Daniel wasn’t nearly as certain as she, but what could he say? He had done his part in going to Kent and following up at the docks. In the end, he had not visited the solicitors. They had been particularly closed-mouthed in his every dealing with them, and he doubted they would have told him anything about the Rotherhide’s business. There was nothing else he could do.

He listened for voices or footfalls inside the mill but heard none. No watchman, no Rhynwick. The only sound was the splashing of the waterwheel outside. Perhaps the young scientist had not yet arrived.

Shrugging, fighting the weariness that pulled at his limbs and deadened his thoughts, Daniel went back through the hallway to the warehouse and out the smaller door to the walkway that gave access to the waterwheel. Though he understood the shaft had been disconnected from the gear system that turned the grinding stones, the wheel itself continued to rotate, water tipping and gurgling busily on the overshot system.

There was something soothing and fascinating about the sound of moving water, and despite his distaste for heights, Daniel leaned on the railing, closing his eyes. His bed beckoned, but he knew he would not see it before nightfall. He had too much to do today, too many leads to chase.

He should report to Sir Bertrand about Ulrich Reading’s confession and the warrant out for Jasper Finch, and he should wade through the paperwork taken from the offices here and those provided by Mifflin, Mr. Montgomery’s personal secretary.

Something tickled his brain, some shred of a reminder of something he had forgotten. It had to do with the paperwork, but what was it?

As he straightened, something hit him hard between the shoulder blades. He reached for the railing, but it was too late. His torso shot out into space, overbalancing and tipping him over the rail. He fell the ten feet to the wheel and tumbled into the churning water beneath.

Chapter 14

“YOU’RE UP EARLIER THAN I thought, given last night’s activities.” Uncle Bertie half rose from his chair in the breakfast room when Juliette entered.

She shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep.” Not only was her mind too busy, but her body ached from the pummeling she’d taken under the boots of the mob. A dull headache had stalked her in the wee hours, but thankfully that had abated. Hunger finally drove her to dress and go downstairs.

You’re lying to yourself if you blame the rally for keeping you awake. No, it was reliving Daniel Swann’s kiss that robbed you of slumber.

Mrs. Dunstan entered with a tray and set it beside Juliette. “Shall I pour?”

“I will do it. Thank you.”

The housekeeper left the room, and Juliette took the small silver pot and poured a cup of chocolate for herself.