"A set fee for predetermined security services," I was repeating myself, I realized, and I was tired of doing so. But this was the fifth establishment we had visited today. Jack and Philip stood stoically behind me while I visited the gambling dens and taverns my father had extorted throughout the years to release them from their agreement but attempt to convince them to do true, legal business with me. Unsurprisingly, not many of them were impressed by my offer. More than a few shooed me out the door the moment they understood that I wasn't here to do violence and that my newfound morality gave them the upper hand. So I was growing quite tired of making the same offer again and again only to be shown the door and grumbled about behind my back.

Still, I was doing the right thing and I only had to keep reminding myself of that as I did. Turning my father's revenue streams into legitimate businesses was shaping up to be much harder than I'd thought but that, I presumed, was due more to my own naivety regarding the transactions which had occurred between these seedy business owners and my corrupt father than it was to any mishandling on my part. Apparently, without the immediate threat of violence from myself or my men, these business owners felt they could handle their own security in regards to the rowdy patrons that flowed through their doors every night. Some businesses, mostly ones which my father had not put the screws to during his horrible tenure as crime boss of London, did agree to employ my security services so, thankfully, I had enough work to provide my men.

Regardless, I was thoroughly, mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted from my day out among the gambling dens and taverns by the time I decided to call it quits for the day and Jack, Philip, and I headed back to my family's home. I dismissed my men, telling them to go and have some quality time with their own families, before trudging up to my room and peeling off my vest and cufflinks. I rolled the sleeves of my button up shirt to my elbow and leaned over my desk, sorting through various invoices and purchase orders.

"There you are," a familiar voice said as footsteps sounded on the lush carpet of my room. I didn't have to look up to know it was Sam who entered. "I've been meaning to show you these latest designs of Liza's."

He placed the sketchbook down on top of my desk and I let my eyes roam over it. I lifted the sheet of paper and flipped to the next design, then the next. Each of them was more exquisite than the last.

"Stunning," I said and saw Sam beam on behalf of his beloved at the compliment. "Truly, Sam, she's coming into her own."

I clapped him on the shoulder and he grinned back at me.

"She's never had someone believe in her so fervently," he told me. "She's never had someone give her so much material, so many resources, such control. She's really blossoming for it. I cannot thank you enough, Camden."

I blinked at him and the casual use of my name, my lips quirking up in a smile as I clapped him on the back once more.

"It is my honor to bring such a gifted seamstress to light," I told him. "Now, these purchase orders–"

"Mr.- Camden," Bonnie said from the doorway, correcting herself as she was still rather uncomfortable with calling me by my first name as I had requested from the staff upon my arrival. "There is a man here to see you. A Mr. Ezekiel Buchanan?"

"Ah yes, let him in."

I continued rifling through the papers on my desk until I found the purchase order I had intended to ask Sam about just as Mr. Buchanan entered.

"Mr. Buchanan," I said, smiling in greeting. "I trust it all went well, then?"

"It's all yours, Camden," he answered with a grin of his own. "I'll just be needing the check."

"Ah yes."

I reached for a blank check from the stack on the corner of my desk and wrote out the amount, signing the slip of paper before handing it over to Mr. Buchanan who took it, tipped his hat in farewell, and departed without another word. I turned back to the purchase order, ready to work with Sam, but stopped at the look on his face.

"What?" I asked, narrowing my gaze in recognition of his wide eyes and open mouth.

"That was the entire sum of your cut from the sale of the silk and then some," he told me, stunned. "What was- who was that man?"

"My realtor."

"Realtor..."

Sam paused, looking around the room around us.

"Are you moving?" he asked.

"No," I answered. "Don't worry about it, Sam. It's just a bit of personal business. Nothing which concerns you."

He blinked at me for a moment longer but then finally, slowly, returned to the business at hand. We reviewed the invoices and purchase orders for a few hours before Sam claimed he had to leave to meet with a few more potential investors and I wished him well, watching him leave before turning back to my work. I must have looked through the accounts for another hour before someone else spoke, drawing me suddenly from my reverie and back into reality.

"Did you take me to the ball to make her jealous?"

Every muscle in my body went rigid at the question. My jaw ticked but I reined in my control as I turned slowly in my chair to face where Anne stood in the doorway of my bedroom, hesitating in the threshold as if afraid to find herself alone with me. I narrowed my gaze at her but made a conscious effort to appear calm and unaffected as I answered.

"What would make you ask me such a thing?" I replied, trying in vain to keep the hurt from my voice.

She softened at the tone, her shoulders slumping.

"I was there when Sam invited you to the engagement party," she reminded me. "I saw how you reacted and, when Elena forced Charlotte to show me the ring, I put two and two together. So is that why you brought me here? Is that why you went to all that trouble? Am I just a connection to her? Someone to parade around town on your arm so that she might see, so that she might be jealous?"

"No," I answered abruptly. Then I cleared my throat and tried again. "My coming to France to get you had nothing to do with her, with any of them. I meant what I said. What happened to you was wrong. I wanted to right it. I wouldn't have even taken you to that ball last night if you didn't want to go. But Sam seemed to think you should have the opportunity to reenter society as I had and how could I deny you the chance? I hadn't even considered what she might think of it. Though, I will admit that seeing Alexander so pissed off was an unintended perk."

Anne watched me for a moment, that same unreadable expression etched in every line of her face. Then, she began to smile, and I found myself stunned to see it. Her lips spread wide into an amused grin and then she snorted, actually snorted a laugh, and I couldn't help but grin along like a fool with her.

"You know, there was a time that I thought I might love Alexander Langley," she said then but her tone wasn't dreamy, it wasn't romantic or hopeful. It was just matter-of-fact like the way someone might discuss a storm the previous evening or an article they'd read.

"Really?" I asked, genuinely interested, as I leaned back in my seat, stretching out my legs and crossing them at the ankles. She smiled and shook her head, her unbound auburn hair falling into her face. She wore her hair down more than any woman I had ever known. There was something wild about it, something free.

"Well, Elena thought I might love him. And I tried. For her sake, I tried. She had this grand idea that we might someday be sisters and I was an only child, a female at that. I could use the security that a match with Alexander Langley provided. But he simply wasn't for me."

"Not into blondes?"

She laughed outright at that.

"Something like that," she mused, crossing her own legs as she turned to go. Her hand lingered on the wood as she smirked back at me. "More that he was too... safe. I've always been more of a risktaker myself."

Then she grinned, utterly and wholly, and let her eyes sweep over me once more before striding down the hall, her skirts swishing against her hips.

I blinked after her long after she had disappeared. Had Anne Withersby been... flirting with me?