The butler opened a door and shuffled inside, but Juliana paused at the entrance.
The blood drained from her face. “I don't know if I can do this,” she whispered.
Brogan smiled sadly. She didn't know it, but she could do just about anything. All she needed was a little push. He placed his palm on her back and guided her inside.
They had been announced, so the four men were already on their feet. The two older men were her father and who Brogan supposed was Rodger Rose. The sight of Snowdon, smirking at his sister, sent fire racing through Brogan’s veins. But it was the fourth man that halted his steps.
Juliana hissed in a breath at the sight of her brother. Snowdon murmured something to their father then laughed.
How much had the bastard poisoned the well against Juliana? Seeing that Snowdon had beaten them here was a punch to the gut, but perhaps it was for the best. It was better to see the snake than wonder where it was.
The larger problem for Brogan was the fourth man. He was a veritable giant, someone Brogan had only seen once, but not a man to forget. Was he friends with Snowdon? And if so, why hadn’t Brogan been informed?
“Juliana,” her father said. “What a delightful surprise. What on earth are you doing here?”
She took a step forward, swayed. But she stayed on her feet. “I came to speak to you, Father.” She stared at Snowdon. “It's most urgent.”
Her father hurried forwards and took her hands. He looked nearly as wobbly as his daughter, with tiny beads of sweat dotting his forehead. “What is it, child? Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she said, “I'm not the one in trouble.” She spoke to her father, but her gaze remained on her brother. Betrayal was visible in every line of her body.
She shook herself and squeezed her father’s hand. “But how are you?” Her eyebrows drew together. “You look flushed.”
He waved his hand. “I’m fine. Just a bit under the weather today. Now what did you need to speak to me about?”
“How rude we are,” Snowdon interrupted loudly. “Lord Dunkeld, Rose, this is Mr. Duffy and my sister, Lady Juliana Wickham. Rose, you,of course, already know Lady Juliana. Duffy, Jules, this is the Marquess of Dunkeld. With such inspired company, perhaps we should waituntil later for any family discussions.”
The enormous man, Dunkeld, hooked a thumb in the pocket of his tartan-patterned waistcoat. He nodded at them and gave Juliana a curious look. He must have felt the uneasiness of the newcomers. The man’s body tensed as though preparing for a fight.
Which wasn’t a surprise from what Brogan had heard about him. The marquess was someone even a professional boxer would be leery of facing in a ring.
“This is quite the coincidence,” Snowdon continued. “Dunkeld, do you know, Mr. Duffy? He does work for you after all.”
“Is that right?” Dunkeld stepped forward, hand outstretched. His faint Scottish burr warmed his voice.
They shook. “Yes, sir. I'm an investigator with the Bond Agency.” And the Marquess of Dunkeld was one of its five owners. What Brogan did now, in front of the man, could establish his position…or end it.
“Is this visit for pleasure?” his employer asked.
“No.” Brogan’s heart beat sluggishly. “We're here on business.”
Snowdon snorted. “This is the man I hired to find my sister. And find her he did. And now the two seemed joined at the hip. A bit unconventional, don’t you think, Jules? Even for you.”
Dunkeld narrowed his eyes. He cut his gaze over Juliana’s family, and Brogan could see the gears turning in his head.
“While this is all delightfully interesting,” Rose said, “my gout is acting up, and I need to sit. Come join us,” he said to Juliana and Brogan as he eased himself down in his chair and plopped his leg onto an ottoman. He leaned an brass-handled cane against his chair.
Juliana walked stiffly to the open space next to her brother on a settee. Brogan grabbed a chair by the wall and set it next to her. He wished he could wedge it between her and Snowdon. The man’s very presence tainted the air. Juliana shouldn’t be subjected to his nearness.
“I was just speaking to your father about you, Lady Juliana.” Rose picked up a cheroot and took a puff. “I read the essay you sent me on poverty alleviation programs. The writing needs a bit of work, but the underlying arguments are interesting. There might be a spot for you in my debate society after all.”
She rubbed her temple. “That’s nice?”
Her father chortled. “Nice? You’ve been blathering on about wanting to go on tour with Rose for a year.” He flapped his hand in the air, trying to dispel the cheroot smoke, his mouth twisting. “Here’s your chance.”
Rose tapped his ash into a bowl. “Now Withington, I didn’t say it was guaranteed. I’d want to see some more of her work before it’s settled. But that shouldn’t be a problem for such an accomplished young woman, should it?”
Juliana opened her mouth, but no sound emerged.
