin? Just because we don’t care about it, doesn’t mean she won’t. Other people have morals, Brody.”