The young man, who must be at least twenty, though he looked younger, reddened, bowed, and stammered. “Hon … honored.”

Juliette took his offered hand and tried to encourage him with a smile, but that seemed to fluster him more. He looked everywhere but at her face, and his was so ruddy he appeared near bursting into flames. The first dance was a four in hand, and if he didn’t compose himself, it would be disastrous.

The musicians began, and the dancers took their places in the lines. Mr. Stevenson bore a look of utter concentration that did not bode well for her. If he must think so hard about the steps …

But when the movement started, it was Juliette who felt chagrin. He was precise and light on his feet, elegant in every movement, far distant from his awkwardness of earlier. As she loved to dance and knew herself to be quite good at it, she gave herself over to the pleasure of the moment, mirroring his movements, taking his fingers when required, keeping her steps fluid and graceful, as she had been taught.

When they reached the end of the line and turned to promenade, her eyes met Daniel Swann’s. The surprise was like an impact to her knees, and she stumbled to a halt, causing a gentleman to bump into her.

Gathering her wits, she resumed the movement, but she couldn’t regain her grace. Why was Daniel at Almack’s? Was there another crime to investigate? But he was dressed in fine gentleman’s attire, identical to the other male guests. Did that mean he was here to dance and socialize? A policeman? Smelling salts would be required if his occupation became widely known.

Her thoughts swirled and bounced on the subject of Daniel. Then she saw the girl.

An odd feeling whipped through Juliette, hollow but sharp.

The young lady had her hand on Daniel’s arm, and he bent with a smile to listen to something she said. Juliette turned to watch them as she and Stevenson marched around the corner, and she nearly collided with another couple.

Get your wits about you, girl. You’re making a cake of yourself. Purposefully, she focused on her partner, trying to put the image out of her head. Whatever Daniel Swann was doing was no concern of hers. She wasn’t here to observe him. Robert Sewell was her target. Listen, observe, report.

And don’t make a spectacle of yourself in the process.

At last the set ended, and she was returned to the dowager with a bow. At the dowager’s side sat Duke Heinrich, who rose at Juliette’s approach.

“Thank y-y-you for the favor of d-d-dancing with me, Lady J-JJuliette,” Mr. Stevenson stammered. He turned on his heel, and Juliette wanted to call him back to apologize for her inattention, but he was gone in the crowd.