The next morning proved to be my first test in my new role. Mrs. Keene had managed to pull Cecily and I into her mid-morning tea with the local elite she spent her time with. A group of middle aged sophisticated looking women awaited us in the drawing room when we entered. They gave us pursed lipped smiles as we took our seats and a nearby servant handed us our tea.

Cecily looked more annoyed than I had ever seen her, frowning plainly as she held her saucer loosely in her hand, letting it dangle so far that I saw the terror in the maid's eyes as she stood as close as she could to the girl, hoping to prevent a spill should it occur.

As Mrs. Keene made the introductions and Cecily rolled her eyes at the faux niceties, I settled in with a smile, hoping to remain ladylike and interested as was expected of me in my new post. They fell into their gossip quickly enough, grown women giggling over their tea like one would expect a group of teenagers to do. I did my best to go along with it though every time I forced a giggle, it was only to tamp down a gag.

"And that Mr. Campbell, you know," one of the women was saying and my attention snapped immediately to her as recognition of the name dawned upon me. The member of Parliament who's wife we had caught in a liaison with the murderous Edwin Jacobson. I leaned forward in interest as she continued. "His wife no longer wears her ring."

"No!" Mrs. Keene gasped, hand flying to cover her open mouth as if it were the biggest scandal of the year. "Why ever not?"

The woman shrugged as she answered, "Can't be certain. Though there's only one reason a woman stops wearing her wedding ring that I know of."

"You don't think-"

"Mother," Cecily barked and I gritted my teeth at her interruption. Could she not have waited until the culmination of this particular topic? "Gwendolyn and I have shopping to do. So if you would not mind-"

Before she could finish, another interruption sounded from the hall outside. We all turned to see Camden Keene storming into the foyer from the front door he had just slammed behind him. The butler approached but he waved him off, muttering something incomprehensible to himself as he ran a hand through his hair and stormed off down the hall. I stood, setting my tea aside, and excused myself to chase after him. I knew what the women would suppose. That there was something between the youngest Keene boy and I. Though, if George Keene were already aware of it, I could only imagine these gossiping crones had long since acknowledged it. My suspicions were confirmed by the way they grinned at one another as I strode out of the drawing room, following in his wake up the stairs.

I found him in his room, pacing in front of his bed, muttering angrily to himself. I remained in the threshold, fully aware of how inappropriate it would be for me to enter and watched as he walked. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair several times and even reached up to rip his own tie off of his neck and toss it onto his dresser. I began to wonder if I should speak out to indicate my presence but, after a moment, he turned to face me and I could tell he had known I was there all along.

"There are ways to accomplish your goals outside of violence you know," he said suddenly, gaze burning into me as he spoke. I simply waited for him to continue his tirade. "Oh, what am I saying? Of course, you know. It seems everyone outside of this family knows that."

He muttered a curse and ran a hand through his hair again. I raised a brow and waited for him to continue. This was an interesting development indeed.  It became clear, after several minutes of his quiet mutterings and angry pacing, that he was to offer me no further information without some prodding. So be it.

"Camden," I said softly and his eyes snapped to me in an instant. "What happened?"

His shoulders fell and his lip curled into a sneer as he collapsed into a seated position on the edge of his bed.

"Michael," he growled as if that were enough of an explanation. When it was obvious that it wasn't, he continued. "He asked me to go with him to visit a debtor this morning. A man who manages one of my father's establishments. It went wrong."

At his words, I noticed the dried blood on his collar and along his right sleeve for the first time. I fought to school my features and took a brave step into the room. As lost in his own thoughts as he was, he did not notice my approach until I reached out and touched the cuff of his sleeve, just where the trail of blood ended. His gaze snapped to mine and something in it hardened. I started to pull away but he caught my wrist and held me there.

"My father has a lot of very powerful friends," he whispered. "But I'm afraid that he's making himself some powerful enemies as well."

I blinked at him, lips parted in surprise. He glanced down at where he held my wrist and let go, clearing his throat as he did.

"Who?" I asked. He glanced back up at me.

