She studied him, as if unsure whether to confirm or deny. They were both new to the espionage game, working clandestinely for both the Home and Foreign Offices when called upon to do so, and they had been drilled not to ask too many questions, not to share information unless told to do so, and never to divulge the particulars of a case to someone not immediately involved.

“Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked.” He sipped his punch, regretting putting her in such an awkward position as to have to refuse him.

“There’s the viscount. I should speak to him.” Juliette set down her fork and pushed back her chair. Daniel rose to pull it out, and Heinrich stood, brows raised.

“I’ll just be a moment,” she told the duke. “I see someone with whom I wish to speak.”

Without asking, Daniel went with her. He had a few questions he’d like to ask Lord Darby. Thus far there had been no sign of who had stolen the household money belonging to Agatha Montgomery, but perhaps Lord Darby would have some ideas. He was more familiar with the staff and guests who had been in the house at the time of the theft. It seemed a minor crime compared to the murder and the destruction of the mill, but it fell under Daniel’s purview, as he had been present just before the theft was discovered.

“Good evening, Lord Darby.” Juliette touched his arm. “I did not expect you to be here tonight. I thought you would be in Kent. You were to visit your grandfather, were you not?”

Coatsworth looked at her as if he didn’t quite understand her questions. He appeared to be dazed, his eyes staring but not seeing.

“Alonzo? Did you visit your grandfather, or did something alter your plans?”

He shook his head. “I came back this afternoon.” The words were all but mumbled, unlike the outspoken viscount.

“Is something wrong?” Juliette asked. “Is it Agatha?”

“Agatha?” He focused. “No, she’s fine. I mean, she is as fine as she can be under the circumstances.”

“And you? Are you all right? You seem a bit distracted. Would you like to sit down? We’ve a table with plenty of room.”

Coatsworth seemed to notice Daniel for the first time, and he recoiled, as if he’d encountered a Nile viper. “No, thank you.” His glare was as frosty as the North Sea in January. “I will not sit at a table with this man. Not ever.” He turned sharply and plunged from the room.

Daniel crossed one arm, propped the other elbow upon it, and tapped his lips with his fist, sighing. “Was it something I said?”

Juliette, who had scowled at the viscount’s rudeness, laughed, her displeasure softening into humor. “It must have been.”

Sir Bertrand entered, sighted Juliette, and came over. “Was that Lord Darby hurrying away like his coattails were on fire?”