It was so tempting.Shewas that tempting. With her soft skin and glistening eyes. Her set shoulders and determined airs. He enjoyed the feel of her body against his for one more moment, then stepped back, putting distance between them.
“Go to bed.” He strode to the main exit and pulled a desk in front of the door. There’d be no sneaking off while he got some sleep. He dropped into his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and gave the vixen one last glare. Dipping his chin, he closed his eyes.
Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. His first case was at a close. It had a successful resolution. He should be happy.
He slitted his eyes open, watching as Lady Juliana lay down with her back to him, her shoulders hard under the blanket.
Why the hell wasn’t he feeling happy?
Chapter Seven
Brogan gave Lady Juliana’s elbow a slight tug, drawing her over the threshold of Bluff Hall. The infernal woman hadn’t said one word to him all six hours of the drive to her home, although he was becoming quite adept at reading her glares.
The squinty-eyed glare was for when she was particularly irritated with one of his suggestions. The glare with the arched right eyebrow expressed just how inferior the inn he’d taken her to for nuncheon had been. And the glare accompanied by a small huff showed when she clearly thought him an idiot.
As frustrating as all those glares had been, he rather wished she would turn one on him now. The slight shudder that wracked her body as she stood in the entry was most disconcerting. Reasonable or not, Lady Juliana’s fear was real.
“Jules!” Her brother hurried forwards, arms outstretched. “Finally, you’re here. I’m glad I decided to quit London yesterday so I am able to greet you.”
She lifted her cheek for his kiss even as she ground her jaw. “Snow. After yesterday’s disagreement, I’m surprised you are happy to see me.”
Snowdon flapped his hand. “A trifling soon forgotten. Although I should be angry for all the trouble you put me through. But now that you’re back you can have a talk with Mrs. Bailey. I keep telling her I don’t want my potatoes creamed. I want them mashed. She doesn’t listen to me.” The viscount turned to Brogan. “Do you take your payment now? I can draft a bank note.”
Brogan removed his hat and finger-combed his hair back. “Yes, now is good. But there is something else I need speak to you about.”
“Of course.” Looping his arm through his sister’s, Snowdon turned and led the way down a corridor.
Bluff Hall was a comfortable home. Far grander than any house Brogan had ever lived in, but nothing to the magnificence of Lord Summerset’s or the Duke of Montague’s homes. He’d been sent on errands for those owners of the Bond Agency, and their houses had made him near speechless. The furniture here, in comparison, was comfortably worn; the floors scuffed. While far from a pauper, Lord Withington’s estate was modest compared to most in the ton.
Snowdon pushed a door open into a sun-filled room. “Have a seat in my office and we can discuss what you will.”
Juliana jerked her arm free. “You mean father’s office. Where is he?”
“Gone this morning with Rodger Rose up to his home for a month or so.” Her brother dropped in the chair behind the cluttered desk. “Rose travelled to Bluff Hall with me yesterday.”
“Mr. Rose is a family friend,” Juliana explained to Brogan. “He lives in Leeds.” She turned to Snow. “I’m glad. Father should be safe there.”
“Oh, bother.” The viscount rolled his eyes. “Not that nonsense again. No one is trying to harm Father. I for one can’t wait for him to return. He’s left me with a bothersome amount of business to manage.” He poked at a stack of correspondence. “It’s dreadfully dull.”
Brogan settled in the chair across from Snowdon. “Why don’t you think your father could be in danger? His secretary is in prison for attacking your sister.”
Snowdon smiled tightly. “Jules, I know cook is baking some of those buns you like as I just stole one myself. Why don’t you go get one? It will give you a chance to talk to her about my potatoes.”
“Meaning you want me out of the room for this discussion.” She shifted her weight between her feet. “Because I’m hungry, I’ll allow it.”
She wouldn’t be hungry if she’d eaten her nuncheon. Apparently, a ploughman’s lunch wasn’t good enough for her. Still, it was with some regret that he watched her stalk from the room. Even with her quirks, she was the pleasanter of the siblings.
He turned back to face her brother. The man scratched at the soft pouch of skin beneath his chin then examined whatever had come off on his nail.
And far easier to look at.
“Your sister has raised concerns about her safety. What are you doing to address them?”
“Address them?” Snowdon blinked. “Why should I address them? They are naught but flights of fancy on her part. She always was the romantic. Father never should have let her read her gothic novels.”
“Have you questioned your servants? Found out if the secretary, Pickens, had any accomplices?”
The viscount sighed. “Pickens was a greedy, little man who got what was coming to him. The rest of our servants were horrified that not only would he steal from us, but then go after Jules to silence her. I can assure you, there are no other traitors here.”
