Juliana read the lines again.
It will be better for the investigation if I conduct it myself. I will notify you of any developments.
She pressed her fingers against her lips, ignoring the heat behind her eyes. She could still feel his kiss. Still imagine his taste. Last night had been amazing.
And then he’d run like a scared little boy.
She tossed her spoon into her porridge. If anyone should be angry, it should be her. He had no call to cut ties. He was the one in the wrong.
She pushed from the breakfast table, her knees not quite steady. Well, she was almost entirely certain Brogan was the one in the wrong. He wasn’t right about her enjoying this investigation. Her father was in danger, for pity’s sake. It would take some kind of monster to enjoy that.
She paced the small but neatly appointed room. Like everything else owned by the Bond Agency, it was tasteful, expensive, and understated. Brogan was the only part of the agency that lacked taste. He was the fly in the ointment. She’d gotten the bad apple in the barrel. Perhaps she should ask for another detective. One who would treat her with respect. One who would appreciate her insights.
One who wouldn’t challenge her on her lies.
Her shoulders slumped. She’d tossed and turned all night, not because she was angry at the gall of the man. She’d slept fitfully because he’d been right.
Partially.
She did enjoy the investigation. It was thrilling. A challenge. A bit like a puzzle but with high stakes. If it wasn’t someone she cared about in danger, the employment would be just about perfect. It was exciting, important work, something someone in her position had little claim to.
“You finished then?” Mrs. Forster bustled in and began clearing the table. “It’s a bit drizzly today. Be sure to bundle up and take your umbrella when Mr. Duffy comes for you.”
Her throat went thick, and she cleared it. “Mr. Duffy isn’t coming today. He felt his investigation would proceed apace if he did it alone.”
Mrs. Forster balanced three bowls along her arm. “Well, I’m sure he knows what he’s about. All the boys at the agency do. I’ll make a fire in the sitting room, and you and I can enjoy a nice cup of tea. I have some knitting needles if you’d care to keep busy.”
Yes, staying in and knitting would be what most would expect of her. The daughter of an earl, she wasn’t expected to provide value above that. Even her father, who was generous enough to provide her with the same education as her brother, had never expected her to actuallydoanything of import. Be anything. Nothing but become a more interesting conversationalist for her future husband.
Mrs. Forster was a kind woman, but the idea of a day stuck indoors while someone else investigated her claims was unbearable.
“Thank you, but I’m still going out.” She turned and called over her shoulder, “I’ll be back for supper. I think.”
She made quick work donning her overcoat and gloves, picked an aubergine-colored umbrella from the large vase by the front door, and hurried outside before she could change her mind.
She had no plan, no idea how to conduct an investigation, but what she lacked in knowledge she made up for in determination.
She picked a direction and started walking.
Only to spin about when an idea struck her.
She wasn’t completely untaught in how to conduct an investigation. Brogan had shown her just yesterday how he went about questioning suspects. And she knew one other place where she might learn more about Mr. Pickens.
She hailed a hansom cab. “Take me to the Hardmeat Employment Agency, please.” She blushed as she said it. The owner had such an unfortunate surname, poor man. Hyacinth hadn’t been able to stop laughing after Juliana had explained the innuendo to her.
The driver leaned down. He spit something Juliana didn’t want to identify onto the dirt. “What street?”
Her mind blanked. The agency was one her father had used for years to hire his staff, but she’d never actually gone there. She tried to recall the address from her father’s letters but nothing came. “I don’t know. What street are most employment agencies on?”
He rolled his eyes and heaved a large sigh. “Hold on.” Sitting back up, he slapped the reins, urging the horse into a slow walk. He waved down another cab. “Ho. You know where a Hardcock—”
“Hardmeat!” Her cheeks flamed hotter.
“Hardmeat Employment Agency is at?” He jerked a finger in her direction. “This one wants to go but don’t know the directions.”
“Never heard of it,” the new cabbie said. He waved at another. “Mike! You heard of Hardmeat Employment?”
Juliana settled back into her seat, wanting to cover her face in her hands. Two more cabbies were drawn into the discussion, and finally, a location was discovered.
