She was soft in all the right places. A fact that was of no consequence to his purpose, but still, Brogan noticed.
Her plain face gazed up at him, mouth open wide with shock. A bit of pride unfurled in his chest, replacing his irritation. She should be surprised. It had taken some doing discovering the Lady Juliana Wickham’s location. His employers at the Bond Agency for Discreet Inquiries would be pleased. He had only worked there four months, and finding Lady Juliana was the first case he’d been assigned to as principal agent.
A fortnight to resolve an investigation seemed like an effective resolution…if his employers ignored the fact that he’d found her once before and she’d manage to slip away. The back of his neck heated.
She stumbled, and her full bosom pressed against his chest. She jerked away as though scalded, and he tightened his grip on her waist.
“I’m not…what are…” She blew out a breath, a strand of her brown hair lifting and drifting back to her cheek. “How did you find me?”
“I had a man watching Bluff Hall. He saw your letter to your father. Or should I say, Miss Butters’s letter to your father.” And he’d seen Lord Withington’s butler refuse delivery. Because it was from an unknown sender? From a chit he thought would write nothing but nonsense? If he knew Miss Butters was a friend of his missing daughter’s, wouldn’t he welcome any correspondence?
No matter. His job was to deliver Miss Juliana, not analyze her father’s correspondence habits. “Would you like to finish the waltz or are you ready to leave?”
She tried to step back, tugging at his grip. He thought about holding on, but restrained or free, she was no match for him. She would go where he wanted. Hopefully without kicking and screaming. He disliked causing a scene.
He released her, and she took a quick step back. She rubbed her arms. “Leave? Why would I leave?”
She was going to be difficult. He sighed. He’d only laid eyes on her that one night, but he’d known she was trouble right away.
The case should have been easy. A brother worried about his missing sister had hired an inquiry agency to find her. Brogan had discovered her first at the apartments of a set designer she’d befriended. From the intelligence he’d received, Lady Juliana adored the theatre, and tracking her from there had been simple.
Attempting to be kind, he’d allowed her to remain with her friend until the next morning when Brogan would deliver her home. She’d needed comforting after the attack by Mr. Pickens.
He should never attempt kindness. It wasn’t a trait he excelled at.
“An unmarried woman of your station doesn’t just flit about London without supervision. It isn’t proper.” She should know this. He reached for her arm. “Let’s go.”
She skittered away, putting the bed between them. She crossed her arms under her bosom, giving him an arch look. “Proper? You’re going to have to give me a better reason than that. In fact, if you want to discuss propriety, how proper is it for your agency to accept a commission from a lady’s brother when it is my father who is my legal guardian. If he takes no issue with my ‘flitting about,’ then my brother can’t, either.”
Brogan inhaled sharply. It was her eyes. That was how he knew she was going to be trouble. Much too assertive than a lady of her years should be.
“Your father isn’t well.” According to his peers, he hadn’t been for quite some time. After the death of his wife, he’d become disinterested in affairs of state. Taken on some queer ideas. Let his children run wild. At least so said His Grace, Duke of Montague, one of the co-founders of the Bond Agency. And the result of such poor parenting was a daughter running about London like a harridan.
“Your brother worries for you.” A fact Lord Snowdon had seemed eager to impress upon him. He most likely didn’t want his sister to embarrass the family. His reasons were his own. Brogan circled the bed. “Now, we go.”
She hopped up on the mattress, scuttling to the center. “You’ll have to carry me, kicking and screaming through the ball. Mr. Butters will stop you.”
“Mr. Butters doesn’t know you’re here.” Brogan planted his hands on his hips. He wouldn’t have to take her through the ballroom. He’d ascertained all the possible exits. The one through the kitchens would work best.
She flushed. “That is irrelevant. You can’t be such a monster that you’d abscond with an unwilling woman, taking her back to her doom.”
He glared at the ceiling. She would have to be dramatic, too. Consorting with aristocrats was going to be an annoying corollary to his new job. “You’re safest with the people who love you best. Your brother. Your father. I don’t want to argue about this.”
She picked up a pillow and held it to her belly. “Someone tried to kill my father.”
“There is no evidence of that.” More dramatics, he presumed. Perhaps it was a natural reaction for one of her kind to have after her ordeal.
His stomach hardened, remembering her cowering before her father’s secretary. The man had deserved a much worse thrashing than he’d received for attacking a woman. But what reason would he have to kill his employer? He’d admitted to being a thief, no more, and his attack on Lady Juliana had been an attempt to escape detection.
And having a passing acquaintance with the woman, Brogan could understand the impulse to throttle her.
Her brother had given him some hints of her character. An indulgent father had led to a spoiled upbringing. She looked upon her flight as some grand adventure. Even now her eyes sparkled with excitement.
He held out his hand. “Take it up with your brother.”
“Snow doesn’t see what’s happening.” She huffed. “You’re an investigator. Can’t you help me find the truth?”
“No.” If he was found indulging a chit’s delusions, he’d never hear the end of it at the Bond Agency. Although the five founders of the business never made mention of it, Brogan knew they weren’t the usual toffs. They each had backgrounds assisting the Crown in delicate operations. Word in the agency was they’d saved the prime minister’s arse on more than one occasion. Brogan wouldn’t embarrass himself in front of them, not when he had a decent job for the first time in his life.
“Lady Juliana, if you do not come—”
She struck him on the side of the head with the pillow. “I am a grown woman. This will be kidnapping.”
A grown woman wielding a pillow as a weapon? She acted more like his ten-year-old sister.
She smacked him again.
“Desist,” he gritted out through clenched teeth.
