Millstone of Doubt Published by Kregel Publications by Erica Vetsch
Series: Thorndike & Swann Regency Mysteries #2
on September 20, 2022
Genres: Christian, Mystery, Romance, Historical
Pages: 304
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ISBN: 0825447143
Regency London's detective duo is back on a new case--and this one is going to be a killer Caught in the explosion of the Hammersmith Mill in London, Bow Street Runner Daniel Swann rushes to help any survivors only to find the mill's owner dead of an apparent gunshot.
Even though the owner's daughter, Agatha Montgomery, mourns his death, it seems there are more than a few people with motive for murder. But Daniel can't take this investigation slow and steady. Instead, he must dig through all the suspects as quickly as he can, because the clock is ticking until his mysterious patronage--and his job as a runner--comes to an abrupt and painful end. It seems to Daniel that, like his earthly father, his heavenly Father has abandoned him to the fates.
Lady Juliette Thorndike is Agatha's bosom friend and has the inside knowledge of the wealthy London ton to be invaluable to Daniel. She should be in a perfect position to help with the case. Still, her instructor in the art of spy craft orders her to stay out of the investigation. But circumstances intervene, dropping her into the middle of the deadly pursuit.
When a dreadful accident ends in another death on the mill floor, Daniel discovers a connection to his murder case--and to his own secret past. Now he and Juliette are in a race to find the killer before his time runs out.
Excerpt 4 from Millstone of Doubt
A niggle of doubt burrowed into his chest. What if, after all his chafing against the restraints of his guardianship, he found he could not make a success of his life without it? What if, without the weight of his unknown patron moving behind the scenes, Sir Michael Biddle, Daniel’s supervisor, found a way to terminate his employment at Bow Street and he was forced to find another way to support himself?
Rubbish. Stop cowering. You have a tidy sum laid by after all the reward money pressed upon you when you returned that stolen artwork. And you’re not without skills and education. And you do have another job, even if you have no idea what it entails or if you’ ll be a success at it. Nor what being an agent for the Crown pays. You failed to discuss the matter when you were recruited.
He looked down the table to where Sir Bertrand Thorndike con- versed with the Duchess of Haverly. The duchess’s husband, Marcus Haverly, was Daniel’s new part-time employer, though they had yet to set terms and expectations. He had supposed his invitation to this luncheon was in part to acquaint him with the new tasks he’d be asked to undertake.
“Don’t you agree?” Finch waved his fork near Daniel’s face, and he jerked.
“Your pardon?”
“I say, you were woolgathering, weren’t you? I asked if you agreed. Mill owners are the latest ogres of the workforce, automating their mills to the point where honest men cannot make a living.” The bud- ding anarchist leaned back, dropping his fork to his plate with a clatter that drew the attention of the rest of the party. “I had hoped to encounter one such mill owner here and confront him. Where is the good . . .” He trod heavily on the word, coating it with sarcasm. “Mr. Montgomery? Was he afraid to face me?”
Lord Thorndike raised his brows, his expression bemused. “I am interested in your views, Mr. Finch, and I had hoped to bring you and Garfield Montgomery together to discuss your differences, but perhaps we can save that for later, when the ladies have retired to the conservatory? I’m sure the gentlemen will find the conversation most stimulating once we are alone.” He signaled the footmen to begin clearing plates for the next course. “Are you aware that you are seated beside one of London’s finest? Mr. Daniel Swann of the Bow Street Magistrate’s Court. Mr. Swann is an investigator.”
Finch jerked as if someone had kicked him in the knee beneath the damask tablecloth. He raised his serviette and dabbed his lips. “A runner? Here?” The incredulity in his voice did Daniel no service. “Whatever for?”
From the looks of those around the table, most of the guests wondered the same thing. Brows raised or lowered according to their dis- positions, Daniel supposed. He could almost feel the drawing aside of skirts.
The Dowager Duchess of Haverly, seated near the Countess of Thorndike, sniffed—and her sniff could be heard across the channel. “I knew you had quite an eclectic taste in guests at your events, Lady Thorndike, but really, a rabble-rouser and a policeman? What’s next? Blacksmiths and stevedores?”
“We’ve never had a blacksmith to luncheon before, have we, my dear?” the earl asked his wife. “Poets, artists, policemen, thespians, and activists, but no blacksmiths. I shall have to make inquiries. I should think a stevedore or blacksmith would have an interesting perspective to share.”
The dowager gaped like a trout before snapping her jaws shut. A gleam of mischief lit the earl’s eyes, knowing he’d provoked the old bird.
Lady Juliette didn’t seem to be abashed, smiling from one parent to another. The earl and countess were known as broad-minded and unconcerned about class distinctions. Perhaps their work behind the scenes of society led them to see the world differently.
The earl bent a benevolent smile on his daughter.
A twinge of loss plucked at Daniel. Lady Juliette had an enviable relationship with her parents, something he had never known. His own father was a mystery his mother had refused to divulge.
He casually looked toward the angled screen in the corner, separating the formal dining room from the servants’ area. His mother was the housekeeper in this very home. They hadn’t spoken in more than a dozen years, and Daniel didn’t know if they ever would. After all, she had gotten rid of him at the earliest opportunity and gone on with her life as if he had never existed. And he had forged his own way without her help. They were strangers to each other.
“I have to agree with the dowager. It is most unusual to have such . . . ordinary people at a society luncheon.” Viscount Coatsworth smoothed his hand down his waistcoat. “It seems the policeman turns up at many of these functions. Almost as if he wishes he were one of us.”
Heat built along Daniel’s collar. He’d managed to get crossways with the viscount upon their first meeting, and clearly Coatsworth had not forgotten. He never missed an opportunity to put Daniel in his place.
“You never answered my question, Swann.” Finch spoke into the silence. “Do you agree that sometimes violence is necessary when all other avenues have been exhausted?” He looked squarely at Daniel, a challenge in his eyes. “Since you’re a policeman, you must be used to violence. You don’t carry a truncheon just for appearance’s sake.”
Daniel clenched his fists on his thighs out of sight, wishing he had never come, or at least hadn’t arrived until much later, after the rest had gone. The Duke of Haverly’s stare was particularly intense. What if Daniel answered in a way the duke didn’t approve? Would he terminate his offer of employment?
What could he do but speak honestly?
“When violence erupts, I often question whether all other avenues have truly been exhausted. Violence rarely brings about the results we desire, instead escalating and harming and further dividing the factions and sides until the original objective is lost in the fury that has built into an explosion.” He picked up his goblet. “I will not say it is never necessary, such as in the defense of one’s person or to protect someone else, but to use violence as a means to bring about social change, especially violence that results in the injury or death of innocent people, is often weak and cowardly.”
Finch scowled, but Daniel paid him little mind. Lady Juliette had her head tilted, as if considering what he’d said. They had been involved in more than one escapade that had a touch of violence, not the least of which had been her kidnapping by spies last month.
Chapter 1, pages 19 – 22
About Erica Vetsch
Erica Vetsch is a New York Times best-selling author and ACFW Carol Award winner and has been a Romantic Times top pick for her previous books. She loves Jesus, history, romance, and watching sports. This transplanted Kansan now makes her home in Rochester, Minnesota.
