The smell of the river mingled with the smell of grain, and even from this distance the thumping and bumping of machinery said the mill was in production. The narrow lane between the houses, which led down to the mill, was currently blocked by a wagon piled high with sacks of grain. That explained why the driver hadn’t stopped closer to the mill before decanting his passengers.

The mill stood sentinel above the houses, a stone tower with a hefty presence to it. Like a mother hen with chicks gathered near, the dwellings huddled around the base of the mill. How long had it stood here, grinding grain into flour, feeding England one wagonload at a time? A hundred years? Two?

And if what the anarchist Jasper Finch said was true, it was due for an overhaul and refitting to bring it into this modern age.

Lady Juliette emerged from the carriage and took Daniel’s waiting hand, her shoe peeping from beneath her skirts to find the iron step. A buzz of bees’ wings under his skin began the moment her fingers made contact with his, and he took a fortifying breath. She was so proper and beautiful, yet beneath the facade, he also knew her to be brave and determined. A heady combination.

The instant her foot hit the cobbles, a flash of light, followed by a whump, rocketed down the narrow lane, and the world exploded.

Chapter 2

DANIEL OPENED HIS EYES, HIS head throbbing. His body felt pulped, as if he’d been trampled by a herd of Highland cattle. Something bit into his cheek as he lay sprawled on the cobbles, and he tasted the coppery tang of blood.

Sprawled on the cobbles? Why was he on the ground? Had he fallen? His thoughts scattered and fragmented, refusing to organize.

He blinked hard, wincing against the throbbing inside his skull. Had someone hit him?

Drawing in his arms and planting his palms on the rough stones, he pushed himself away from the ground, pausing on hands and knees to ease the dizziness swirling behind his eyes. To his left, a horse lay on its side, kicking and struggling, tangled in the harness like a fly in a web. The animal’s mouth was open, but no sound came out—or at least no sound that could be heard above the ringing in Daniel’s head. He straightened to his knees and pressed his palms to his temples.

What happened? He tried to draw a deep breath, but dust and smoke choked him, and he gagged, coughing, doing an agony to his head. He staggered to his feet. Rocks and rubble littered the small courtyard.

A man stumbled by, eyes wide, face streaked with blood and dirt. His head and shoulders were covered with white powder.

Daniel turned a slow circle, unsure of where he was, until his eyes lit on the carriage with the Earl of Thorndike’s crest on the black door.