He leaned forward. “As to motives, there are three basic reasons. Power, money, and …” He looked away, red creeping up his neck above his cravat.

“And?”

Daniel cleared his throat. “Suffice it to say there is a third, and it has to do with men and women, and we’ll leave it at that.”

It was Juliette’s turn to feel the heat rushing to her cheeks. She understood his meaning, but it was improper for such things to be discussed between unmarried individuals.

“Surely you can discount that as a motive in this case.” Mr. Montgomery must have been in his fifties and a widower for many years. “I would think power and money more likely.”

“You might be surprised. In any case, a detective never draws conclusions before he’s begun his investigation. Once the pieces are assembled, he may formulate theories and lines of inquiry, but until he has gathered the basics of what happened, he must keep his mind open to all possibilities.”

This sounded very much like one of her uncle Bertie’s lectures. “Are you quoting someone?”

He smiled, and her heart kicked a bit sideways. He really was a handsome man.

“I am, actually. My mentor, Mr. Beck. Ed is a great teacher, and I’ve learned much from him. I wish he were here on this case with me, but he’s been called away to Yorkshire to investigate a missing woman.”

“I didn’t realize your duties took you all over the country. I thought you worked exclusively for the Bow Street Magistrate’s Court.” The carriage rocked gently toward Eaton Square.

“Primarily, but any principality can call us in for help. Our reputation is growing throughout the country, and more and more often we’re asked to assist on tough cases.”

Which meant he could be called away at a moment’s notice, like her parents. Like she herself could be once she completed her training.

A black wreath hung on the Montgomery front door, and straw had been spread in the street to dampen the sounds of traffic going by.

A footman granted them entrance, and before he could inquire of his mistress whether she was home to callers, Agatha flew out of the drawing room in a cloud of black silk and into Juliette’s embrace.

“Oh, you came. I heard your voice, and I was so thankful. It’s been awful here alone. And I’m dreading this afternoon’s reception. I know it is something I must do, but I hate it.” Her voice was thick with tears and grief, and Juliette squeezed her tightly.