Which was what he wanted. He dug his knuckle into his breastbone. So why did he feel like a right bounder?
“That’s it,” he said.
She laughed, the sound high, unsteady, and false. “So, we’ll carry on as before, having a diverting liaison until the case ends.”
“No.” He was done dying by a thousand cuts, one small lash a day. It was time to cut this off, once and for all. “We will only have a professional relationship from now on.”
“What?” She clasped a hand to her stomach, her voice rising. “We don’t need to do that. We can go back to the way we were before.”
“In life, you can’t go back.” Something else her privileged upbringing hadn’t taught her. In this instance, he didn’t relish being her instructor. He sighed. “You’ll thank me for this later.”
She curled against the wall of the carriage. “I’ll thank you to take me to Hyacinth’s now. Don’t expect thanks for anything else.”
“As you wish.” He called the directions to the driver.
He stared out the window, watching as the dark streets of London rolled past. He would have to get used to this darkness. With Juliana out of his bed, his days, any light that had brightened his life was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Juliana tossed the volume of poetry on the seat beside her. Even Rodger Rose’s melodic words weren't enough to soothe her depressed spirits.
“Is something the matter?” Hyacinth asked, looking up from her needle work. “You've been as fidgety as a cat all day.”
“I'm fine.” Juliana slouched back on the settee.
Hyacinth ‘hmmed’ and cast her gaze back to her work.
Juliana was thankful her friend didn't press further. She knew she was being a poor companion to Hy, knew that ever since her fight with Brogan she hadn’t been able to muster up the will to be pleasant or interesting.
Hy thought it her public fight with Brogan that caused her ennui. Even though Juliana trusted her with the truth, she couldn't bring herself to expose her deepest feelings, even to her closest friend.
She stared out the window, wondering which agent had been assigned to watch over her today. She knew one of the Bond Agency investigators lurked about the grounds and surrounding streets.
She also knew it wasn't Brogan.
Mr. Verity, the agent protecting her that first day, had told her Brogan hadn't volunteered for the duty.
She plucked up the book again, tapping her thumb on its spine, and tossed it back down. “I'm going for a turn about your gardens,” she told Hy. “Do you want to come?”
Without looking up, Hyacinth said, “It looks like rain. I think I'll stay inside.”
Juliana nodded and stood. She passed Mr. Butters’s office on her way to the rear door and waved to him at his desk. It was much more pleasant staying at the Butters’s house as an invited guest. She shook her head. All the subterfuge and secrecy of before felt a bit foolish now.
She’d almost made it outside when the butler found her.
“Lady Juliana, you have a caller.” He tugged on his lapels. “Your brother's here to see you.”
“Snowdon?” She chewed on her lip. She and Snow had much to discuss, but it wouldn’t be a comfortable conversation. She’d thought about Brogan’s suspicions, about how Snow’s friends could be using him, and come to the conclusion that he might be right.
She hated to admit that a man who had his head up his rear end on so many other issues could be correct in this one, but there it was.
She blew out her cheeks. And delaying an uncomfortable conversation did no one any favors. “Can you show him to the folly?”
The butler nodded and hurried away.
Juliana slipped outside the back door and made her way to the mock Roman temple. The folly seemed out of place in a London townhouse garden, but the Butters enjoyed its frivolity, one of the reasons why Juliana liked the family so much.
She sat on one of the stone benches beneath the portico and arranged her skirts—and her thoughts. Her brother didn't take well to being shown he was wrong. She had to approach this carefully. Try to make him come to the conclusions himself.
