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More importantly, his mood had shifted from that of the hunted to that of the hunter. He was thoughtful and quiet during this time, as if deep in contemplation.

“Tell me,” he asked Leila each morning, “everything you know about the Brotherhood.”

And Leila repeated the same thing each time.

This time, she took a sip of her tea, contemplating her answer. “I haven’t remembered anything new. As I told you, I didn’t even know that’s what they were called until you told me.”

“How about the men you met through the Cardinal?”

Leila flinched; her encounters with those men had not been pleasant. “I don’t know which ones were part of the Brotherhood and which weren’t.”

“You never noticed a mark of the crimson fist on their bodies?”

She shook her head. “Most of the time, I dealt with him alone. I called him The Cardinal.” That was all she knew.

Gideon leaned forward, resting his elbows on the small wooden table. “What does he look like?”

Leila closed her eyes briefly, summoning the haunting image. “Taller than average, but shorter than you. Dark hair, dark eyes…” She opened her eyes to find Gideon’s jaw clenched in frustration.

“Well, that’s helpful,” he said, laced with sarcasm.

Heat surged in her chest. “You don’t believe me?”

“You’re not giving me anything useful to believe or disbelieve.” His tone was flat and measured, yet she sensed the underlying doubt.

Leila set down her cup. “Your tone suggests you don’t believe me when I say I don’t know anything.”

“Well, you’re not being particularly helpful, are you?” Gideon pushed back from the table and stood, the chair scraping against the floor. “After years—over a decade spent under their thumb—you should remember more.”

Leila rose as well, her hands clenched at her sides. Why the sudden hostility and mistrust? “They were very careful. I know little.” She forced herself to meet his accusing gaze. “I know the Cardinal spent years in Europe and only recently arrived in London.”

Gideon let out a harsh laugh. “Well, that includes a few dozen lords—and more if we count untitled men.”

“If you give me a list and describe them, perhaps I can eliminate a few,” she offered, desperation creeping into her voice.

He began pacing the floor, the borrowed breeches clinging a little too tightly to his form, his shirt open at the collar and tightening around his shoulders.

“Most prominently, one particular lord was absent for over a year recently,” Gideon said, his steps never faltering. “Reportedly abducted, but his escape story was a bit far-fetched. His name was associated with several businesses linked to the Brotherhood, but I had no definitive proof he was one of them.” He paused mid-stride and turned to her, tilting his head toward the spot where her own mark of the black fist lay hidden. “He has no mark on his body either.”

“Perhaps they only mark their subordinates, and you have been eliminating the wrong people all this time,” she suggested.

“No. I do my due diligence.”

“Like you did with me?” she challenged.

“I made quite a few mistakes regarding you, obviously,” he said through gritted teeth.

Leila wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite the warmth from the hearth. He was extremely irritable today. It seemed to her that with him, she took one step forward in their trust, only to take three steps back the next day.

“Who is this man?” she asked, trying to regain her composure.

“Lord Payne. You were at his musicale when you saw me kill Norfolk,” he said casually.

Recognition dawned, and Leila shook her head. “Oh, that Lord Payne. No, he is not the Cardinal. He doesn’t seem like someone who would be associated with the Cardinal either.”

Gideon’s eyes narrowed, studying her face as if he could divine the truth from her expression alone.

Leila shook her head. “You’re doubting me.”