It was still rubble. All these months later, still nothing remained of Porter's Bookshelf but ash and twisted metal. Something in my gut wound tight at the sight of it and did not alleviate the entire time I stood on the street, staring at the burnt wallpaper fluttering in the breeze, the dusty stones crushed underfoot, broken spines of books that her family had spent a lifetime collecting only to serve as no more than kindling at the hands of my father. I saw the sign in the front, letters half burned away, leaning against the building next door as if someone had tried to salvage it and gave up only moments later.

My father ruined her life.

For the first time, I could see what she meant. This was her family's livelihood, their pride and joy, their only means of survival. And he had taken it from them for some petty debt. He had burned away everything she had ever known in an evening. And she had been brave enough to go straight to the police to report it. Or at least, to start to report it. I couldn't help but wonder what had stopped her.

"Looking to purchase the property?" someone asked and I turned to find a vaguely familiar looking man standing at my side. His hands were on his hips and his eyes squinted against the sunlight as he eyed the pile of rubble in front of us.

"Is it for sale?" I replied.

His lips fell into a frown at that.

"Not officially," he confessed. "I know the owner. He's attached but... could be convinced. For the right price."

He glanced my way then and his eyes widened a fraction in recognition.

"I know you," he said. "You're Camden Keene."

Just that like, my foul mood returned.

"Good day, sir," I said, starting to walk away.

"Wait, I'm Jonathan Birmingham. I've owned the shop next to yours for years."

I hesitated. He knew me because of my father's shop, because of Keene's Clothiers, not because of everything that had been in the news about my family lately. At least, not only because of that. I turned to face him again.

"I don't think we've ever been properly introduced," he claimed, holding out a hand for me to shake. I did. "You were always so busy coming and going."

"Indeed," I said, noncommittally. I still wasn't sure what he was about and I preferred to stay on my guard around new men I met until I could be sure of their intentions.

"Trying to expand your business then?" he asked, jerking his chin back over his shoulder to the ruined lot where Porter's Bookshop used to stand. He asked it jovially enough but I could sense the hint of fear in the question. He was a businessman, after all, a competing merchant. If Keene's Clothiers were to expand, we could very well run him out of business.

"Do you know what happened here?"

"Unfortunately. I was close with the family, you see. In fact, the man's middle daughter, Charlotte, and I were engaged once."

My fists clenched involuntarily at my sides and I grit my teeth to keep from speaking as he continued.

"Her dad got into some gambling debt once their mother died," he told me. "Owed a bunch of money to, as it turns out, your father. One night, some thugs came to collect and Mr. Porter couldn't pay. Next thing I know, the whole building's in flames and Charlotte's running right through the door. Comes out a few minutes later, dragging her father and sister along, all of them coughing and covered in soot. It was too late by the time the fire brigade arrived. All they could do was contain it and let it burn down."

I stared at the ash in front of me in awe. I'd surmised enough of what had happened. Her father owed mine and he didn't pay. I knew what George Keene did to those indebted to him who couldn't pay him back. I wasn't surprised that he had sent men to destroy their only means of doing so. But I hadn't known that she had run straight into the flames to save her family. I hadn't known that they had been caught inside during the blaze. I hadn't known how close she had come to nearly dying because of my father.

I couldn't speak. I was too afraid that, if I did, I would become overwhelmed by my anger. It was easier to stay silent and brood on what I'd learned. I prayed that Greerson wouldn't show up again to drag me back to that jail because I wasn't sure I could be held accountable for my actions if I ever saw my father's face again. I might just kill him and end up right back in there myself.

I walked away from Jonathan Birmingham. He called after me but I ignored him. I probably should have thanked him for answering my questions, for telling me what happened, but I couldn't help but be annoyed at how easily he had told her story to the first stranger who happened to ask. Maybe she didn't want it out there. She had been tight lipped about it enough as it was. And, for someone who had once been engaged to her, he should have cared about her enough to respect that. But then again, there was a reason the engagement between them had ended. I didn't let myself dwell on what that might be.

Instead, I made my way back into down, determined to finish what I started here before. I still needed a proper advisor, a real, professional bookkeeper, and only one name sprung to mind, only one man who I knew for a fact was not in my father's pocket. So, sometime later, I found myself staring at that same name engraved upon the frost-paned door. But this time, I actually stepped inside.

A dark-haired woman was sitting at reception. She looked up at me with a warm, welcoming smile.

"Good afternoon," she said in greeting. "What can I do for you?"

I glanced sideways where two men already waited in the patented leather green chairs in the corner.

"I'm considering offering my business to Mr. Harrison," I told her. "I'd like to meet with him before I make my determination."

"Certainly, sir," she said, sitting up straighter, eagerly. "If you'll just give me your name, you can take a seat just over there with the others and Mr. Harrison will get to you as soon as he can."

