Cover

“Set in a time made thick with societal rules and regulations, Erica Vetsch’s Millstone of Doubt weaves a classic tale of how the old affects the new. An artfully told story that will have you wondering at the outcome until the final pages are read.”

—Ruth Logan Herne, USA Today best-selling author

“I’ve been eagerly awaiting Millstone of Doubt ever since I read the first book in this series. This novel proved every bit as riveting, with characters I’d already come to know and love. A diverse cast offers endless wit and fascinating, well-rounded perspectives, and intrigues that are layered and textured. It’s the perfect combination for a fully satisfying mystery. I can’t wait to read the next one!”

—Jocelyn Green, Christy Award–winning author of Drawn by the Current

“Millstone of Doubt is a romantic Regency mystery, beautifully threaded with God’s grace. I am sure fans of the first book in this series will revel in the deepening relationship between Daniel Swann and Juliette Thorndike.”

—Alissa Baxter, author of The Viscount’s Lady Novelist

“Millstone of Doubt captivated me from the first sentence and kept me guessing the entire novel. Suspense and intrigue held me on the edge of my seat, suspecting various red herring characters of their part in the murder. I laughed over Lady Juliette’s predicaments as the elegant but feisty heroine developed her craft spying for the crown. The dashing and intelligent Bow Street runner, Daniel Swann, comes to life as the hero with his hidden insecurities and quirks.

Millstone of Doubt weaves an artful blend of the opulent splendor of the aristocracy and the grit and sweat of the working classes, and the underlying current of tension between the two sustains throughout the story. Erica Vetsch is the master of all things Regency. Her keen eye for historical detail, rhetoric, and knowledge of people and customs place readers inside a delightful era of history.”

—Lorri Dudley, author of The Duke’s Refuge and the Leeward Islands series

THORNDIKE & SWANN REGENCY MYSTERIES

The Debutante’s Code

Millstone of Doubt

Children of the Shadows

SERENDIPITY & SECRETS

The Lost Lieutenant

The Gentleman Spy

The Indebted Earl

Joy to the World: A Regency Christmas Collection by Carolyn Miller, Amanda Barratt, and Erica Vetsch

Dedication

To Julie Klassen and Michelle Griep. You are both shining examples of what friendship should be.

To all the members of the Inspirational Regency Readers group on Facebook. You are so appreciated!

And to Peter, always, with my love.

Chapter 1

Thorndike House

London

March 1, 1816

THE PROBLEM WITH CONCEALING A weapon beneath a day dress at a social gathering became all too apparent to Lady Juliette Thorndike the moment she sat beside the Dowager Duchess of Haverly. Juliette had only worn the pistol because, following her abduction last month, Uncle Bertie had insisted she never again go anywhere unarmed. Though she couldn’t think of a single reason she would need a weapon at a small party hosted in her parents’ home, she had decided to humor him. And now here she was, less than a half hour into that party, and the strap holding the pistol against her thigh had shifted and loosened, the gun parting company with her leg.

At least she hadn’t been standing when the defection occurred, but now what?

A flutter of panic arrested her breathing. She imagined herself rising, the gun clattering to the floor, and the entire guest list for the Venetian breakfast gasping in horror. The dowager would first stare and then glare, and Uncle Bertie would roll his eyes and issue a statement forthwith that she was an embarrassment and completely untrainable. As her primary instructor in the art of spy craft—as well as the possessor of a dry, sharp wit—he would not let such a faux pas pass without censure.

Not to mention what her parents might say. The Earl and Countess of Thorndike had tailored the guest list especially to bring certain people into countenance with one another, to gauge reactions and elicit information without the subjects being aware they were under study by several agents of the Crown. If Juliette caused a ruction, today’s mission would be disrupted.

Juliette gripped her fingers in her lap. She couldn’t exactly hike her skirts and apprehend the fugitive weapon. How was she to rectify the situation?

“It’s a lovely party. Though with your mother as hostess, I would expect no less.” The dowager sipped her tea. “Do you think Duke Heinrich von Lowe will remain in England for the rest of the Season? It has been pleasant having him at these social functions. He lends such a continental flair to the gatherings.”

Juliette nodded, barely taking in the dowager’s words while inching her hand alongside her leg, hoping to pin the pistol with her palm. At least the firearm was encased in a holster. Her only prayer was that she wouldn’t accidentally fire the gun, piercing either herself or the velvet upholstery of her mother’s settee. But the satin of her dress worked against her, sliding and slipping, failing to give purchase.

Twenty-five guests filled the drawing room of her parents’ London townhouse, nibbling hors d’oeuvres and chatting. Midday sun slanted through the tall windows, and on one of the sofas, Juliette’s mother held court with the guest of honor, Duke Heinrich von Lowe of Brandenburg.

