Her mother was exquisite, her black hair coiffed in the latest style and her dress as fashionable as tomorrow. Crystals glittered along the neckline of her blue gown, catching the light and winking. She leaned in to hear something the duke said and then she laughed, causing heads to turn.

The duke’s military dress, complete with sash and medals, made him noticeable in the group, as did his carefully parted blond hair. Juliette had met him only last month at her debut ball, but they had attended several functions together, and she had found him courteous and interesting. He was a favorite of hostesses throughout the ton and had accepted many invitations.

His gaze met hers, and he inclined his head. He’d paid considerable attention to her recently, and the look in his eyes now was intent and ardent. Her throat closed a fraction, and she looked away. His interest flattered but she didn’t take it seriously. They barely knew each other, and rumor had it he would return to Germany soon. And hadn’t she promised herself that during this, her first Season out in London society, she would not succumb to the attentions of any man? She wished only to reacquaint herself with her parents and find her way in her post-boarding-school life.

Not to mention assimilating everything she’d learned about her family and her history over the last few weeks and embarking on this new journey as a fledgling agent for the Crown.

Praying her face did not give away her discomfiture—both at the duke’s interest and at the fact she still had not secured the infernal pistol—she walked her fingers along her leg. To her horror, she brushed the butt of the gun, inching it toward the edge of the settee. She stiffened, yanking her hand back for fear of sending it over.

But might that be the best course of action? The settee rested atop a thick Axminster carpet. If she could ease the gun over the edge, perhaps she could cough to cover the thump it would make and then kick it under the sofa to retrieve later.

The dowager prattled on, oblivious to Juliette’s plight. “I am ready for this chilly weather to break. I’m anticipating a trip to the seashore to visit my daughter, the Countess of Rothwell, this spring, and I hate to travel in the cold. It’s bad enough coming down from Oxfordshire for the Season in the dead of winter, but to have the frost linger this far into the spring is unbearable.”

The dowager was one of those ladies who was quite content to have observers rather than participants in any conversation she held. Juliette smothered a smile and nodded, which was all the encouragement the dowager needed to continue.

Juliette’s fingers approached the butt of the gun again through her pale-pink gown. She drew in a breath and pushed.