"So too much lace?"

I turned back to Mary who stood before me, holding out her cuffs once more for my inspection.

"A bit much, yes," I answered. She nodded and headed back up the stairs for her room to change. By the time I turned back around, the men had disappeared down the hall and I could hear the distinct sound of George Keene's office door being closed behind them as they fell into muffled discussion.

My mind raced with a million questions as I hitched up my skirts and jogged down the rest of the stairs to the foyer below. What was Detective Higgins doing among the Keene family's so-called informants? They had welcomed him inside, even escorted him straight to their boss, while they had beaten another man half to death for simply setting foot inside of a police station. So why welcome one of them in on another day?

Guards stood outside of George Keene's office at all times and I was not yet important enough or trusted enough to talk my way into that room to hear what was being said. But I desperately needed to. Whether Detective Higgins was performing his own sort of undercover work or had become a double agent of evil, it was imperative that I found out lest I risk my own mission in my ignorance.

I recalled, from days prior during a walk with Cecily through the gardens, that her father's office had a door to the outside, just behind a large stone fountain and covered in curtains so that one could not see inside. Cecily said her father claimed he frequently enjoyed the open air but I knew better. I hadn't seen him open those doors once since I'd arrived. I knew what their purpose truly was. Men like George Keene had need of a quick escape no matter where they were just in case things went south in their everyday course of business. I headed for that door now, checking the gardens to ensure I was alone.

Kneeling behind the fountain with my ear pressed to the cool glass of the door, I could hear the men speaking beyond.

"The earnings from the East End gambling halls have been collected, sir," a man whose voice I did not recognize was saying. "They are being counted at the shop. We should have a proper total for you by this evening."

"Were there any issues in making the collections?" George Keene's own low voice responded. There was a brief pause before the man answered.

"Only one, sir. Henry Dorr's accounts didn't match his coin."

Another moment of unsteady silence before George Keene answered, "Michael. Pay him a visit. See if you can get his accounts... settled."

I heard some shuffling before the interior door opened and someone left. I assumed it was Michael going to do his father's bidding. Once the door was shut behind them again, another man spoke up. This one's voice, I recognized.

"We've gotten more reports from that investigator, sir," Detective Higgins' gruff voice called out. "This time they were mailed to us. He's keeping us apprised of your dealings, seems that he sends us a letter every time he finds another of your associates."

"The investigator..." George Keene trailed off as if trying to remember who Detective Higgins was referring to. "That was-"

"Langley, sir."

I froze, too afraid to even breathe. I pressed my ear closer to the cool glass and felt ice in my veins at the mention of Alexander's name. George Keene personally knew of him? He was aware of our investigations himself? And, furthermore, it seemed that Detective Higgins was the one keeping him so informed. My heart fell into my stomach at the prospect as I recalled everything we had done, everything we had said at the police station that might have been overheard and reported, everything that Higgins knew.

"Ah, yes," George Keene was saying now and I could not help but notice the irritation in his tone and the absolute revilement with which he spoke Alexander's name. "Langley. I thought that issue was taken care of."

"It is," Higgins rushed on. "I have been intercepting his communications with the police department. You would be surprised how many folders get lost from the back room throughout the regular course of business. As for Langley himself, well, according to Ryland he's gone overseas for a while."

"Good," George Keene answered. "That's good. Ensure that he doesn't slip right back into his old ways upon his return. Morris?"

"There's a new gentleman in town moved here from the country, the second son of some Lord," another man, presumably Morris, spoke then and it seemed the business of Alexander Langley was complete for the moment. "He's expressed some interest in the purchase of a few gambling halls downtown."

"Visit him," George Keene directed. "Offer him the usual terms."

"Yes, sir."

"If there's nothing else gentlemen, I've much to do."

There was the sound of shuffling as the men all made their way out of George Keene's office at his dismissal, muttering to one another as they went. I couldn't make out anything they were saying, only that Higgins' voice was not among the throng.

I stood slowly back to my feet, straightening myself after kneeling for so long beside the fountain. I turned to leave when someone called out and caught my attention.

"You can come out of the shadows now," a familiar voice called confidently from inside of the office. I froze. Taking a breath, I turned back to find the doors to the office opening and George Keene standing beyond them, watching me with narrowed eyes. I balled my hands into fists to keep them from shaking as he stepped aside and gestured for me to join him. After a moment's hesitation, I did.

He shut the doors behind us and I glanced around to the stunning realization that we were alone. I kept my distance, as far away from his desk as I was the door. I tucked my hands into the folds of my dress so that he could not see I was shaking and kept my eyes firmly on his movements as he returned to his desk and sat.

