“You are in for a treat. Mr. Swann is an excellent partner.” Juliette harked back to the one dance she had shared with the detective, at the ball thrown by the Ash Valley Hunt Club. The same night she’d learned the truth of his upbringing and the unfortunate circumstances of his birth. She could scarcely imagine what the gossips in the room would have to say if they knew he was baseborn, the illegitimate son of a domestic servant.

Heinrich leaned in and whispered to Juliette. “Help me do both of them the favor, yes?”

She nodded, unsure of what he was asking.

“I know I am promised to Lady Juliette for the next dance, but I wonder if she would mind if I postponed the pleasure. Miss Victon, would you share the next with me? And Herr Swann, you would partner Lady Juliette?”

Light dawned. By dancing with such an illustrious guest as the foreign duke, Miss Victon’s stock would rise. As would Daniel’s if someone of Juliette’s social standing partnered him.

Either that or her stock would fall, but she didn’t care about such things anyway. If the silly gaggle of gossips wanted to pass around faradiddles, that was not her concern.

“You wouldn’t mind?” Miss Victon asked Daniel. “I would not want to slight you, and I seem to have trouble knowing what is proper here in London and what isn’t.”

“I have the same trouble.” Daniel smiled wryly. “I’ll share you for one dance. I know the duke well, and he will take care of you. Your chaperone, Lady Cathcart, will not mind. She’s sure to think you’ve done better for yourself. It’s Lady Juliette who will have to settle, should she agree with the exchange.”

The music began, and Juliette put her hand in his offered one. A tingle went from her fingertips to her chest as his clasp tightened.

Dancing with Juliette was every bit as intoxicating as Daniel remembered. Their one other dance, at the Ash Valley Hunt Club Ball, had ended abruptly with an intrusion of work that led to their racing back to London in the dead of night.

Pray no work interfered tonight, because he never wanted this dance to end.

Each time she circled him, he inhaled the scent of roses. Her white dress of some shiny, slippery material shimmered and whispered, in that way women’s clothes had of mesmerizing unsuspecting males.

He did not mind being a willing victim for this evening. Mostly because he knew his patronage would end with the coming of his twenty-fifth birthday. There would be no more missives from the solicitors with orders to do this or that. There would be no more tasks such as partnering a girl to her first night at Almack’s.