Owen Wilkinson, hands thrust into the pockets of his coat and his collar turned up against the night air, strolled by. “Quiet night. Why did Lord and Lady Erskine want protection? Not that I mind the extra pay.” They had been tasked with circling the house in opposite directions, watching for any trouble or sight of anyone trying to break into the house.

“They’re still twitchy about all the valuables being stolen during social events last month. At least, that’s what Sir Michael said when he gave us the assignment.” Daniel blew on his hands. Nearly April, and still frosty. Would this winter never end?

“But you caught that fellow. That case was closed a month ago.” Owen stomped his feet, his cheeks red and his eyes watery.

And he had, with the help of Juliette, Sir Bertrand, and the Thorndikes.

He stared through the water-streaked window at the blurred images inside, and when Heinrich kissed Juliette, Daniel’s nails dug into his palms. He barely felt the pain.

For too long, secrets had been kept, secrets that would have changed his entire life, and in this moment he couldn’t bear it. He could not hold this secret a moment longer.

He turned and marched toward the Erskine’s front door.

“Where are you going?” Owen called after him. “Aren’t we going to do another circuit of the house?”

Daniel ignored the lad, his mind focused. A footman met him at the door.

“What do you want? Is there trouble?”

“I must get inside. I have a message for one of the guests.” Which was true.

“Who? I’ll take it to him.” The footman held out his hand.

“It’s not written. I have to deliver it in person.”

“I can’t let you barge into the ballroom.” He stared at Daniel as if he had rocks where his brains should be. “Look at you.”

Glancing down, Daniel took in his boots, breeches, and cloak. A truncheon stuck out of his waistband, and though the footman couldn’t know it, he also had a knife in his boot and a pistol at the small of his back.

Short of shoving past the man and causing a scene, there was little Daniel could do. “Please, would you bring Lady Juliette Thorndike to a private room where I may deliver my message? Tell her Mr. Daniel Swann would like to speak with her.”

The footman frowned, considering the request. “You may wait in the receiving room.” He indicated a door to the left. “I will see if the lady is willing to meet you.”

The wait was interminable, and he changed his mind about the wisdom of his actions at least a few dozen times, but each time he returned to the desire for the truth to be known. What if she refused to come? What if she was so busy with the duke she didn’t care what a simple detective might want?