Brogan needed this investigation to end to preserve his own sanity. He put the finishing touches on his day’s report and shoved the paper into the corner of his desk. He laced his fingers together and placed them behind his head. “Anything the matter?” he asked when Juliana’s lips pursed.
“Nothing.” She put down that letter and went for another. “Just a ball I was invited to. I didn't want to go in any case.”
He remembered Juliana dancing by herself in her friend’s room when he’d found her. She enjoyed such frolics. She deserved to have fun, deserved to get her life back.
Even though it wouldn't include him.
He sat up straight and put his pen and inkwell away.
It shouldn’t include him. Juliana might think she wanted him now. After all, she'd made herself quite comfortable in his little apartments, taken to cooking them dinners, even darned a pair of his socks.
He’d pretended he didn’t see the unevenness of her stitching, eaten everything she’d served even as he breathed through his mouth so he couldn't actually taste the food. She was trying everything in her power to show him they weren’t as unsuited as he believed. And he loved her for it, even knowing how futile her efforts were.
They were too different. She would have to sacrifice too much to be with him. He was resolved to let her go as soon as the investigation ended.
It didn’t help his resolve that they fucked like animals every night. The way she shuddered when he slid deep was like a blow from a chisel to his willpower. The jokes she told to make him smile when they lay sweat-slicked in bed after their crises were another blow. She was like a damned sculptor, chipping away at him all day long.
It was enough to make a man want to believe that their lives could suit, that she could content herself to live in relative squalor.
But he knew better. The lack of her usual comforts would gnaw on her, dimming her spark day by day until she looked at him with resentment. If Juliana didn't marry a nobleman, she should at least partner with a man who was her intellectual equal. Someone who enjoyed going to those damn salons. Who could match her fact for fact in talking about the planets, about philosophy.
Brogan wasn't that man. He rubbed at the ache in his chest. He needed their affair to end, and soon, if he wanted to remain whole at the end of it.
Juliana’s eyes flew wide. She quickly sliced open the next letter. “This is from my father.”
Her eyes flicked over the lines. “He says he's returning to London in a month's time.” She bit her lip. “We will have found our suspect by then, right? We must.”
Brogan stood, his legs twitching with the need for motion. He walked back and forth. “At the rate I'm going, I don't think I'll ever find the perpetrator,” he admitted. “I’ve learned nothing new this past week. Nothing to indicate who paid Pickens. Nothing at Bluff Hall to think something is amiss.” He blew out a breath. “I believe that someone is after your father, but I'm damned if I can prove it.”
She sagged back in her chair, draping her arms over the sides. “We must do something.”
Agent Verity at the next desk over snickered. “It's tough using your head instead of your fists, eh, Duffy?”
Brogan flexed his hands. The agents all teased each other. He knew it was meant in good fun, but still he wanted to throttle the man. Mainly because he was right.
Brogan was more comfortable beating answers from someone instead of investigating. He thought about his fights, thought about the broken ribs, the blows to the head he’d taken. Boxing might have been where he’d excelled, but he didn't want to return to that life. He needed to start using his head, for Juliana’s sake, if not for his.
He dug a bit of wood from his pocket and tossed it from hand to hand. The kernel of an idea formed. Even in the boxing ring, he had needed to employ some strategy. One didn’t win purely from brute force. One of his tactics had been to lure his opponent in, make him think Brogan was tired so he would draw in close.
Then Brogan would snap the trap around him.
“Your father will be here in a month?” he asked.
Juliana nodded. “Only a month left.” She sighed.
A vise wrapped around his ribs. A month. It seemed like forever when he needed her out of his home, out of his life, in order to find peace again.
The fading sun caught her dark hair, making it glint auburn.
And a month also seemed like no time at all. Not when he knew he would no longer see her again at the end of it.
He hardened his shoulders. “I have an idea. It will require your father's cooperation, but if we can get him to go about on errands alone, to places that would tempt our assailant to strike, then I think we can lure his enemy out into the open.”
Juliana jerked up straight. “You want to use my father as bait?”
He nodded.
“No.” She narrowed her eyes. “The risk is too great.”
