“Did you question that Mr. Carlyle? He and his wife called during the mourning reception, and rumors were flying the entire time. I know people thought I could not hear them, but they were wrong. My father wasn’t having assignations with his competitor’s wife, and I seriously question whether he was ever involved with Mrs. Fairchild. I haven’t heard from her today, so perhaps she has finally understood that I do not wish to have contact with her. She has shown up on my doorstep multiple days, declaring her relationship with my father, how they were nearly engaged to be married and how he intended to lavish her with gifts. I finally told the butler to say I wasn’t receiving.”

Daniel rubbed his palms on his thighs. “About Mrs. Fairchild. She will not be a nuisance any longer. She is, at this moment, in the women’s section of Newgate Prison awaiting her appearance before a magistrate.”

Agatha reached out and gripped Juliette’s hand. “Prison? What did she do? She didn’t kill my father, did she?”

“Er, no. We were able to verify her alibi for the time in question. She was arrested on an unrelated matter. It seems she has quite a gambling problem, not only in quantity but in playing by the rules. She and a partner were caught cheating at cards, and while that in itself is not terribly serious, once we interrogated her she admitted she stole the household funds from your strongbox. When you would not give in to her demands for money, she decided to steal some.”

Agatha’s jaw dropped. “She came into this house in the midst of mourning visits and stole money?” She sagged back against the upholstery. “The world is full of wicked people, isn’t it?”

Daniel nodded. He’d said much the same thing to Sir Bertrand not more than two hours ago. “Mrs. Fairchild will answer for her crimes. I assume your father’s secretary will be available to testify if necessary?”

Agatha nodded.

“I’m afraid she has already squandered the money, so there is no hope for recovery. She will be found guilty and sent to debtor’s prison.”

A tap on the door, and the footman entered. “Your pardon, Miss Montgomery. There is someone here asking for the gentleman.” He indicated Daniel. “A Mr. Wilkinson, sir. He says it is urgent.”

Irritation clawed up Daniel’s spine. He had further questions for Miss Montgomery, but he’d have to answer Owen’s summons first.

Owen stood in the housekeeper’s sitting room in the half-basement, his hat in his hands.

“What is it?” Daniel could not keep the annoyance from his tone.

“Sir Michael says you’re to go to Hammersmith at once. There’s been another murder at the blown-up mill.” He blurted out the message before Daniel was even properly through the doorway.