Her mother was exquisite, her black hair coiffed in the latest style and her dress as fashionable as tomorrow. Crystals glittered along the neckline of her blue gown, catching the light and winking. She leaned in to hear something the duke said and then she laughed, causing heads to turn.

The duke’s military dress, complete with sash and medals, made him noticeable in the group, as did his carefully parted blond hair. Juliette had met him only last month at her debut ball, but they had attended several functions together, and she had found him courteous and interesting. He was a favorite of hostesses throughout the ton and had accepted many invitations.

His gaze met hers, and he inclined his head. He’d paid considerable attention to her recently, and the look in his eyes now was intent and ardent. Her throat closed a fraction, and she looked away. His interest flattered but she didn’t take it seriously. They barely knew each other, and rumor had it he would return to Germany soon. And hadn’t she promised herself that during this, her first Season out in London society, she would not succumb to the attentions of any man? She wished only to reacquaint herself with her parents and find her way in her post-boarding-school life.

Not to mention assimilating everything she’d learned about her family and her history over the last few weeks and embarking on this new journey as a fledgling agent for the Crown.

Praying her face did not give away her discomfiture—both at the duke’s interest and at the fact she still had not secured the infernal pistol—she walked her fingers along her leg. To her horror, she brushed the butt of the gun, inching it toward the edge of the settee. She stiffened, yanking her hand back for fear of sending it over.

But might that be the best course of action? The settee rested atop a thick Axminster carpet. If she could ease the gun over the edge, perhaps she could cough to cover the thump it would make and then kick it under the sofa to retrieve later.

The dowager prattled on, oblivious to Juliette’s plight. “I am ready for this chilly weather to break. I’m anticipating a trip to the seashore to visit my daughter, the Countess of Rothwell, this spring, and I hate to travel in the cold. It’s bad enough coming down from Oxfordshire for the Season in the dead of winter, but to have the frost linger this far into the spring is unbearable.”

The dowager was one of those ladies who was quite content to have observers rather than participants in any conversation she held. Juliette smothered a smile and nodded, which was all the encouragement the dowager needed to continue.

Juliette’s fingers approached the butt of the gun again through her pale-pink gown. She drew in a breath and pushed.

She let out a cough she hoped would disguise the impact. But rather than thudding to the floor, the weapon didn’t budge. A tug pulled along the back of her thigh. She was sitting on the strap she had used to bind the holster to her leg.

Botheration. She couldn’t move it up, and she couldn’t move it down. At least she no longer needed to worry about the gun crashing to the floor before she was ready, but then again, she had no way of stopping it from doing so when she was forced to rise. She shoved again, just to make sure she couldn’t move the thing without being obvious, but she bumped the dowager’s elbow slightly.

“What are you doing?” The dowager pinned her with a stare. “You’re jerking as if you’ve contracted Saint Vitus’ dance. Sit still, child.”

Juliette stopped wriggling, the pistol just inches from where she could secure it. “I am sorry.” Her words were forced through a clenched-teeth smile. Uncle Bertie glanced her way, and she wanted to melt into the floor. He missed nothing, and somehow she knew he was aware of her exact predicament. He raised his brows in a mocking query, a smile touching his lips, and she glared at him. He was enjoying her discomfiture altogether too much.

Mr. Pultney, the family butler, unwittingly came to her rescue by appearing at the drawing room door. “Breakfast is served.”

The guests deposited their small plates on the nearest flat surfaces and drifted toward the hall. Juliette remained seated even when the Duke of Haverly came over to assist his mother to her feet.

“Lady Juliette, you’re looking quite fetching today.” The duke, handsome and well-built, smoothed his long hair back into the queue at his nape.

Juliette always felt safer when the Duke of Haverly was about. He was not only capable and intelligent, but he was now the director of the agency, her parents’ and Bertie’s supervisor. And he had a lovely wife, Charlotte, who was also at the party and with whom he was clearly besotted.

“Are you enjoying your debut Season?” he asked.

“Yes, Your Grace, especially since my parents were able to rejoin me here in London.”

The dowager adjusted the lace at her cuffs and leaned on her cane. “So unfortunate they had to be away when you arrived home from finishing school. Still, there it is. Noblesse oblige. When the needs of the estate call, one must go.” She looked down at Juliette, her gray curls clustered beside her cheeks. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Please, go ahead. I’ll just be a moment.”

The dowager sniffed. “Waiting for someone special to escort you? Of course you are. Come, Marcus.” She put her hand through her son’s arm, a calculating gleam in her eyes. “These girls today. So canny.”

Heat charged into Juliette’s cheeks as the duke, leading his mother away, glanced over his shoulder. The dowager thought she was setting her cap for someone in particular? Looking for an escort?

As if she would. This was her year of freedom, of enjoying herself and not worrying about flirting with men or finding a husband. And at the moment, her only concern was getting a gun out of her skirts.

