Caught in the explosion of the Hammersmith Mill in London, Bow Street runner Daniel Swann rushes to help any survivors only to find the mill's owner dead of an apparent gunshot--but no sign of the killer.
Even though the owner's daughter, Agatha Montgomery, mourns his death, she may be the only one. It seems there are more than a few people with motive for murder. But Daniel can't take this investigation slow and steady. Instead, he must dig through all the suspects as quickly as he can because the clock is ticking until his mysterious patronage--and his job as a runner--comes to an abrupt and painful end. It seems to Daniel that, like his earthly father, his heavenly Father has abandoned him. Lady Juliette Thorndike is Agatha's bosom friend and has the inside knowledge of the wealthy London ton to be invaluable to Daniel. She should be in a perfect position to help with the case. But when her trusted instructor in the art of spy craft orders her to stay out of the investigation, Lady Juliette obeys. That is, until circumstances intervene, and she drops right into the middle of the deadly pursuit.
When a dreadful accident ends in another death on the mill floor, Daniel discovers a connection to his murder case--and to his own secret past. Now he and Juliette are in a race to find the killer before his time runs out.
The dowager was one of those ladies who was quite content to have observers rather than participants in any conversation she held. Juliette smothered a smile and nodded, which was all the encouragement the dowager needed to continue.
Juliette’s fingers approached the butt of the gun again through her pale-pink gown. She drew in a breath and pushed.
She let out a cough she hoped would disguise the impact. But rather than thudding to the floor, the weapon didn’t budge. A tug pulled along the back of her thigh. She was sitting on the strap she had used to bind the holster to her leg.
Botheration. She couldn’t move it up, and she couldn’t move it down. At least she no longer needed to worry about the gun crashing to the floor before she was ready, but then again, she had no way of stopping it from doing so when she was forced to rise. She shoved again, just to make sure she couldn’t move the thing without being obvious, but she bumped the dowager’s elbow slightly.
“What are you doing?” The dowager pinned her with a stare. “You’re jerking as if you’ve contracted Saint Vitus’ dance. Sit still, child.”
Juliette stopped wriggling, the pistol just inches from where she could secure it. “I am sorry.” Her words were forced through a clenched-teeth smile. Uncle Bertie glanced her way, and she wanted to melt into the floor. He missed nothing, and somehow, she knew he was aware of her exact predicament. He raised his brows in a mocking query, a smile touching his lips, and she glared at him. He was enjoying her discomfiture altogether too much.
Mr. Pultney, the family butler, unwittingly came to her rescue by appearing at the drawing room door. “Breakfast is served.”
The guests deposited their small plates on the nearest flat surfaces and drifted toward the hall. Juliette remained seated even when the Duke of Haverly came over to assist his mother to her feet.
“Lady Juliette, you’re looking quite fetching today.” The duke, hand- some and well-built, smoothed his long hair back into the queue at his nape.
Juliette always felt safer when the Duke of Haverly was about. He was not only capable and intelligent, but he was now the director of the agency, her parents’ and Bertie’s supervisor. And he had a lovely wife, Charlotte, who was also at the party and with whom he was clearly besotted.
“Are you enjoying your debut Season?” he asked.
“Yes, Your Grace, especially since my parents were able to rejoin me here in London.”
The dowager adjusted the lace at her cuffs and leaned on her cane. “So unfortunate they had to be away when you arrived home from finishing school. Still, there it is. Noblesse oblige. When the needs of the estate call, one must go.” She looked down at Juliette, her gray curls clustered beside her cheeks. “Aren’t you coming?”
“Please, go ahead. I’ll just be a moment.”
The dowager sniffed. “Waiting for someone special to escort you? Of course, you are. Come, Marcus.” She put her hand through her son’s arm, a calculating gleam in her eyes. “These girls today. So canny.”
Heat charged into Juliette’s cheeks as the duke, leading his mother away, glanced over his shoulder. The dowager thought she was setting her cap for someone in particular? Looking for an escort?
As if she would. This was her year of freedom, of enjoying herself and not worrying about flirting with men or finding a husband. And at the moment, her only concern was getting a gun out of her skirts.
The moment both Haverly backs were turned, Juliette raised her leg, dislodged the strap holding the holster, and let it fall to the carpet with a soft thump.
“Lady Juliette.”
Her chin jerked up. Duke Heinrich.
