His resolve began to crumble, just the tiniest bit. “Even if I were fool enough to agree to this,” he grumbled, “I still cannot go. I have nothing to wear to such an event.”
She arched an eyebrow. “That is your excuse?” She looked him up and down, shaking her head. “What you're wearing now is fine. You might not be in the highest fashion, but that matters naught.”
Highest fashion? Brogan wasn't inanyfashion. A fact that mattered to him less than the latest needlepoint stitch. Unless he was seen by Juliana’s side. He didn't wish to embarrass her.
“What would we tell people?” he argued. “I'm not a family member to chaperone you. An unmarried woman cannot show up with afriend.” He put emphasis on the last word. He had been so quick to describe Juliana as such before, but it now left a bitter taste in his mouth. “I suppose I can accompany you as a bodyguard.” His lack of fashion sense would hardly matter in that case.
But the whispers that would erupt from such an announcement, that Lady Juliana needed a protector, well, he didn't suppose that was something she wanted to face.
“Splendid.” She clapped her hands together. “Then that's what we'll do.”
His shoulders sagged. When would he learn? She never gave him the expected answer. It was one of her best features, and one of her most irritating.
She eyed him critically. “But if you don’t want to stand out, perhaps we could improve your wardrobe, just a bit. I don’t suppose you have a top hat?”
He snorted. “Never been needed.”
“Your coat and trousers are fine.” She tapped her lip with her finger. “Perhaps a jauntier cravat. Something in silk.”
He fingered his cotton neckcloth and leveled her with a withering stare.
Juliana called out to Cyrus Verity, the agent at the next desk. “Do you have a top hat and cravat Brogan could borrow?”
The investigator burst out laughing. “Brogan Duffy, spruced up? This I have to see. Oy, Hurst,” he called to another agent, “do you have a top hat for Duffy? The taller the better.”
Brogan groaned. He would not live this down.
Wil stepped out of the back office. Catching Brogan’s attention, he waved him over.
Brogan was only too happy to escape to speak to the manager.
He left Juliana discussing waistcoats and men’s shoes with his fellow investigators.
“I don't have new information about the investigation,” Brogan began. He leaned his shoulder against the door jamb to Wil’s office. He kept watch over Juliana, not liking how every male eye seemed fixed in her direction. He didn’t blame the arseholes. When she laughed, she seemed lit up from within.
He trusted the other men, but only to a point. Juliana was a very alluring woman.
Another burst of merriment had Brogan narrowing his eyes. Hurst was telling the story of Lord Dunkeld tossing a former agent onto the street…via a window. It had happened before Brogan’s employment at the agency, but Brogan had oft heard this account. It was spoken as a warning not to try the patience of that one particular owner. But he’d never heard it told with the exaggerated gestures and playacting that Hurst was putting into it now.
He cracked the knuckles of his right hand. He’d have to watch that one. Too familiar by half with Juliana.
Keeping his eyes on the scene across the room, he said, “I want to look into her brother again. His acquaintances give me cause for concern. But in case I'm wrong, a visit back to Bluff Hall might be in order. I might get more out of the servants without Snowdon in residence.”
“Good,” Wil said. “But that's not why I wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh?” Brogan turned to face him.
“What's going on with her?” Wil jerked his head towards Juliana.
Brogan slowly straightened. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.” Wil dipped his chin. “I have eyes. Anyone can see that there's something going on between you two.”
Brogan’s chest burned.Anyoneshould mind their own damn business.
But the hell of it was, his relationship with Juliana was Wil’s business. Brogan had crossed every professional boundary there was. He knew it. He hated himself for it.
And he’d do it again.
