"Camden."

It had been a few years since I'd seen Jasper Rouse but he hadn't changed at all. He had the same unkempt sandy brown hair that stuck out in all directions, the same dimpled grin and bright green eyes. The same nervous but eager energy surrounding him as he smiled broadly and stepped through his door to embrace me on the step just outside. As he clapped me on the back and steered me into his home, I couldn't help but smile at reuniting with an old friend. Jack and Philip remained in the street outside, having been assured that I was in no danger in Jasper's presence. They leaned against the iron gate of his tri level brownstone, watching the neighbors pass by and glaring at them in defiance as if daring them to attempt to breach Jasper's home. Most of them, I noticed through the windows as Jasper settled me onto an armchair and took the one opposite me, crossed the street and took up their stroll on the other side to avoid my men.

"Not that I'm not thrilled you stopped by," Jasper started, still grinning as he nodded toward a servant who had paused to drop off a tray containing a teapot and several cups, "but I must say I'm rather surprised. Much like everyone else, I read the newspapers as well. I thought you'd fled to Australia."

I frowned. Fled. Was that what the aristocracy thought I'd done?

"I took a sabbatical," I said simply. "Now I'm back."

"Without your father," Jasper added, keen eyes narrowed upon me. I could fool nearly anyone but I could not fool Jasper Rouse. That fact alone was the foundation of our friendship.

"Without my brothers and my sister as well. Even my mother has been sent away to a women's home out in the country."

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

"You know me better than anyone, Jas," I said, raising a brow. "Do you really think I've fallen?"

"Knew," he corrected, wiggling a finger at me. "Let's not forget you ceased all communication with me when we were nineteen, Camden."

My jaw clenched. Of course, I hadn't forgotten.

"I was young and foolish," I told him. "I didn't recognize our friendship for the gem it was. I thought I could keep you out of trouble, out of George Keene's realm of influence, if I kept you at arm's length."

"We were always in trouble before, Camden."

"Shoplifting and teenage vandalism. Not anything substantial. Not anything like what my father had me doing. I won't hide it from you now. You've read the papers. You know what he was capable of."

Jasper's smile faltered and something like sorrow flashed in those green eyes. I looked down to my tea to avoid seeing it there.

"The fact of the matter is that I'm rebuilding," I said, forging on, not allowing myself to stop long enough to lose my nerve. Jasper deserved an apology from me and he would get it but not before I said what I had come here to say. I feared if I didn't get it out now, I never would. "Legitimizing my father's business. I've got his client list, his books, his accounts. I'm making use of them, offering legal services, selling goods on the up and up. I- you were always a good influence on me. Even when we were acting like common criminals, you had the good sense to know when enough was enough, to pull me back from going too far. If I hadn't abandoned you, I might not have done all that I did for him. You would have stopped me. You would have known when to stop me. I know I can't possibly ask for anything from you, not after what I did, but I'm trying, Jas. Damn it, I'm really trying here. And I think that, with you, maybe it could be better. If you helped, I might- well, I might not fail again."

I sucked in a breath once I'd finished, feeling foolish for all that I had disclosed, all the vulnerabilities I had confessed to this man I hadn't seen in years. But it had always been that way with Jas. I could be honest with him, could tell him things I didn't even tell my family, could express my feelings, my opinions, without fearing retribution, without being mocked. To everyone else, to all of society, I was the brooding Camden Keene, the mysterious enigma of calm, cool, and collected. But to Jas, I was just Camden, sometimes Cam. Just his friend. Just me. I'd missed that.

"Is this because of the girl?" he asked suddenly, his voice soft, gentle.

My gaze snapped up to find him already looking at me, teacup settled onto the table between us, penetrating gaze locked onto my own. My jaw ticked and I looked away, back down to my tea, too much of a coward to talk about her. Too afraid to look him in the eye when he asked about her.

"I read about her too," he said, almost whispering as if afraid he might crack open my soul by speaking too loudly, "in the newspaper. They said she solved it herself, gathered the evidence against your family and got them all locked up. I don't think the reporters were supposed to know that. No one can manage to get a statement from her about it. But it's out there. And I had to wonder why she would have given everyone up but you. Especially given how close the two of you were last year."

My eyes snapped up again.

"I get invited to parties too, Camden," he told me. "Though I don't usually go. I did once, though, and I saw you. Both of you. You looked so... happy. I was glad to see it."

My jaw ticked again and I turned my attention to the ornate fireplace beside us, staring at the dead wood inside for so long that I began to wonder if I could light it simply with the intensity of my glare.

"She played you," he said and my fists clenched at my sides. "She broke your heart. But she saved you too, Cam. You're still here, still free. They're not. That's got to count for something. Maybe, if you went to see her–"

"She's engaged to someone else."

Jasper blinked at me, his lips parting slightly.