I thanked her and gave her the information she requested before striding over to the waiting room and taking a seat there. I didn't have to wait long at all until Nathaniel Harrison was striding from within his office with an older man in tow, assuring him that he would take care of the business they discussed and seeing him on his way. His receptionist rushed over to give him a small note, likely containing the name of his next client, and he nodded once in thanks before turning his attention to those of us waiting beyond his office door. He was smiling broadly, every inch a man thriving in his element, until he saw me.

The light in his eyes guttered out immediately. His smile faltered and fell to a frown. Even his jaw clenched slightly. I just held his gaze until he tore his eyes away and replaced his smile to redirect at the man beside me.

"Mr. Purcell," he said in greeting. "A delight to see you again. Please, right this way."

His gaze passed over me once more as he led the older gentleman into his office and I saw every muscle in his body go rigid before he disappeared, closing his door behind him. I sighed when he was gone, knowing this was about to be just as difficult as I feared.

I waited for at least half an hour, a fault of my own for having come without an appointment, but finally when Nathaniel Harrison emerged from his office, saying his goodbyes to his latest client, there was no one but me waiting to greet him. He actually sighed when he saw me sitting alone in that waiting room.

"Camden," he said my name curtly and I rose, striding across the room and joining him in the threshold. He gave me a wide berth as we entered his office, much less friendly than he had been with the others, as if he were afraid that if he got too close, I might knife him. Perhaps he really did. I couldn't be certain of how far my penknife stabbing story had traveled after all. He waited until I was settled into my chair and he in his before he spoke again. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

By his tone, I could tell that my presence was anything but pleasurable for him but I sat up straight and prepared myself for negotiation anyway.

"I find myself in need of your professional expertise, Mr. Harrison," I explained.

He watched me carefully as I spoke, his gaze narrowed in examination as if he could determine which of my words were drenched in falsehood just by watching them exit my lips.

"My expertise?" he asked, incredulous. "Why?"

"I'm running a business I never intended to take over," I informed him. "I'm in over my head when it comes to record keeping. I've never had a taste to keeping the books. And this time, I really need them to all balance out properly. I'm sure Charlotte has told you of my intentions of legitimizing my family's business interests?"

"Charlotte doesn't speak of you," he quipped, wounding me more than he could possibly know. "None of us do."

"Well," I said, maintaining my composure despite my aching heart. "Allow me to explain myself then. I have every intention of using my father's disreputable fortune to create something meaningful, legal, good. I need good, proper men who have no history with my father to assist me in my endeavors. I believe you to be such a man."

"There isn't a man in this city without a history with George Keene. And I am not the exception."

He was standing already, rebuttoning his jacket as he led me to the door.

"You aren't willing to hear my proposal?" I asked, stunned. "Not at all?"

"Not at all," he informed me. "For your sake, Camden Keene, I hope what you claim about your intentions to legitimize your businesses are true. But I cannot, in good conscience, allow myself to be allied with you in any way. If not for the love of my best friend, then for the sanity of my wife. Your family has hurt a great number of people in this city, Mr. Keene. I hope that you are able to make what amends for those deeds you can. I hope many of them forgive you. But I have not. Good day, sir."

I was seething when I left Nathaniel Harrison's office. I told myself it was because he let me wait all that time, knowing that he wasn't going to entertain a single word out of my mouth, but truly it was because of what he had said and the way he had said it. So calm, so matter-of-fact, so logical, and so true. Every word he said had been true and, what's worse, I respected him for saying it. When so many others weren't willing to stand against me, or my father, even now, he had held his ground. He had denied me no matter what I had intended to offer. He had shielded his business with his principals so that I knew, with frustrating clarity, that he was precisely the man I needed to lead my finances and precisely the sort of man who never would.

"Camden?" someone asked, their high voice carrying over the busy street to meet me. I almost didn't hear the woman in my state of agitation but she repeated herself, louder this time. "Camden Keene, is that you?"

I looked up to find none other than Felicity Walsh standing on the corner, smiling broadly my way. Her ever present, Elizabeth Herbert stood faithfully by her side. Muttering under my breath, I crossed the street and managed to fake an engaging smile long enough to interact with them.

"We had heard you'd returned but hadn't seen you at any of the gatherings this season," Felicity was saying, already batting her eyes wildly as she always did when speaking to eligible bachelors of marrying age.

"I've been too busy for socialization," I informed her and it wasn't entirely a lie.

"Still, a man needs to interact with his peers, yes?" she asked, raising a brow and, though I knew I would hate myself for it later, I smiled along conspiratorially with her. "The Cochrans are having a ball this evening. You should come. I know how thrilled everyone would be to see you again."

I doubted that. But because I was still furious about Nathaniel Harrison's rejection, because I was still reeling from a morning uncovering my own family's insidious deeds, and because I could think of nothing better than getting positively sloshed and spending an evening among vain and evil people just like me, I agreed.