“Of course.” If the discussion turned to the investigation of her father’s death, that wouldn’t be Juliette’s fault, would it?

Heinrich and Coatsworth greeted Bertie, and Heinrich turned his attention to Juliette. “You are competing today? I should have guessed you would be an accomplished archeress.” His expression and his hand clasp were warm. “You are looking the part.” He indicated her uniform peeking from under her cloak. “Very nice.”

“Thank you.” She returned his smile. “Archery was a favorite activity of mine and Miss Montgomery’s at school. The academy we attended had a team, and we were often well placed when we competed.” Truth be told, they were first nearly every time, but she did not wish to brag.

His face sobered. “How is Miss Montgomery? I have not seen her since the luncheon after her father’s funeral.”

Juliette waited for Alonzo to answer, but he stared into the distance, as if he hadn’t heard a word, much as he had at Almack’s the night before last. Perhaps love was not the cause. Grief touched everyone in a different manner, but she hadn’t realized the viscount and Mr. Montgomery had been so close that he would mourn so openly.

Finally Juliette said, “I believe she is faring as well as can be expected. I plan to call upon her later today.”

The noise across the way increased, and several of the protestors raised signs.

“It appears this group is agitated about industrial progress. I wonder if Jasper Finch stirred them up.” Bertie stroked his chin. “I think I’ll toddle over and take a closer look. Juliette, allow these gentlemen to tender you into the care of your club secretary. I’ll meet you on this spot after the tournament.”

He sauntered away, and Heinrich offered his arm. “May I?” He bent and lifted her case with ease. As they neared the tent, he said, “I shall wait here for you, yes?”

The secretary for the Dianas glanced up from her papers when Juliette approached. A marquee had been erected over the woman’s table, and small sandbags stood atop the pages to keep them from fluttering away in the chilled breeze. She took note of Juliette’s uniform beneath her half-open cloak. “You must be Lady Juliette Thorndike.” Rising, she extended her hand. “I’m Lady Croft.”

“A pleasure.”

The secretary looked past Juliette at the German duke, and an odd transformation overcame her expression. Her lashes flicked, color tinged her cheeks, and she bobbed a curtsey, calling out, “Your Grace, welcome.”

Juliette hid a smile. Fawning was not too strong a word for how Lady Croft comported herself. Heinrich stepped up, shifted Juliette’s bow case to his other hand, and took Lady Croft’s offered fingers. He clicked his boot heels together as he bent over her knuckles.