“It’s almost like you didn’t have to pay someone to hunt me down,” she said sweetly. “You could have just written to see me.”
Harry and the other men looked between Juliana and her brother like their words were a ball in a tennis match.
Snowdon’s cheeks went brick-red. “We’ll discuss this later.” He greeted the group and positioned himself next to Miss Lynn. “What did I miss?”
“The usual. Comets, the Romantics, the natural state of man.” Miss Lynn rolled her head. “I thought you said this salon was interesting, but it’s the same ideas all the time.”
“You could introduce a new topic of conversation,” Juliana said. “Something more to your liking. What topics do interest you, Miss Lynn? Where do your passions lie?”
The barest hint of a smirk crossed Snowdon’s face. His hand went behind Miss Lynn’s back, and if Brogan wasn’t very much mistaken, gave the woman a small squeeze.
“I can’t tolerate inequality,” she replied. “Watching as some are born to privilege while the rest of us struggle.” She ran her gaze up and down Juliana’s body, pausing on her neat slippers and the lace trim of her gown. “If I am subject to these passions you accuse me of, that would be where they lie.”
“A noble calling, to be sure.” Juliana stepped forward eagerly. “Have you heard of Rose’s idea to form a debate society to try to address this problem? I’ve sent him some essays with my thoughts—”
Snowdon snorted. “You and your little scribblings. Perhaps you should leave the big ideas to those more qualified, Jules.”
Juliana’s face went scarlet.
Brogan cracked the knuckles on his right hand.
“Writings and debates are all very well and good,” Miss Lynn said, “but it is action that is needed. And don’t mock your sister, Snowdon, not when she is at least trying.”
Snowdon cleared his throat. “We all must do our part. Make sure the tenants have food, and all that. Now, I need a drink. The ride over here was damned dusty. Miss Lynn, can I get you anything?”
“Alcohol can only make this meeting more interesting.” She placed her hand on Snowdon’s arm. “I’ll come with you.”
Harry scratched his chest. “We let her in here, didn’t we? I wonder what she thinks is so unfair.”
And Brogan wondered what Miss Lynn saw in Snowdon, given he was one of the aristocrats born to privilege she seemed to disdain. But you never could tell what attracted some people to others.
The heat from Juliana’s body warmed his side, and he stepped away. “Ready to go?” The salon had been useless. The only hope he had to solve this investigation was with Pickens telling them what they needed to know. Brogan didn’t want to tell his employers he was hanging his hopes on such a thin thread. How soon would they regret their decision to give an ex-boxer a chance?
“All right, let me go see if Bertie is ready to leave, too.”
Brogan trailed behind her, picking up snippets of conversation here about human nature and there about the darkness in Renaissance painting. These were Juliana’s people. Her peers. And he felt as out of place as a fish in a meadow.
“We’re leaving,” she told Bertie. “Want a ride back with us?”
“I have to go to work, and the theatre is in the opposite direction.” He shook Brogan’s hand. “I’ll get my own cab.”
Smythe slunk up beside him. “Can you afford a cab on your salary?” He tutted. “If you need a friendly loan—”
“And now seems like the perfect time to leave.” Bertie’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He gestured to the door. “After you, Jules.”
Brogan followed after them to where the butler waited. He handed them coats and hats.
Brogan looked down the hall. Smythe stood just inside the sitting room doors, talking with an unseen person and gesticulating wildly. Brogan looked back at Juliana’s friend, who had stood beside her when the chips were down.
As Brogan passed Bertie on the front steps, he said, “You’re better off.”
He handed Juliana up into his carriage. He settled across from her and turned his hat in his hands. “Your acquaintances are quite varied.”
“You thought I’d only be friends with members of the peerage?” She scooted to the side and tugged down one of the windows.
“That is what most members of the aristocracy do.” Although the men who’d started the Bond Agency weren’t like that. Brogan had felt nothing but respect from them in their treatment of him and the other investigators.
“When will you learn that I am not like most daughters of earls?”
