I stared at the letter in my hands that Harold had brought by this morning when he had come to check on my progress and read it for the third time, heart aching at the distance by which it had traveled.

Charlotte,

I'm sure you've heard by now that we've made it to America. I don't know how dangerous it is for you to receive letters or if this one will even make it to you. But I thought you should know how things are going here. We've met with Hubbard and he's taking the three of us to the most recently robbed bank in the morning. Alex seems determined, more so than I've ever seen him. It's got me worried I won't be able to keep him from returning for the time that you need to handle your side of the bargain. He remains vigilant and focused on the task at hand during the day, but I find him sitting on the edge of camp at night, staring out at the river. I can tell he misses home. I can tell he misses you.

I hope you're having some success on your end. Any update would be greatly appreciated. As always, stay safe.

Your friend,

Jake

I opened the nightstand next to my bed and placed the letter inside with a sigh. It was the first communication I'd had with anyone who had left for America and I cherished it as my only connection to them, as a reminder of why I was doing this. Just as much as I valued the letters that Harold had brought me from Liza who had promised to write me every day when I had told her I was leaving for America with my employer for a few weeks. I hated lying to my family just as much as I hated lying to Alexander. But it was for the best. For all of them.

I stood from my bed and crossed to the mirror, checking my hair and my gown before gathering my things and heading out of the apartment, on my way back to business with a renewed desire to see it through. The sooner I could bring down the Keene family dynasty, the sooner my loved ones would be returned to me. There was no greater motivation.

I made my way to the Keene Family Clothiers on the edge of the merchant's district and felt a surge of familiarity at the tinkling of the bell that chimed above the door as I entered. I paused in the doorway, taking a deep breath to both steel myself for whatever I was about to face and to take in the bustling of the shop floor around me. In the middle of it all, leaning over the counter that dominated the central area of the shop and smiling over to me, was Camden Keene himself. When my eyes met his, I forced a smile and made my way over, wishing that his presence had been more of a comfort than it was.

"Miss Marlowe," he drawled in greeting as I approached, allowing a wandering eye to appraise me from my hair to my toes. "What brings you in on this lovely morning?"

"I'm dreadfully bored sitting alone in my boarding house and find myself in need of some... entertainment," I raised a brow as I let my eyes do an appraisal of their own. His gaze hardened and I saw a look of desire within it. I leaned forward and asked. "Is Cecily here?"

His shoulders slumped in an instant when he realized we were not considering the same form of entertainment. In a show of dramatics, his hand flew to his heart and he cried out. "Just like that, my heart shatters!"

I chuckled at the theatrics.

"Gwen," someone called my name, interrupting us, and I turned to see Cecily poking her head out of a door toward the back. She smiled broadly and waved for me to join her. I slipped away from the counter, breaking eye contact with her brother slowly before joining her in the back room of the Keene's Clothiers. I fought hard to suppress my shock when I saw what awaited me. "Father's got the most exquisite jewels for me to choose from!"

He did indeed. I stepped forward, looking the long table covered in diamonds up and down. I reached out and brushed a gloved hand against a thick set necklace and watched it glint in the light. It was real, I was almost certain, and worth at least twenty times the whole of my father's collective gambling debts. And yet it was only one in the collection. All manner of earrings, bracelets, pendants, and necklaces were arranged in no particular order before us. Made of diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. Some even of pearl and one of amber.

My lips must have parted because Cecily grasped my hand in her own and squealed. "Aren't they beautiful?"

I met her eyes and nodded, smiling as genuinely as I could manage.

"They're breathtaking," I answered honestly and she wriggled out of my grasp and snatched the nearest pair of earrings. Emerald and so weighty I feared they might stretch her earlobes. She seemed to have no such reservations as she took them and headed for the mirror on the opposite side of the room to try them on. I stared down at the jewels and tried to formulate a way of asking the question most on my mind. "Cecily."

"Hmm?"

"How does your father- I mean, where does he get them?"

"The jewels?" she asked and I nodded, holding up a ruby pendant and examining it in the light. It looked eerily familiar. Why was that? "Well, some of them he buys for me, some of them he trades and lets me pick the ones I like before he resells them to his own customers."

I glanced over to the sapphire bracelet at the end of the table. I knew I had seen that one before. With a sudden surge of realization, I set the pendant down and stepped away from the table. Police files. I had seen sketches of these jewels alongside descriptions in the police files that Ryland had shown me in his home.

"And sometimes," Cecily continued. I did not miss the way in which her voice lowered. I looked up, breathing harder, to find her dark eyes pinned upon me, "he takes them."

I met her gaze and swallowed.

"Takes them?" I asked.