Frantically searching with her slipper, she found the pistol and slid it across the carpet, nudging it beneath the settee, hoping her hem hid the movement. She barely avoided puffing her cheeks out in a huge sigh as she disguised the weapon.
“Duke Heinrich, I hope you are enjoying yourself?”
“Very much. Your mother has given permission for me to take you into the dining room.” Duke Heinrich offered his hand.
Behind him, near the door, Juliette’s parents, the Earl and Countess of Thorndike, waited arm in arm, clearly as besotted as the Duke of Haverly and his wife, though they had been married years longer. A warmth that held a hint of longing surrounded Juliette’s heart.
Juliette took the duke’s hand, rising and smoothing her skirts. She
felt behind her with her foot once more to ensure the gun was out of sight, then rested her fingers on his arm. “Thank you, sir.”
As they entered the hall, a footman opened the front door, allowing a brisk breeze to scurry into the room. Juliette turned, and her breath caught.
Don’t be ridiculous. You knew he was invited today. And for pity’s sake, don’t blush. He’ll think you a silly chit.
Though she scolded herself, she felt a thrill race along her collar- bones. Ever since they had worked together last month, first at odds and then so closely in the matter of the stolen artwork, Mr. Daniel Swann had never been far from her thoughts.
Which was absurd. He was a detective and a colleague, but she was a lady of the ton. There were expectations she must fulfill. Not that she was a snob. Of course not. It was just that while their professional lives might intersect, their personal lives lay far apart.
None of which kept her from acknowledging that Daniel Swann was a fine-looking man. He dressed very well in clothes a dandy would envy, while keen intelligence shone from his eyes, intriguing and unsettling her.
He had played a significant role in rescuing her from kidnappers too. Brave and daring. She would not be human if such heroism didn’t attract her attention.
Duke Heinrich paused to greet the detective. “Herr Swann, you are joining us today?”
Juliette couldn’t tell if the duke was pleased or surprised or both. It was unusual to have someone of Daniel’s stripe as an invited guest at a society gathering, but then again, her parents were known for bringing eclectic groups together.
“Or is it that there is something amiss? A crime perhaps?” The duke smiled as if jesting, but questions lingered in his pale-blue eyes.
“Your Grace.” Daniel nodded. “Lady Juliette.” He bowed, handing his cloak and hat to the footman. “I have been invited by the earl and countess. A thank-you, I believe, for services rendered.”
“Well deserved.” The duke’s hand tightened over Juliette’s on his arm. “Not only at the return of all that stolen artwork, but when those men kidnapped Lady Juliette . . .” He shook his head. “You were most brave in recovering her, and I thank you sincerely.”
Daniel’s eyes darted from the duke to Juliette, and his brows came down. Juliette flushed. Did Daniel, too, hear the proprietary tone in the duke’s voice?
Agatha Montgomery, Juliette’s best friend, hurried toward them from the dining room. “Jules, I’ve been hoping for a moment alone with you—” She skidded to a halt, blinking. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t realize you were busy.” Shifting her weight, she twisted her fingers together, biting her lip.
Juliette could not ignore her imploring look. Clearly, she had some- thing of import to share, though with Agatha, everything was important and nothing trivial. At least it would give Juliette an excuse to escape Duke Heinrich’s attentions for a moment—and Daniel’s presence too—until she could compose herself properly.
“Gentlemen, if you will excuse us?” She stepped back. “Agatha, perhaps we can move into the salon?”
(Chapter 1, pages 11 - 15)
“An artfully told story that will have you wondering at the outcome until the final pages are read.” —Ruth Logan Herne, USA Today best-selling author
“…a fully satisfying mystery. I can’t wait to read the next one!” —Jocelyn Green, Christy Award–winning author of Drawn by the Current
“I am sure fans of the first book in this series will revel in the deepening relationship between Daniel Swann and Juliette Thorndike.” —Alissa Baxter, author of The Viscount’s Lady Novelist
“Millstone of Doubt captivated me from the first sentence and kept me guessing the entire novel…Erica Vetsch is the master of all things Regency.” —Lorri Dudley, author of The Duke’s Refuge
“5 Stars. Millstone of Doubt is a compelling Regency mystery with plenty of romance. Michelle Griep fans (or any Regency fan in general) will love this novel.”— Jennifer Purcell, ChristianBooks.com
