Miss Lynn rolled her eyes.
“Not that you don't have many other fine attributes,” Snow quickly added. “Your mind is as sharp as a razor.”
“No need to go overboard,” Miss Lynn said. She turned her attention back to Juliana. “Well, what do you say? Will you at least broach the subject with your father? This one,” she gave Snowdon a look, “seems to have no influence with the man.”
Most likely because their father knew Snow had never had an interest in politics before, and a suggestion now would be curious, to say the least.
She watched as her brother fed Miss Lynn another grape. A small shiver worked its way down Juliana’s spine. Juliana wondered that her brother seemed happy to act the acolyte. He was much different with this woman than he was at home.
Brogan’s arm brushed against hers, and she leaned into him.
She supposed she acted differently with her lovers, as well.
Jacob chuckled. “The impotent viscount. You sure do know how to pick ‘em, sister.”
Snowdon straightened. “My father and I no longer see eye to eye on a great many things, but I will try again. That's what's best for the people of England, of course.”
Juliana barely bit back her response.When have you ever cared about what was best for the people of England?His new friends might be having a benevolent effect on her brother. She might not agree with the policies he wanted, but caring about the hardships of those in the world around him was a solid first step in becoming the man she wanted him to be.
And one day, he would be earl. Be a member of Parliament, be able to effect change. Make a difference. While she…
Her stomach twisted.
While she attended lectures, salons, discussions. She learned as much as she could, but what did she actually accomplish? What good was she to the world? She swallowed. It wasn’t Snow’s fault he had been born the son. That he had a path to be of service. It was only to the good that he finally became serious about his responsibilities.
But jealousy gnawed at her. Along with the fear that she would remain useless throughout her life.
“Have you heard from our father lately?” Juliana asked, proud that her swirling emotions weren’t revealed in her steady voice. “Is he still at Rose’s house?”
“Yes.” Snowdon sat on the edge of the settee, swinging his leg. “You know how he loves the plum puddings Rose’s cook makes. I swear, he'll come back a stone heavier.”
Juliana’s lips curled up. She remember that cook, as well, and hoped her father enjoyed every bite.
“Plum pudding?” Miss Lynn sat up. “That does sound good. Anyone else want Snowdon to pop down to the tea room for a little snack? Get us some pastries and breads, will you?”
The artist put in an order for currant cake. Her brother demanded a sandwich.
Snowdon nodded. “I'll just show you out as I go down, shall I, Jules?”
Nodding, she and Brogan followed her brother down the steps and out onto the street.
She adjusted the brim of her hat to block the sun’s rays. “Think about what I said, will you Snow? Tell Father to stay where he is for a while more until this gets sorted out. With Mr. Pickens dying—"
“Pickens tried to steal from father. He tried to hurt you. Now he's dead. I see nothing bad in this.”
Juliana’s shoulders slumped. Unless something was staring him right in the face, her brother would never see it. “All right, Snow. Take care.” She rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek.
He hurried inside the shop without a backward glance.
Juliana blew out a breath. “My brother…”
“Is an idiot.” Brogan cupped her elbow and led her to the carriage.
She settled her skirts on the bench and sat. “He’s not an idiot. And his new friends seem to have an improving effect upon him. He never used to care about the working man.”
Brogan leaned into the corner of his carriage and stretched out his leg so his boot rested next to her hip. “You think that was him caring about the little man? He only cares about acceptance from his peer group.”
Juliana frowned. “That is too harsh. And even if true, why does he want to be accepted by that particular group? He could seek acceptance with his stuffy club members at White’s. No, his befriending such reform-minded people can only be for the good.”
