Snowdon and Lynn watched with a glee more appropriate for spectators at a scandalous play.
Rose frowned, a deep divot forming in his forehead. “I won’t have nonsense in my house, or my salon. We gather to discuss high ideas, not gossip and use base language.”
Juliana squeezed her hands together. “I do apologize. But I must speak to my father. And if he won’t speak with me alone…”
Then she would make a fool of herself in front of her idol. Ruin her chances for her spot in his debate society. Her one chance to make a difference in the world, or so she thought.
Brogan’s stomach hardened. He couldn’t let her do it. If her father wouldn’t make it easier on his daughter by removing himself for a private conversation, Brogan would remove him with his own bare hands.
Perhaps he should have remained a boxer. His first instinct was always to use his hands. He shot a glance at his employer. Soon, Dunkeld would realize the mistake he and his partners had made hiring an ex-bruiser.
His spine straightened. But there was nothing for it. His job, no matter what Juliana had paid the agency for, had been to protect her. And he wanted to protect more than just her life. He wanted to protect her future, as well.
“Lord Withington,” Brogan said, “we will be retiring to a private room for your conversation with your daughter.”
“See here, Duffy,” Snowdon began.
Miss Lynn patted his arm. “Not now. Can’t you see your father is distressed?” She rose and hurried to the man. “I’m sure your daughter’s behavior has come as quite a shock, although those of us who’ve spent time with her recently have seen she must be suffering from an attack of nerves. But you have been away and missed her alteration. Let me get you a drink to help calm you.”
Withington placed his hand on the back of a chair and leaned against it. “I don’t feel well. A drink won’t sit right.”
“I know something special for upset stomachs.” Lynn gave his arm one last pat before hurrying to the sideboard.
“I believe Juliana needs to rest, Father.” Snowdon bore down on his sister. “She’s been allowed too much free rein to traipse about unattended and the stress is getting to her.” He reached for her arm, and Juliana jerked away.
“How did I never truly see you before?” she asked. “How have I lived with such a snake and never known?”
“Juliana.” Her father’s voice was sharp. “What are you saying? What could he have possibly done to deserve such censure?”
“Here you are, Lord Withington.” Miss Lynn sashayed up, carefully holding the over-full glass. “This should set you right up.”
Without looking at her, Withington reached for the glass. He wiped his forehead with his other hand.
Brogan eyed the drink, watched as Miss Lynn’s lips tilted upward as he raised the glass, observed the man’s pallor, his sweaty brow.
He reached for the glass, intending to grab it away, but Withington pulled back at the same time, splashing the liquid over his waistcoat and trousers.
“Good lord, man!” Withington shook the wet from his hand. “What do you think you’re doing? What is going on here?”
“I apologize for my investigator.” Dunkeld’s brows drew down. “I presume he has a good reason for his actions here today.”
Juliana gave one last longing look at Rose then squared her shoulders. “They’re trying to kill you, Father. Snow and Miss Lynn. I know it sounds mad, but Snow admitted it to me in London when he tried to force me to Bluff Hall. He wants to be earl. He doesn't want to wait.”
Withington loosed a disbelieving chuckle. “Is this a jest of some sort? How can you say such a thing?”
“Really, Lady Juliana.” Rose scowled. “There’s no call for this nonsense in my home. No call at all.”
She lifted her chin. “I say it because it's true. All those accidents, all those little mishaps that could have cost your life. He was behind that. He and his”—she glared at Miss Lynn—“friends.”
Miss Lynn pressed her fingers to the base of her throat. “Her mind has truly broken. Lord Snowdon, you must see to your sister. She deserves good care. Don't be too harsh on her. It's not her fault if her mind is diseased.”
“There's nothing wrong with Juliana’s mind,” Brogan growled. Oh, the woman was good. He could see how she had insinuated her way into Snowdon’s life. Wrapped her claws into his mind. But the hint of playfulness that lingered in Miss Lynn’s eyes gave her away. It also made Brogan question how serious she was about her revolutionary ideas. Was this a game to her or was she in earnest?
She was willing to kill to achieve her ends, but he bet that she had kept her hands clean, that she'd made Snowdon do all the dirty work.
Juliana took her father's hand and held it tight. “I know this is unbelievable. That this is the last thing you'd ever want to hear. But I'm not sick. I'm not lying. He admitted to this as he pulled out a pistol to kidnap me. And then he raced up here to get to you first. Please, Father.” She pressed his hand to her heart. “Please, you must believe me. Your life depends on it.”
Withington swung his head back and forth. His eyes were glossy, his mouth slack. “But what you’re saying…” he mumbled. “It’s monstrous. It would mean that your mother and I have produced a monster. It can't be.”