The moment both Haverly backs were turned, Juliette raised her leg, dislodged the strap holding the holster, and let it fall to the carpet with a soft thump.

“Lady Juliette.”

Her chin jerked up. Duke Heinrich.

Frantically searching with her slipper, she found the pistol and slid it across the carpet, nudging it beneath the settee, hoping her hem hid the movement. She barely avoided puffing her cheeks out in a huge sigh as she disguised the weapon.

“Duke Heinrich, I hope you are enjoying yourself?”

“Very much. Your mother has given permission for me to take you into the dining room.” Duke Heinrich offered his hand.

Behind him, near the door, Juliette’s parents, the Earl and Countess of Thorndike, waited arm in arm, clearly as besotted as the Duke of Haverly and his wife, though they had been married years longer. A warmth that held a hint of longing surrounded Juliette’s heart.

Juliette took the duke’s hand, rising and smoothing her skirts. She felt behind her with her foot once more to ensure the gun was out of sight, then rested her fingers on his arm. “Thank you, sir.”

As they entered the hall, a footman opened the front door, allowing a brisk breeze to scurry into the room. Juliette turned, and her breath caught.

Don’t be ridiculous. You knew he was invited today. And for pity’s sake, don’t blush. He’ll think you a silly chit.

Though she scolded herself, she felt a thrill race along her collarbones. Ever since they had worked together last month, first at odds and then so closely in the matter of the stolen artwork, Mr. Daniel Swann had never been far from her thoughts.

Which was absurd. He was a detective and a colleague, but she was a lady of the ton. There were expectations she must fulfill. Not that she was a snob. Of course not. It was just that while their professional lives might intersect, their personal lives lay far apart.

None of which kept her from acknowledging that Daniel Swann was a fine-looking man. He dressed very well in clothes a dandy would envy, while keen intelligence shone from his eyes, intriguing and unsettling her.

He had played a significant role in rescuing her from kidnappers too. Brave and daring. She would not be human if such heroism didn’t attract her attention.

Duke Heinrich paused to greet the detective. “Herr Swann, you are joining us today?”

Juliette couldn’t tell if the duke was pleased or surprised or both. It was unusual to have someone of Daniel’s stripe as an invited guest at a society gathering, but then again, her parents were known for bringing eclectic groups together.

“Or is it that there is something amiss? A crime perhaps?” The duke smiled as if jesting, but questions lingered in his pale-blue eyes.

“Your Grace.” Daniel nodded. “Lady Juliette.” He bowed, handing his cloak and hat to the footman. “I have been invited by the earl and countess. A thank-you, I believe, for services rendered.”

“Well deserved.” The duke’s hand tightened over Juliette’s on his arm. “Not only at the return of all that stolen artwork, but when those men kidnapped Lady Juliette …” He shook his head. “You were most brave in recovering her, and I thank you sincerely.”

Daniel’s eyes darted from the duke to Juliette, and his brows came down. Juliette flushed. Did Daniel, too, hear the proprietary tone in the duke’s voice?

Agatha Montgomery, Juliette’s best friend, hurried toward them from the dining room. “Jules, I’ve been hoping for a moment alone with you—” She skidded to a halt, blinking. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t realize you were busy.” Shifting her weight, she twisted her fingers together, biting her lip.

Juliette could not ignore her imploring look. Clearly she had something of import to share, though with Agatha, everything was important and nothing trivial. At least it would give Juliette an excuse to escape Duke Heinrich’s attentions for a moment—and Daniel’s presence too—until she could compose herself properly.

“Gentlemen, if you will excuse us?” She stepped back. “Agatha, perhaps we can move into the salon?”

As she linked arms with her friend, Uncle Bertie appeared in the dining room doorway. He jerked his chin toward Daniel and beckoned. “Ah, good, you’re here. Juliette, are you coming?”

“Please, go in without us. I need a word with Agatha.” And an opportunity to retrieve my pistol before it is discovered.

Agatha all but bolted into the drawing room, spinning on her toes to face Juliette. “You’ll never guess.”

“What is it?” Juliette sneaked a glance at the settee, noting that the tip of the holster protruded from beneath the edge.

“Alonzo proposed. He actually proposed.” Agatha bounced, clapping her hands, color riding her cheeks and happiness sparkling from her eyes. “I’m getting married.”

Juliette dropped to the settee, her mouth agape. “What? When?” The couple had barely known each other a month. Was that long enough to know if you wanted to marry someone?

“He asked Father’s permission. Alonzo told me Father jested about someone finally taking me off his hands, but I think he’s very pleased. A viscount, heir to an earldom. For me. Can you believe it?”

Juliette pulled herself together, knowing that her misgivings and startlement would rub the bloom off the moment for Agatha. She leapt up and grabbed her friend’s hands, squeezing them before drawing her into a hug. “Congratulations. I had no idea it was becoming so serious between the two of you. You two haven’t known each other very long. Are you in love with him?”

