Harry ran a hand through immaculately styled hair. “Till—Matilda, they’ll kill me. The law won’t come into it. In Dublin, Manchester, York… There’s a price on my head even if the reward isn’t offered by the crown. If I try to pay back what I’ve earned through my confidence games, I won’t live out the month.”

“What you mean,” Tremont said, from his place by the door, “is that Harry Merridew et alia has a price on his head. Harrel Merchant, long-lost scion of a respected Bristol family, carries no such burden.”

For the first time, