JULIETTE HAD NEVER BEEN TO a funeral before. The Thorndikes had little extended family, and her grandparents had passed away before she was born. Uncle Bertie had instructed her that it was rare for women to attend funerals, and under no circumstances was she to show any emotion. A stoic appearance was required for all in the congregation.

The service at St. George’s in Hanover Square was fittingly somber. Agatha’s face was veiled in black, her dress seeming to absorb all color. There were some distant cousins of the Montgomery family present, but Agatha was the principal mourner. Because their engagement was not yet public, Lord Darby did not sit beside her, instead finding a place a few rows back. All alone, Agatha appeared fragile, and Juliette’s heart ached for her friend. At the same time, she was proud of her for adhering to the expectation that she would remain composed.

Juliette sat with Uncle Bertie on the aisle, where they had an excellent view of the catafalque and black-draped coffin. Agatha had insisted upon white flowers everywhere, and the heady scent mixed with grief nearly choked Juliette.

Bertie shifted his long legs, straightening the seams on his black trousers. He looked as elegant and stylish as ever. And his dark eyes never stayed still for long.

Juliette tried to concentrate on the sermon, but she was distracted. For the first time in her life she had carried a weapon into church. Though this time the pistol was securely strapped to her leg with no chance of coming unstuck, she was acutely aware of it. What did God think of her bringing such a thing into a house of worship?

The reverend droned on, and her mind wandered to her parents. Were they safe in France? Were they obtaining the information they sought? Were they attending parties and meeting people who would be good contacts for the future?

Did they miss her at all?

As they rose for the recessional, Juliette bent to pick up her reticule and prayer book. From the corner of her eye, she spied Jasper Finch, the man who had been so outspoken about laborers’ rights at the Venetian breakfast.

Why was he here? He had been so cutting in his opinion of men like Mr. Montgomery, it seemed odd he would attend the man’s funeral. His opinions about violence as a solution came back to her, and she shuddered.

Organ music rose to fill the barrel-vaulted space, and Bertie bent to her ear. “Now we must endure the interminable luncheon.”

The guests exited row by row, and as the widow Mrs. Fairchild passed, she was supported by a younger man. She trembled and held her handkerchief to her face, but she maintained her composure. Even in her grief she was startlingly beautiful.

Who was the man with her? A relative? Or had she sought to replace Mr. Montgomery so quickly?

Juliette shoved away that thought as unworthy.