Love wasn’t strictly necessary for marriages these days—especially ones as advantageous as this one would be, making Agatha a viscountess and eventually a countess. But Juliette and Agatha had spent long hours after lamps were extinguished, lying in their dormitory beds and declaring they would never marry for less than true love.

Agatha’s blush deepened, and she ducked her chin. “I do. I love him very much, and he says he loves me.”

Juliette squeezed Agatha’s upper arms. “That’s all that matters, then. Have you chosen a date?”

“Oh, goodness no. Since we have known each other such a short time, Father has insisted upon a longish betrothal, perhaps waiting until autumn or even Christmastime to wed. Alonzo would like us to be married at his family’s country estate since his grandfather is frail and cannot travel. Doesn’t that sound lovely? A church wedding at a country estate?” Agatha’s eyes took on a far-off look, as if she could see herself in nuptial finery with her groom at her side.

“Lovely indeed.” Juliette was so distracted by news of the engagement she forgot herself, reached down, retrieved her pistol, and wrapped the strap around the holster absentmindedly.

“What is that?” Agatha asked.

Juliette glanced down, mortification washing over her. She barely resisted tossing the gun away from herself. “I believe it is a little jest planted by Uncle Bertie. He has hinted that if I am going to be kidnapped with any frequency, perhaps he should stash weapons about the house. Do not worry—it isn’t loaded.” She silently begged God’s forgiveness for the lie. The gun certainly was loaded. “Let’s go into the dining room before someone comes in search of us. I cannot wait for you to announce your news.”

“Your uncle has a peculiar sense of humor. As to the announcement, that will happen tomorrow night at the party. Father wants to tell everyone himself.” Agatha’s brows fell. “He was supposed to be here this afternoon though. He went to the Hammersmith Mill, but he was coming here straight after, and he’s late. Again. Why must his work always take precedence over other things? Me in particular? He’ll probably arrive late to my wedding.”

“I’m sure he’ll come soon. You know how men can be, losing track of time when they’re working.” Juliette took the pistol with her to the dining room. Passing a potted fern on a plinth in the hall, she tucked the gun into the fronds for retrieval later.

Uncle Bertie would not count that she had fulfilled her task of remaining armed at all times, but sometimes one had to improvise.

Daniel found himself seated too close to the outspoken Jasper Finch and much too far away from Lady Juliette at the Venetian breakfast. Though breakfast was a bit of a misnomer. It was the middle of the afternoon. Why couldn’t his hosts just say they’d invited him for luncheon, like normal people?

“The Luddites were right to be afraid those machines would be problematic. Look at what’s happening to our factories and industries.” Jasper Finch punctuated every word with his fork, poking the air. “Jobs gone, people thrown out of work by this automation and mechanization. First it was the textile industry, and now it’s milling. Mark my words—this new trend will bring about an economic crisis. The common man will not stand for being thrown out of work.”

“Why don’t they find other work to do?” a man opposite asked.

“Other work? If you’ve spent your entire life, from boyhood apprenticeship to adulthood, learning and perfecting your trade, what else are you supposed to do with your skills when your employer tells you you’re no longer wanted? There are weavers and embroiderers and millers and rope makers and sail makers and more being shoved out of their way of life in droves, without so much as a fare-thee-well.”

Poke, poke, poke with the silver tines.

“But it’s progress,” the same guest said. “That has to be good for the country, does it not?”

“Progress? To impoverish thousands in order to make a few men rich? I think you and I differ on what should be classified as progress.”

Finch droned on, but Daniel allowed his mind to turn to other things.

First to Lady Juliette. She looked lovely as always, her dark hair and eyes shining. Composed, a smile on her heart-shaped face as she listened to Duke Heinrich von Lowe, who bent to whisper something to her.

An odd feeling twisted in Daniel’s gut as he acknowledged how well they looked together. The duke was masculine, handsome, and courteous—and, as much as Daniel wanted to dislike him, friendly as well. Several times, he and the duke had met early in the day to ride in Hyde Park. Only a few weeks ago the duke had purchased a horse Daniel had been hired to sell, and lately the duke enjoyed taking the animal for brisk gallops in the deserted park at dawn. After the rides, he invited Daniel to his lodgings for breakfast and conversation.

Yes, as much as Daniel wanted to dislike the duke for his obvious interest in Lady Juliette, he couldn’t.

The man was his friend.

Shrugging off those conflicting thoughts, he turned to the other item preying upon his mind.

The Story Continues on BooksBarbecue!

Enjoyed this preview? ❤️ Do not stop here!

Read the complete book free online → 🔗

Continue reading now on BooksBarbecue and discover every page!

Love reading? Bookmark BooksBarbecue.com for more amazing books!

Happy Reading!