She did feel a bit badly about tricking Wilberforce. He seemed a kind man. Too kind, however. He wouldn’t want a woman to involve herself in danger, so the subterfuge had been necessary.
“Now, you couldn’t have spoken with Pickens so quickly,” she said. “Why are you leaving?”
“The prison is closed to visitors today.”
She eyed the gray monstrosity. It squatted like a toad over the London streets. “Closed?” They would have to return on the morrow, when Brogan would be prepared for her stratagems. Her shoulders rounded.
Brogan ran a hand up the back of his neck. “Pickens sent a note. He’s ready to talk.”
She bounced on her toes. “That’s wonderful. Can I see it?” She held out her hand.
He sighed. “It says nothing but he wants to talk.” But still, he handed over the letter so she could read it with her own eyes.
“I was right. Someone paid him to attack my father. He’s going to tell us who is behind the plot.” By tomorrow, the threat to her father’s life, and hers, would be over.
By tomorrow, she might never have a reason to see Mr. Brogan Duffy ever again.
Her excitement drained away.
“Perhaps,” Brogan said. “Or he might tell us to jump in the Thames. We’ll see.”
She nodded. “Shall we visit my father’s former friend, Sir Thomas, in the meantime? I’ll only have to send a note to Hyacinth. She’ll know where he lives.”
“I’ll go.” He cupped her elbow and lifted her into the carriage. “You’ll return to the offices.”
Juliana settled on the seat opposite him. “Hmm.” She tapped her bottom lip. “I don’t believe a Mr. Brogan Duffy will gain admittance into the home of a baronet, not without me.” She kept her voice light, but his words had been like a lash to her skin.
He couldn’t wait to be rid of her. Well, tomorrow, his wish would most likely come true. Good for him.
“Besides.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “When did you decide to make prisoners of your clients?”
Hands on his knees, he leant forwards. “Since I met you.”
They stared at each other, neither speaking. She tried her best to ignore the scent of sandalwood soap wafting off his skin. The way his blue eyes darkened to navy when filled with emotion. The crooked ridge of his nose that begged her fingertip to trace its curve.
He slouched back. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. For now.”
The victory didn’t elate her as it should.
After receiving the direction to Sir Thomas Miles’s townhouse, along with an invitation to a musical evening at Hy’s home the next night, they set off. The baronet lived in a smart section of town, one occupied by nouveau rich merchants and the fashionable set. Whatever investment had gone poorly with her father, it couldn’t have affected Sir Thomas’s wealth overmuch.
The townhouse was three stories high, made of a gleaming dark stone, and had an entrance even Prinny would have been proud of.
Unfortunately, it didn’t hold Sir Thomas. He was at his offices off Bond Street, the butler told them. Another silent carriage ride, and finally they were in the baronet’s presence.
“Little Lady Juliana.” Sir Thomas took both her hands and held them wide, looking her up and down. “Is it truly you?”
She laughed. Something about the man’s rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes allowed her to do nothing else. “Not so little any longer, but yes, it’s me.” She made the necessary introductions.
Sir Thomas pointed to the chairs in front of his desk. “Sit, sit, and tell me what this lovely visit is all about.”
“Did you hear about Lord Withington’s troubles with his secretary?” Brogan asked.
The older man’s face clouded. “Yes. Nasty business. And what the scoundrel did to you?” He nodded at Juliana. “Attacking a woman? He should hang. I thought about writing to your father…”
Juliana scooted to the edge of her chair. “You and my father were good friends.”
“The best.” A smile curved Sir Thomas’s lips. “You and your brother used to call me Uncle Thomas.”
