“I didn’t say.” Charlotte was treading carefully. It had taken all her courage to request an audience with this man, known only by the name of King. A man whose origins were murky at best, though there were rumors that his control of the underworld stretched far beyond the limits of London. A man whose knowledge of fine art was eclipsed only by his reputation for being able to secure anything. For a price.

And Charlotte had come to bargain.

King tipped his head slightly, and had his gaze not been so remote, Charlotte would have believed the man had almost smiled. “What is it, exactly, that you wish to do with this painting?” he asked.

And there was the crux of this entire matter. “I was told that you were a purveyor of fine art,” she said slowly. “The best in England. I wish to…sell it.” Not entirely true, but a starting point.

“Ah.” The man wandered to the far side of his desk, and Charlotte was once again struck by the stealthy grace in which he moved. He had red-gold hair and aristocratic, austere features, and if she were to paint the most infamous Tudor king, before age and excess had ravaged his appearance, this is how she imagined he would have looked. This man was almost too beautiful to possess the dark reputation that cloaked him.

King was examining a painting that dominated the wall behind his desk. “Judith Beheading Holofernes,” he said, and Charlotte wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or himself. “A woman driven to extreme measures.” He gestured at the maiden, her wickedly curved blade buried deep in the neck of a man whose eyes bulged in terror. “Tell me, what do you see in her expression?” King asked.

Charlotte hesitated, looking for pitfalls to his question but unable to find any. “Determination,” she finally answered. “Maybe a small measure of desperation.”

“Indeed.” He turned around again, and now his cool eyes were fixed firmly on hers. “Similar to what I see on your face. So I must ask what extreme measures have driven you to try and sell me a forgery.”

Charlotte felt her stomach plummet to her toes and bile rise in her throat. She focused on keeping her breathing even. “How can you be so sure that it’s a forgery?” she asked with every ounce of bravado she still clung to.

King’s lips twisted, and his eyes became positively glacial. “I would advise you not to insult me further. Just answer my question.”