"That's..." he started, trailing off. He cursed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Cam. Really, I am. That's shite."

"That's not why I came here," I told him, my voice coming out harsher than I'd planned. I sighed, calming myself, and then spoke again. "I hear you've made quite the reputable businessman of yourself."

"Indeed, I have," Jasper said with a smile. "You're hear to tear that reputation to shreds, I imagine?"

"Legitimate business, Jas. As I said, I'm going legal. I require your expertise."

"The Keene name is ruined."

"So we reinvent it."

"Your money is tainted."

"So we spend it."

"You're serious about this."

"What choice do I have? My reputation is in tatters, my friends have all abandoned me, I've got the Chief Detective watching every move I make. It's either I turn the wealth my father has left me, questionable or not, into a legitimate business, or I allow myself to be destroyed. Just tell me the industry, Jasper, and I will invest."

My oldest friend watched me for a moment, his eyes narrowed in suspicion as he pondered my words. He crossed his legs at the ankles, leaned back, and took a good long look at me. This was no longer old friends catching up. This was a business meeting and he had the upper hand. We both knew it.

"If there was one thing your father did well, it was textiles," he informed me. "Keene's Clothier's might have been a front for his other, shadier dealings but the man still made a fine suit. That commitment to quality is unparalleled anywhere else in London. His absence has left a void. Fill it."

"Clothes?" I asked, surprised.

"I've got some contacts in France. They're knowledgeable about the latest fashions. You still own the shop, yes?"

"I do."

"Rebrand it. New sign, new name, new style. Camden's Clothiers if you don't want Keene in the title. Or something else entirely. It doesn't matter. Bring the French trends to England. Dress the gentlemen of society in your clothes. Make a name for yourself again. No more fronts. No more illegitimate side businesses. A luxury brand."

"I'm offering legal security services to businesses in the city as well."

"Fine. But keep it separate. Become the brand, Cameron. Society is already talking about you. Use it to your advantage. I'll get you the designs. You make them. You wear them. They talk about them. That's all you need."

I nodded, thinking it all over. It was a good idea. Keep Keene's Clothiers, make it my own, expand it and rebrand it. It was genius.

"And for the love of God, Camden, get yourself a real bookkeeper, someone who can tell the police you've gone straight and have the paperwork to back it up."

I nodded slowly, thinking about the office I nearly set foot in only three days ago. Before I could respond, Jasper was rising to his feet, extended his hand.

"I'll reach out to France," he told me, that friendly smile back on his face as I reached out and took his hand. "It was good to see you again, Cam. Let's make it a common occurrence."

"Agreed," I answered with a smile of my own.

And then I stepped out of Jasper Rouse's home and took the steps back down to the street and my men waiting just beyond. They didn't ask about my visit. They never did. But I saw the look they exchanged at the grin on my face all the same and we fell into companionable conversation all the way back to my family home. Bonnie, the maid, was waiting for me when I entered yet again.

"Bonnie?" I asked as another servant took my hat and coat and walked away to put them away.

"You have a visitor, sir," she told me and I could tell, from the paleness of her face, that I wasn't going to like whoever it was. "He waits in your father's old office."

I frowned and thanked her, taking a step forward toward the office. Jack and Philip moved to follow but I waved them off and went alone. Cliff Greerson was seated behind my father's desk, arms stretched out and hands clasped behind his head, when I arrived. My jaw clenched as I stood in the doorway, watching him with narrowed eyes.

"You know, I've always wondered what it would be like to sit back here."

"What are you doing here, Greerson?" I asked bitterly, trying to keep the revulsion from my tone even as I glared at him.

"Your father has requested a visit, boy."

My throat went dry at the knowledge that George Keene still had men loyal to him even from prison, that Cliff Greerson, one of the more brutal of my father's cronies, was still doing his dirty work even now. I didn't want this man in my home. I didn't even want him in my city. But I crossed my arms and affected that same cool countenance I adopted when dealing with all men of his class.

"I will go to him," I lied.

"When?" He ground out.

"When I'm ready."

"Wrong answer."

He snapped and two men stepped up behind me from the shadows. I glanced over them slowly, recognizing them each in turn, and wasn't surprised by their presence. I'd seen them the moment I entered the room, known that Greerson was planning to use force to accomplish whatever his goal here was. But it was worth it for the information I'd gained. Greerson was still a threat, still following my fathers orders, and others were too.

Jack and Philip would beat themselves up when they realized I'd been taken. But I would be back and, perhaps, I'd know more about what we were up against when I returned. So I would let Greerson drag me back to the jail, let him think he'd won this round, and survive a simple conversation with my father. George Keene could play these games all he wanted. He could threaten me, grab for power, move the pieces in play around the city. None of it mattered because one truth reigned over all the lies and hypocrisy.

At the end of the day, he was in there and I was out here.

There was no reason to fear him. Not anymore.