So Carlyle didn’t have his office in the gristmill. At least they could get away from this infernal noise. As they returned to the sunshine, Owen smacked at his clothes. Even in such a short time, they were coated with flour dust. “Dunno how they stand it. The noise and the dust and the hard labor,” he said as they made their way up the hill away from the river.

The buildings on the high street were stair-stepped, each beginning a few feet lower than the one farther along. An apothecary, a printshop, a bakery, and finally, the offices of Carlyle Mill.

Daniel stopped in surprise halfway across the outer office. A young lady sat behind a tall desk, her head bent over a ledger. She had light-brown hair and an ink smudge on her cheek. Her lashes fanned upward to reveal green eyes.

He jerked off his hat and elbowed Owen to do the same.

“Good morning, gentlemen.”

“Good morning.” Owen blurted out the greeting before Daniel could form the words. “We’re detectives from London. Here to see Mr. Carlyle, if you please.”

Daniel wanted to roll his eyes. The young jackanapes was trying to impress the lady, but he sounded pompous to Daniel’s ears.

The green eyes widened. “Detectives? Is Mr. Carlyle in trouble?”

Stepping in front of Owen to remind him to keep his mouth shut, Daniel shook his head. “No. We have a few questions regarding the death of someone he knew. Would you inform him we are here, please?” Daniel withdrew his card and placed it on the slanted desktop.

She took it, read the name, and leaned to the side. “Do you also have a card, sir?”

Owen patted his pockets, adopting a frown. “I must have left them in my other coat. My apologies. Owen Wilkinson is my name. And what would yours be?”

“Miss Carlyle.”

“Miss?” he asked.

“That’s correct. My father owns the mill.” She waved in the direction of the river as she slid off her tall stool. She wore black sleeve protectors up to her elbows, and she had a pencil stuck into her updrawn hair. “I’ll see if he wishes to receive callers.”

Not if he was in the office, not if he had time, but if he wanted to see them.

She disappeared through a frosted-glass door, and the minute she was out of sight, Owen let out a low whistle.

“Control yourself. You act as if you had never seen a pretty woman before.”

“Never one prettier than that.”

“Remember the part about you being seen but not heard?” Daniel shook his head, and this time he did roll his eyes. “Left your card in your ‘other jacket.’ You’re lucky I didn’t knock that nonsense into a cocked hat in front of the lady.”

Owen shrugged and jammed his hands into his trouser pockets. “I’ll have a card someday, when I am a detective.”