"Would you care to tell me why my newest house guest is sneaking around outside of my office eavesdropping on my business?" he asked after a moment. My lips parted in surprise at his candor and I did my best to look ashamed, dropping my gaze to the floor and hoping I looked embarrassed.

"I apologize, sir," I answered. "I have a natural curiosity that gets me into trouble more often than not."

"A curiosity," he repeated, leaning back in his chair as he looked up at me in examination. "What, precisely, about my business is so curious to you?"

"I- well, I've seen things while living under your roof. I've seen men come and go, some on missions given by you yourself and some beaten and bloody. Would you not be curious if you saw such activities under the roof that is housing you?"

It was too bold; I knew it the moment it left my lips. But George Keene only smiled back at me.

"Ah, so finally the real Gwendolyn Marlowe scratches the surface of that friendly countenance you put on," he said with a grin and I fell silent to allow him to continue his observation. "I knew it was there. The moment you saw what we did to Mr. Davis and still did not leave. The friendly woman of high society that you are pretending to be would have run from my home screaming had they seen what you had. But you remained, relatively unruffled by the whole event."

"It's business," I answered, feeling more confident in myself now that he appeared to admire my strength. I raised my chin and looked him in the eye as I continued. "I told you before, Mr. Keene. I understand that difficult decisions must be made in the name of business. Some of them are unpleasant. Besides, I am Cecily's friend. It would take more than that to turn me against her."

"Some friend you are, indeed," he nodded. "But that's not all you are, is it?"

My smile faltered here as my mind raced to understand what he might possibly mean by that. He glanced away, looking back down at the papers in front of him, shuffling through a few of them before he spoke again.

"My son has taken an interest in you," he spoke and my lungs expelled a breath of relief. "Cecily and Camden are important to me and it seems as though you have become important to both of them. So I would be remiss if I did not question your intentions, especially given what you have witnessed in my home these past weeks and the fact that I just found you kneeling in my flowerbeds."

I watched him carefully. He wasn't looking at me but was rummaging through papers on his desk. He seemed to be taking great pains to appear unaffected and uninterested in the conversation we were having but I could tell he cared greatly for his children and concerned himself with who they became involved with.

"What sort of intentions do you fear me having, sir?" I decided to ask, taking the safer way out of letting him tell me what he feared. He glanced up at me then, narrowed gaze, trying to determine if I was avoiding his question or if I truly couldn't imagine the possibility of having ill intentions toward his family.

"With what I do, I have to be careful about who I and my children associate with, Miss Marlowe," he answered after a moment. "I am only asking if I have to worry about you."

"No, sir," I replied at once. "You have nothing to fear from me."

"Then I wonder, perhaps, if you would be interested in becoming more involved."

Every hair on the back of my neck stood on end but I leaned forward all the same as I asked, "Sir?"

"Cecily is not subtle. Despite my instruction on how women are meant to behave. She isn't capable of keeping her opinions to herself and she's far too loud on far too many occasions. You, however, have the mark of a true lady. The way you hold yourself, the confidence in your voice when you speak, the way you are timid and yet strong. It's precisely the sort of countenance that other women admire. It will draw them to you," he started and I waited to hear what that had to do with what he needed from me. "You've shown yourself to be capable of sneaking about to eavesdrop, you've displayed a natural curiosity that we can use to our advantage. In my line of work, knowledge is power. There is a need for information more than deeds and titles and anything else that we traffic in. I know that a woman of your stature has access to certain information that I do not. I'm merely requesting you provide me with that information as you overhear it."

"Sir, I don't understand what-"

"Wives talk. Women gossip when they get together. If you should hear of anything that might interest me, it would mean a great deal if you would come directly to me with it."

A spy. That was what he wanted. A woman on the inside with the fortitude to gather information while remaining seemingly aloof. Someone whom they would not expect. And he was betting that I could be that woman. Perhaps George Keene was a better judge of character than I had previously given him credit for.

After a moment, I gave him a solitary nod and he broke out into a grin at our sealed agreement.

"Many prominent women of society are often to be found in my drawing room or my gardens. My wife is planning another party soon. I'm sure you will receive an invitation. After all, you are-"

"Just Cecily's friend," I finished for him, giving him a smile to assure him of my comfort in my role.

"And Camden?" he raised a brow.

"If Camden intends to pursue me, it will take more than halfhearted flattery."

He smiled at my response.

"There's a fire in you, Miss Marlowe," George Keene told me then. "It's something that Camden could use in a wife. It's something you need to have for what we do. Just don't let it consume you."

He turned back to his papers and I took this as my dismissal. Nodding and turning, I made my way to the door and slipped outside. The guards glanced my way as I exited but I only kept my head down and marched through the hall toward my room.