A report. What should she say? She could give her impressions of the event, the way Mr. Finch had roused the crowd to a fever pitch. And she would have to explain how she escaped the building.

But she wouldn’t have to mention the kiss, would she?

“There is also a missive from your parents. They will be home soon, perhaps by the end of the month.” He tossed a folded paper her way. “The Prince Regent is a fickle fellow, as always. Send them out, drag them back. He wants them to attend him when he goes to Brighton after the Easter holiday. Forget that he sent them on a diplomatic mission. He wants them in his entourage on the coast.” Bertie shrugged. “I fear he will be no less unstable when he becomes king.”

Joy flashed through her at the thought of her parents returning. “Will I be able to accompany them to Brighton?” Pray it was so. She had been given so little time with them since returning home. She read the letter, confirming all that Bertie had said. Home at the end of the month and then time spent in Brighton.

Mr. Pultney entered the breakfast room, a silver tray in his hand. “A caller for Lady Juliette.” He offered the tray, and she took the card.

A caller, at this hour?

She looked at Uncle Bertie, then back at the card. “It’s Duke Heinrich.”

Surprise hit his features. “Is something amiss? Why would he call upon you? And at daybreak?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“Should I tell him milady is not receiving?” Mr. Pultney asked.

Her abdominal muscles tightened. Something must be very wrong for him to come at this hour. Juliette looked at Uncle Bertie. “Will you join me?”

“I have to attend to a small matter first. Go ahead and see him. Leave the door to the drawing room open. That will be chaperone enough until I greet the duke.”

She supposed no harm would come to her reputation by spending a few moments alone with Heinrich. She had spent far more time alone with Daniel.

Daniel. Just the thought of his name brought forth the memory of his kiss, of his protectiveness, of him.

How did she feel about him? He was handsome, kind, brave, competent, intelligent … Every time they were together, she felt … alive. Colors seemed brighter, sounds sharper. When she was with him, she was more aware of him—and of herself—than when with any other person.

She must stop thinking of Daniel Swann. It would be impolite to Heinrich to be daydreaming when she greeted him.

Heinrich waited in a chair before the fireplace and rose smartly when she entered. His hair was crisply combed and his uniform scrupulously clean. The gleam off his boots could blind someone. But rather than looking into her eyes with his customary friendly smile, he stared over her shoulder.