"My father manages debts," she continued, returning to fastening her earrings though I noticed she was still watching me carefully as she explained. "For all sorts of people and for all sorts of reasons. Sometimes they cannot pay. At least, not with money."

I stared down at all of the jewels laid out before me. So many of them. Was this how many wealthy men were beholden to George Keene? Were there more? Suddenly, I could feel my heart beating against my corset. I took a breath. I felt her eyes upon me. She was still watching. And suddenly I understood why. This was a test. Dipping my toe into the waters of the true Keene family business. Cecily didn't have many friends. How many had failed this test before?

I wouldn't. Determined, I reached for a beautiful gold chained emerald necklace and approached her where she stood in front of the mirror. I smiled from behind her as I raised the article and draped it around her neck.

"Your earrings should have their match," I said simply and she smiled back at me in the reflection.

"Camden likes you," she said suddenly. I just turned away from her and went back to the table, pretending to be infatuated with the accessories laid out before me but truly doing my best to memorize the look and feel of each one so that I may describe them for Ryland at a later date.

"I've noticed," I answered offhand.

"He isn't used to not getting what he wants," she told me. I looked up to find her turned around, watching me entirely now.

"I gathered that."

She smiled and then nodded toward the pile. "Pick a few out."

"What?"

"A necklace, maybe a bracelet. A pair of earrings if you wish. We're going out tonight."

"Out where?"

The only answer I received was Cecily Keene's signature mischievous smile.

An hour later, I found myself in a ballroom which rivaled the Keene's own in opulence, surrounded by members of a class I could only pretend to be a part of. The atmosphere of this party, though, was much different from that of the twin's birthday. The lights were dimmed, the decor dark, the music soft and somber. People were behaving far more casually and far more bawdily. Upon our entrance, I had noted a couple pressed firmly against one another against a nearby wall. They were still there now, even as I sat on an otherwise unoccupied sofa in the back of the drawing room. But no one was paying them any mind, simply walking past as if they were not there.

Of course, lust was not the only of the seven deadly sins on display here as I had learned upon the brief tour Cecily had given me when we had arrived, ending abruptly when she was invited to a game of cards and took the only remaining seat, leaving me to wander about alone through the debauchery. I was uncomfortable and fighting very hard not to show it. This was another test, I could feel it, and it was of dire importance that I reason out how to pass.

But I wasn't sure what she wanted from me. She had abandoned me. She would not have even known if I had already left. And I could have. But that felt like a failure somehow. So I forced myself to remember why I was doing this. Touching the stolen gems at my throat, I focused hard on their names. Victoria, Benjamin, Liza, my father, Alexander. I closed my eyes and took a breath. I could do this.

I stood from the couch and pushed my way through the bodies of young, uninhibited fools to the gambling going on upstairs. Cecily still sat at the table, laughing heartily at something the man next to her had said. My eyes were drawn to his arm as it was draped around her shoulders. She leaned into him and slipped a bit. Drunk, then. I sighed.

"Cecily," I said and she looked up to find me, smiling across the crowd.

"Gwen," she answered serenely, "you stayed."

"For not much longer," I told her. "It's getting quite late."

"Ah, yes," she answered, glancing at the pocket watch in the pile of her winnings. I wondered who she had taken that from. Then she used her arms to scoop everything up and drop it into her bag. She stood then and wobbled on her feet. I rushed forward to steady her.

She muttered a thanks and shouted a goodbye as I helped her down the stairs and to the street below. I called for a carriage and helped her into it when it came.

"Did you enjoy the party, Gwen?" she asked with a hiccup as we jolted off toward the Keene estate.

"It was interesting to say the least," I answered. "You seemed to be quite at home in that establishment. Does your father own it as well?"

"No. Some nobleman or other does. But my father owns him."

I opened my mouth to ask what she meant by that but she suddenly wrenched the window open and poked her head outside to vomit all over the passing cobblestones. I just patted her back and sat quietly, wondering what part of this had been my test? And if she were sober enough to remember whether I had passed at all.

As the carriage came to a stop, I helped Cecily out and allowed her to lean heavily on me as I made my way to the door of her family home. It should have tipped me off when no butler arrived to open the door for us. I should have known something was amiss when I had to turn the doorknob and push into the foyer myself. But the thought never crossed my mind. Not until the door flew open and I saw the scene awaiting us in the hall beyond.

The Keene brothers stood in a semicircle, each of them more disheveled than the last. Camden met my eyes first. His tie was gone, his shirt unbuttoned, and his hair tousled. My gaze fell from him to the man in front of him, in front of them all. Tied to one of their ornate dining chairs and beaten bloody was a man I did not recognize. George Keene knelt in front of him, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, blood spray on his collar, and fists a grisly mess.