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“I was never in love with her. And although her lips might have been full…” His eyes found hers and held them. “I’d like to believe that merely having appealing features is not enough to fall in love with someone. There needs to be more—much more.”

Leila looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. Yes, there needs to be trust and respect. Neither of those did Gideon feel toward her. They were worlds away from love.

He cleared his throat, breaking the spell. “But yes, I know Lord Roth; he is a painter. I looked into him when I suspected everyone of being part of the Brotherhood. He is not one of them, although he spent a lot of time in France, which meets one of the criteria for him being the Cardinal, as I know the Cardinal also spent considerable time on the Continent. And now you confirm that theory.” His voice grew eager. “Perhaps we can see him, and you’ll tell me if I’m wrong. If I am not, we can explore his gallery and see if you recognize anyone else.”

The plan made sense, but anxiety crept up Leila’s spine. “How are we going to get into his house without being detected by the Brotherhood?”

Gideon tapped his chin with his finger, his eyes distant as he worked through the problem. “I don’t know if we can go into London without being noticed. Maybe we can get him to come out—” He shook his head. “No, that wouldn’t be helpful. I can’t send anyone a note without the risk of being seen by unwanted figures. I can’t go to Mayfair, or even close, without being detected, especially on horseback. And I can’t get a carriage from here.” He paused and shook his head. “We need help.”

He began pacing again, more purposefully this time. “From someone who lives on the outskirts of town. Someone who is not a peer but has connections to them and a network of people willing to do their bidding. And someone incorruptible, who would not sell us out…”

He paused mid-stride, his face lighting up with sudden inspiration. A slow smile spread across his features—sharp and calculating. “I know exactly who we need.”

Chapter 22

Gideon had said they needed to be discreet, so Leila fashioned a cloak and a couple of masks from an old curtain she’d found in the trunk. She did her best with needle and thread, though her handiwork was far from perfect.

Now, as they left the tower for the first time in a week, she wore a shirt and breeches that were too large for her, an uneven cloak, and a mask.

Their time in the tower had been strange—a peculiar interlude of domesticity amid the chaos of their lives. It had been nice, even pleasant, to spend days with Gideon when he wasn’t in one of his irritable moods.

Most of the time, he was attentive and caring. They talked about various topics that didn’t pertain to the Brotherhood or their pasts—books, philosophy, and the way sunlight fell through the narrow windows at different hours. They read books that Leila had found in a small library just behind the larder, taking turns reading aloud by firelight. And they healed, both in body and spirit.

But it was the nights that tormented her most. Leila found herself sleeping closer to him each night, drawn by his warmth and the steady rhythm of his breathing. Yet Gideon hadn’t made a move to touch her, not even brushing her hand in passing.

Perhaps he’d lost interest in her, though she had noticed the contrary in the way he looked at her.

She decided not to dwell on it now. She needed to save Emir. That was all that mattered.

They stopped by a dark, small building on the outskirts of town. The structure seemed to lean inward, as if keeping secrets. Gideon led her around to the side, his fingers finding a loose board that swung open to reveal a hidden entrance. He moved with confidence, quickly locating a door that led to a narrow corridor between the walls.

The space was cramped and smelled of old wood and something else—wax, perhaps?

“How do you know this place so well?” Leila whispered.

“I was watching it for a few nights,” he answered quietly, as if that explanation sufficed.

Watching for what? Or whom? But she didn’t press him.

They made their way through the building via this hidden passage, then stepped out from the walls through another concealed panel. After a couple of steps down a dimly lit hallway, they found themselves face to face with a tall woman in a seductive garment that left little to the imagination. She wore a towering white wig adorned with ribbons and feathers, and her face was painted with rouge and kohl, making her eyes appear enormous in the lamplight.

The woman looked them up and down, her painted lips curving into a professional smile. “Can I offer you a private room?” she asked, her voice honeyed and inviting.

Leila felt heat rise in her cheeks and looked away, suddenly fascinated by the ornate wallpaper.

“I’d like to meet your owner,” Gideon said confidently.

The woman’s smile faltered slightly. “I’m afraid that is not possible. The owner is not taking guests.”

“She will take us,” Gideon insisted, stepping closer to the woman. He leaned in and whispered something in her ear, his words too low for Leila to catch.

Whatever he said transformed the woman’s demeanor entirely. Her painted eyebrows rose, and genuine surprise flickered across her features before settling into a knowing smile. “Follow me.”

She led them through a dark corridor lined with doors. Muffled sounds drifted from behind the closed doors—laughter, conversation, and other things that made Leila’s face burn. Finally, the woman stopped at a door at the end of the hall, knocked twice, then opened it and gestured for them to enter.

“Wait here,” she said before closing the door behind them.

The office was small but richly appointed, featuring a large mahogany desk, a comfortable armchair upholstered in deep green velvet, and a fire blazing merrily in the ornate hearth. The walls were lined with ledgers and what appeared to be account books.