Silk.

This was the commodity that Jasper's contacts in France were able to acquire for my trade. Apparently, it was becoming the latest trend in the fashion industry and Parisian aristocrats wouldn't be caught dead in any other fabric. Which meant I had a good few months before the trend reached England. Months which I planned to put to good use.

The shipment had been delivered just this morning. In fact, men were still coming in and out of my home, carrying brightly colored bolts of silk and setting them down wherever there was an inch of available space. I watched my investment pile up around me as they came and went, depositing more and more of the material in my foyer, dining room, and drawing room until all three were full and they had to move back to my father's office.

"Mr. Keene," one of the men spoke in a gruff voice and I looked up to find him offering me a slip of paper. I took it with a nod and he and his men left my home, closing the door behind them as they did. I looked down at the note and recognizing Jasper's untidy scrawl the moment I saw it.

200 bolts.

18,000 pounds.

Resell within a fortnight.

Don't botch this, Cam.

I snorted at the personal note added to the end of the invoice and then wandered over to where Samuel stood in the drawing room, taking detailed inventory of every bolt of silk in this house. Size, color, pattern.

"Why silk?" he asked without looking up from his task.

"I got a tip from a friend that it was the next trend from France and expected to be so here soon," I told him, looking over his shoulder at his notes.

"You spent 18,000 pounds on a tip?"

"He's a very trusted friend."

Samuel looked up grinning and then chortled before shaking his head and returning to his work.

"The issue now is what do we do with all of it?" I asked, sweeping out a hand in gesture toward the enormous amount of silk before us. "We could sell some of it, as is, of course. Local shops all throughout the country will be clamoring to get their hands on fine French silk. But we'll want to make use of it ourselves too. Some of it, at least. We make our own garments, each individual, each unique, one of a kind. We use the best we have and create the best we can. They will buy it because they know there is nothing else like it in all the world. Of course, we will need a very talented seamstress to make that dream a reality. Anyone come to mind?"

Samuel's eyes lit up as he understood the opening I was giving him. He opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by the loud slam of the front door as it swung nearly off its hinges. I whirled. Jack and Philip stepped forward to assess the threat as the newcomer stormed into my foyer in a violent rage.

Every breath of air left my lungs at the sight of her.

She was just as I remembered. Those beautiful ringlet curls piled delicately atop her head. Those bright, blazing green eyes darting around in search of the source of her fury. She wore an intricate sage dress that hugged her petite frame in a way that made it difficult to look away from. And when she finally saw me, when our eyes finally locked across the room, she came storming right up to me as if the months away had never happened.

I knew I would see her again. Inviting Samuel here, rejoining society, reaching out with my business, I knew that all of those things would draw me toward her, would raise my chances of seeing her again. But I'd told myself that I could handle it. That there was no sense in avoiding someone so permanently entangled in the city around me. I had been preparing for this moment. But I hadn't prepared enough.

Because even now, even after everything that happened between us, even after fleeing to Australia not to escape the investigation but to escape her, I wasn't ready to face her. Not again. I always thought I would be furious when I saw her again, that her very presence would stir up those old feelings of resentment, of bitter betrayal. But all I could think now, as she came to an abrupt stop in front of me, bridge of her nose wrinkled with rage, was how positively adorable she was when she was angry.

"How dare you hire him for your schemes," she snarled, pointing directly at Samuel who stood only a few feet away and had gone completely still at the sight of his future sister-in-law properly dressing down his new boss. "How dare you come back and pull him into your illegitimate businesses just to get back at me!"

My own fury was rising to meet hers. I could feel it from the tips of my fingers to the roiling in my gut. My jaw set, I rounded on her with equal malice.

"Get back at you?" I growled, rage igniting every nerve. "This is a better opportunity than a boy from his background could possibly hope to expect. It gives him the chance for a far better future than that of a simple merchant. For him and his bride."

I left the rest unsaid. That his bride was likely to be her very own sister.

Her anger dissipated palpably but not entirely. Her shoulders fell slightly as she blinked up at me, those horribly full lips parting in surprise as she backed away and looked at me fully, as if seeing me for the first time.

"You-" she started and then changed course, gaze flicking to Samuel before shooting back to me. "How did you know?"

"They aren't very secretive," I snapped, still annoyed, still frustrated by her presence. "I saw them."

"But why did you- so you did this for me?"

"Not everything is about you, Charlotte," I barked and she flinched. I hated myself immediately but had to continue, had to explain. So I extended my arms in gesture to the two hundred bolts of silk around us. "Everything here is legal. I've purchased these fabrics with my own funds and Samuel and I will sell them with proper contracts and paper invoices."

She looked away from me then, taking in the silk around us and Samuel standing nearby taking inventory, his eyes wide and his jaw nearly unhinged. She blinked and took a step away from me as though she had just noticed how little space there had been between us throughout her tirade. I had noticed. Every fiber of my being had relished it. And when she drew away, the room felt suddenly colder. I had the wild urge to reach for her but, through significant effort, kept my hands firmly at my side.

She's engaged to him, I reminded myself. Not you. It was never going to be you.

"If you hurt him, I'll-" she started to threaten me but her voice cracked.

"You gave me a chance, Charlotte," I reminded her, my own tone softer. I tried to be the Camden she remembered. I wanted to be the Camden she believed in. I wanted that more than anything. "Let me take it."

She swallowed, her throat bobbing with the effort. Then her gaze swiveled once to Samuel before she was turning away and marching back toward the door. She had opened it and stepped through it a moment later.

She left me standing there, surrounded by my silk, feeling as though I'd just run a marathon rather than simply engage in a short bout of verbal sparring. I could finally breathe again when she was gone so I gave a great exhale and allowed my whole body to slump with the expenditure.

Samuel was still blinking in shock. He regained composure enough a few moments later to set his inventory aside and hurry toward the door.

"Charlotte?" he called after her in question as he opened the door and darted out into the clear morning beyond, following after her in his confusion. The poor boy.

I probably should have told him the truth. I probably should have mentioned the connection between us, that he wasn't just some random boy I came across during my shopping and decided to hire. But doing so felt like it might diminish his accomplishments. And I'd meant what I said. Not everything was about Charlotte.

Or so I continued to tell myself.