Brogan’s chest burned. She was finally getting the recognition she wanted, the opportunity she craved. And she couldn’t feel pride in her accomplishment because of her fuckwit brother. “It won’t be a problem. Lady Juliana has many good ideas.”
She frowned at him. “I’ll do my best,” she finally said. “Father, can we—”
“How long are you planning on staying?” Snowdon asked her. “Father and I are returning to Bluff Hall in two days. You should join us. It will give you time to write something that will really impress Rose.”
“Why wait?” Rose shifted his leg and grimaced. “With the people I have staying here now, I’m sure ideas will be gushing from Lady Juliana like water from a geyser.”
“Who all is here?” Brogan sat at the edge of his chair. The more guests, the harder it would be to keep track of Withington, to keep him safe. That’s if they weren’t ejected from Rose’s house after Juliana told her story.
“Us, Dunkeld’s lovely wife.” He nodded at the Scotsman. “She has become one of our most engaging speakers on natural sciences.”
“She enjoys your meetings whenever we’re in Town,” Dunkeld agreed. “My wife is quite the woman of science. She’s increased our harvest four times over since she’s moved to Kenmore Castle.” Pride spilled from the man’s words.
“Anyone else?” Brogan asked.
“What?” Rose rubbed his leg. “Oh, yes, that self-assured young woman who joined us about a year ago. A Miss…” His face cleared. “Ah, here she is now, along with the marchioness.” He nodded to the door, and Brogan turned.
Miss Lynn and a tall, sturdy woman entered the room, each carrying a book in her hand.
“Did you find my greenhouse to your liking?” Rose asked the marchioness.
“Lovely.” The woman crossed to her husband and pecked his cheek. “Though I did give your gardener some advice on soil additives. I hope you don’t mind.”
“What’s she doing here,” Juliana hissed at her brother as she glared at Miss Lynn.
Rose started. “I received a note that Miss Lynn was in town, so of course I extended an invitation. You know I have an open-door policy for my salon members.”
“Of course.” Juliana’s breathing increased, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Father, I really must sp—”
“Miss Lynn, there is room for you here.” Snowdon scooted over and patted the space between himself and Juliana. The look he shot his sister was too smug by half, and Brogan fisted his hands, wanting to knock the pompousness right out of him. Juliana practically sat on the armrest of the settee to put as much distance between herself and Miss Lynn as she could.
Dunkeld glanced at Brogan’s fists and arched an eyebrow. Brogan forced himself to relax. Miss Lynn appeared to be an intimate of the marquess’s wife. How would the man take accusations against her character? All the other investigators said their employers were fair men, but none of them had accused one of the owner’s friends of criminal acts. And this owner had a known temper. Perhaps his fairness had a breaking point.
Snowdon laced his fingers together and rested his hands over his belly. “There now, isn’t this nice? A cozy gathering of intimates. Isn’t this better than running off on your own, Juliana? Being surrounded by family and friends? I do hope you’ll give up the queer ideas that have taken hold of you lately and rejoin the family. You should—”
Juliana leapt from her seat. “Shut up, Snow, you swag-bellied maggot pie!”
The room froze. Even Brogan stopped breathing. Those insults were minor by a man’s standards, but coming from his usually composed Juliana, shocking nevertheless. Her face was red and her limbs shook with rage. If ever there was a person who had been pushed too far, Juliana was an exact portrait of her.
He stood, ignoring the impropriety, and cupped her shoulder, pulling her into his side. “Take deep breaths,” he murmured into her ear. “In and out. There you go.”
She relaxed fractionally under his hands. Her face remained red, though whether purely from anger or if embarrassment was now added to the mix, Brogan didn’t know.
“Juliana.” Withington struggled to his feet, his face grey. “What is the meaning of this? Get hold of yourself, girl.”
“I apologize, Father. Mr. Rose.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “But I have something I need to tell you. About…” Her gaze flicked to Snow.
His jaw was clenched and his eyes narrowed to slits. Miss Lynn sat beside him looking as unconcerned as an angel before heaven’s gate.
Withington raked his hand through his hair. “While family matters should usually be conducted privately, you’ve publicly insulted your brother. It is only fair to him for you to say your piece here.”
Dunkeld stood and subtly placed his wife behind him. He nodded to Brogan. “Perhaps we should go outside. Have our own talk as they have theirs.”
“I’m not leaving Juliana’s side.”
Withington’s eyes flew wide at Brogan’s use of his daughter’s first name.
Dunkeld’s face went grim.