“No. Not until you—”
He snaked his hand out and grabbed the pillow. He yanked it away, causing her to fall to the mattress in front of him. He gripped her wrist and hauled her to seating. “Now, it is time—”
“Juliana!” A distressed gasp dragged his eyes to the doorway of the bedroom. Miss Butters, clutching her ruffled ballgown, gaped at them. “What are you doing with this man in my room? On my bed?”
Lady Juliana shoved his chest, and he stepped back, giving her room to climb from the bed. “I am trying to impart the seriousness of my situation to this…man.” She scowled at him. “He isn’t taking liberties. He’s trying to take my liberty.”
“Don’t worry, Miss Butters. There is absolutely nothing untoward going on here,” he hastened to add.
For some reason, that only caused Juliana’s scowl to deepen.
“Now if you will excuse us, Lady Juliana is going home.” He took her elbow, careful not to hurt her but with enough strength she wouldn’t be going anywhere but where he willed.
“How can you be so heartless?” the lady in question asked.
“Am I the heartless one?” He nodded at Miss Butters. “You’ve placed your friend in an untenable position. What do you think will happen to her if you are discovered?”
Miss Butters paled. “My mother would kill me.”
“And have you no thought for your brother?” he asked. “The man is out of his mind with worry for your safety.” Out of his mind was an exaggeration, but Brogan would take any advantage he could get. “And your father…”
Brogan sniffed. Her father didn’t seem concerned his daughter was traipsing about unsupervised. The man did have a lot to answer for in the raising of his children. “Well, if your suspicions about your father are true—”
“All right. I’ll go.” Lady Juliana pointed to a coat hanging over the back of a chair. “But we have to leave unnoticed. I won’t have Hyacinth in trouble for aiding me.”
He released her to fetch the coat.
“Thanks, Juliana.” Miss Butters blew out a breath, her shoulders sagging. “Of course, you’re welcome to stay as long as you need, but…”
“But it would be easier if I left.” Lady Juliana gave her friend a smile. “You’ve done more than I have any right to expect. I can’t thank you enough, Hy.”
Miss Butters hustled over and gave her friend a kiss on the cheek. “Take care of yourself.”
Lady Juliana gave her one more smile before leading Brogan from the room.
He guided them to a back staircase. “She doesn’t know of your suspicions.”
“That someone is trying to kill my father?” She slid into her coat and buttoned it. “No. Hyacinth is very sweet, and very simple. She wouldn’t understand.”
“Plus, if you convinced her there was a killer afoot, she might not have allowed you to stay in her room.” No girl was that daft.
Lady Juliana sniffed. “She’s a friend. Of course, she would have let me stay.” She turned left at the bottom of the steps, and Brogan took her arm and guided her right.
“Friendship doesn’t extend that far,” he muttered.
She waited as he peered around the corner of the hallway. “You clearly don’t have any true friends if you believe that.”
He grunted. This discussion was pointless. He led her toward the kitchen, heard the sounds of a party from within, and switched direction. He found the door to the side garden and pushed it open.
Her feet planted themselves in the entryway, and he practically carried her across the threshold. He gritted his teeth. “Lady Juliana—”
“Is that the problem? Do you have so little care for my safety because I have a title in front of my name?” She planted her hands on her hips. “You wouldn’t be the first person I’ve met who despises those of a different rank.” A yellow cat circled about her ankles, and she bent to pick the beast up.
The back of his neck prickled. What was she on about? It was the aristos who looked down on his kind, considering them inferior in birth and taste. Was she trying to act the victim with her title? “Your rank has nothing to do with it. This is my job. I only receive payment if I complete it. And I was only pointing out how unladylike you’re acting.”
He ran his gaze over her. “You don’t even look like a Lady Juliana.” Other women of her class wore their fancy clothes like armor, starched and adorned to meet standards only they cared about. Those women wouldn’t look him in the eye as Lady Juliana did. Wouldn’t deign to argue with someone such as he. If Brogan hadn’t recognized the quality of the silk of her gown, he would be hard pressed to think of her as the daughter of an earl.
Lady Juliana looked…touchable.
She looked away, her shimmering eyes catching the moonlight. “Very well, if it’s money you care about, I can pay you. To not return me to Bluff Hall. To investigate who is trying to kill my father.”
Brogan scraped his palm across his jaw. She didn’t give up.
He relented. Somewhat. “When we arrive at your home, I’ll speak with your brother again. I’ll impress your concerns upon him. You will be safe.” And hopefully he could do so in a manner that wouldn’t anger the viscount to such a degree he’d leave a bad reference with Brogan’s employers.
Juliana buried her face in the cat’s fur. “That’s a kind offer for you. And I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He took a step closer. “Though you did lead me on a merry chase, this is my job, after all.”
She laughed. “That wasn’t what I was apologizing for.”
He frowned. “Then what?” It wasn’t her fault she was irritating, not really. She’d been given free rein her whole life. She’d—
A mass of fur and claws flew at his face.
“Gah!” He caught the cat as it scratched at his throat. It hissed, completely ungrateful that Brogan hadn’t just batted the beast aside. “Lady Juliana,” he thundered, “you…”
A shimmer of blue silk swished around the corner of the house.
“Son of a bitch.” He dropped the cat and ran after the infuriating chit. When he hit the front of the house, he paused, chest heaving.
She was gone.
He turned a circle. Carriages lined the street, awaiting their ball-goers return. A hansom cab slowly wheeled out of sight. A driver tossed his cheroot to the ground.
But no infuriating young lady met his eye.
He clenched his hand. He’d told Wilberforce, the manager of the Bond agency, he’d have her tonight. That he should expect payment from Lord Snowdon in the morning. And now he was returning to the office empty-handed.
Again.
He cracked his knuckles.
When he did find her, he was going to wring Lady Juliana’s neck.