"Richard Campbell."

He seemed to be quite the topic of the day. My eyes shot back down to the blood on Camden's collar.

"Did you-" I started but I got no further.

"Not him, no," Camden sighed, shaking his head. "But one of his associates. He's warned my father before about keeping violence out of the West End. Once he finds out what Michael has done... maybe I can tell him first."

He shot to his feet, resuming his pacing as he thought out loud of the idea he had just conjured.

"I can go to him, spin the story in our favor before he hears about it elsewhere, tell him we need more help," he was rattling off. I watched him, confused.

"More help?" I asked. "He helps you now?"

"He has connections with law enforcement," Camden told me excitedly, reaching for his tie and looping it back around his neck. "He's managed to convince several officers to look the other way on more than a few occasions."

I focused on keeping my lips closed and my eyes watching him tie his tie. Though I was surprised at the alleged behavior of a member of Parliament, I would never show it. Not in this house.

"Will you go with me?" he said suddenly and I was forced to look back up at him as he turned to me, fingers still working to return his tie to its original state.

"Go with you?" I repeated, genuinely stunned by his request. He nodded.

"Tonight," he told me. "We have to go tonight. I know father's asked you to take part in our business. It could be good for you to learn how the negotiations are done in person. Besides, I'd like you by my side for this."

He smirked flirtatiously and I reminded myself to stay focused as my mind worked to formulate a plan to combine my newest post within the Keene family and my true purpose living among them. Richard Campbell was a powerful man, a very powerful man. Even more powerful than the other names given to me by Chief Detective Ryland.

"Okay," I said finally and he smiled as he passed me on the way out of his room.

"Seven o'clock. Meet me in the foyer."

With that, he was gone and I was left standing in the center of his room wondering what I had just agreed to. When I managed to pull myself together, I ventured back down the stairs to rejoin the chatting women in the drawing room below. I stood in the doorway for a moment, mind racing, and then my eyes landed on the bored and irritated expression of my faux friend, Cecily Keene.

"Cecily," I said suddenly and the chatter died down as she turned to look at me. "You said we needed to go shopping?"

She practically leapt to her feet, grateful for the excuse to leave the gossiping women behind, and joined me in the doorway. A call of goodbye over her shoulder and a collection of hats and gloves from the butler later, we found ourselves in the back of a carriage, hurtling towards the West End shopping district.

"So I'll need a new gown for the Kingston ball and I was thinking about a new pair of shoes as well," Cecily was saying as we rode on. "I think-"

"What about jewelry?" I cut in, seeing the opportunity and taking it. "You'll need accessories to match your new gown."

She smiled at me, "I like the way you think, Gwen. We can stop at Abbington's and-"

"Or," I interrupted her. "We could stop at your father's shop. Didn't you say he keeps a stockpile of jewels there that you're free to borrow?"

"Oh yeah. We can try there first."

I smiled and sank back into my seat, trying not to look too relieved by her choice. Ever since Camden had asked me to visit Richard Campbell with him this evening, my mind had been racing for a plan and I thought I had finally formulated one.

I spent the next few hours helping Cecily choose a gown and accessories, listening to all manner of wretched stories about other girls who had the misfortune of crossing Cecily Keene without being rich enough to justify it. She was cold, I was realizing. Calculating and ruthless. I had never met another woman in all my life with such a propensity for evil. She laughed when she mentioned the men she'd seen her father's thugs beat half to death, waved it off when anyone around her questioned the severity of her father's actions, and outright ignored the pleas of those less fortunate than her. She was behaving as if she were the richest heiress in London and perhaps she was. But at her core, she was a shop girl. And someone needed to remind her of that.

I was nearly at my breaking point when we arrived at Keene's Clothiers to select her jewelry. She went straight to the back room without any instruction or questioning. Opening the drawers, she began contemplating which of the fine jewels she should wear. She told me to select some as well and I did, hoping it would hurry the process along. Finally, as she tried on a dazzling diamond necklace, she caught sight of my expression behind her in the mirror.

"Gwen," she started, turning to face me. "Are you feeling unwell? You look positively green."

"Actually, I'm afraid I'm experiencing the onset of the most troubling feminine symptoms. My courses are always bad for me, you see," I explained, pleased at her interpretation of my disgust. "In fact, I've come to know a doctor in the city for that very reason. I should pay a visit to him promptly. Perhaps he can help with the pain."

She wrinkled her nose as she looked down it.

"Now?" she asked.

"I'm afraid so," I answered as kindly as I could. "It shouldn't take long. I can go alone and meet you back at the house afterwards."

She nodded and turned back to inspect the jewels at her neck once more, "Would you like to help me practice how to do my hair for this ball tonight? We can-"

"Actually, I have plans with your brother this evening."

Cecily froze, her shoulders going rigid as she turned again to look at me, this time with narrowed eyes and crossed arms.

"With Camden?" she asked.

I nodded as nonchalantly as I could and stepped forward to straighten the necklace, "For dinner. He asked to take me out."

"Are you interested in my brother?"

"I'm not sure," I answered her blatant question with a shrug. "I could be. He's nice enough, if not overly flirtatious. And I've been advised to give him a chance."

I met her eyes at the last sentence and her lips parted slightly in surprise.

"Father," she whispered after a moment. I did not answer but rather took my things and headed for the door.

"I'll meet you at home," I told her and then strode through the door into the shop beyond.

If there was one thing I had already discovered about Cecily Keene, it was that she did not like to share her toys and, regardless of what I thought about it, she saw me as one of her favorite toys. She wouldn't like the idea of sharing me with Camden and perhaps it could create a bit of tension between doting father and strong-willed daughter if I could plant a seed of doubt there. George Keene would be hearing about his efforts at advising me tonight while we were gone, I was sure of it.

Out on the street, I hailed a cab and gave the driver an address I had become all too familiar with in the past few months and then braced myself for the bumpy ride over the London cobblestones. I paid the man upon our arrival and took the steps as quickly as I could to knock on the door before me. The maid who answered had no questions but merely moved aside to admit me. I gave her a nod and a smile as I entered and made my way through the hall toward the office in the back. I knocked briefly and waited for the signal to enter.

"Come in," it came soon enough.

I pushed through the door, removing my gloves as I did, and found the doctor seated behind his large desk, peering over some files in front of him. He glanced up as I entered and I saw the mark of confusion crease his brows as he stood to greet me.

"Miss Porter," he said, shaking his head to clear his tone of confusion and rushing forward to gesture for me to sit. "Please, sit. What a surprise this is. I wasn't aware we had scheduled another checkup for some weeks. Are you in pain? Do you need-"

"No, doctor," I stopped him, well aware that I had a limited amount of time.

"Your hair," he gasped before I could continue. "Have you changed the color?"

"I'm having trouble sleeping," I told him, ignoring his query. That got his attention and his gaze shot to my face again. "I don't know that it has anything to do with my cut. But I've been thinking about the incident more and more lately and I've just been awake tossing and turning all night."

He nodded somberly at my explanation and I hoped I was selling it as well as I needed to.

"I was told that sometimes doctors have sleeping draughts that they can give patients who are experiencing insomnia," I tried. "Is that something that you would be able to do for me?"

"Oh, sure," he answered in an instant, pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose as he stood and made his way to a cabinet behind his desk. As he opened the drawers and rifled through them, he asked me questions from over his shoulder. "How long have you been having trouble sleeping?"

"A few weeks now."

"Is it every night or off and on?"

"It was infrequent at first but as time's gone on, it's become nearly every night."

He nodded and turned back to face me, a small vial of pale-yellow liquid contained within his fist.

"And you aren't experiencing any pain?" he asked again.

"No," I answered. "No more than usual."

He nodded and handed me the vial. I took it and slid it into my bag with a grateful smile as he offered his instructions.

"Only a drop in your evening tea," he told me. "Half of this would make you sleep for a week and the whole thing would ensure you never wake up."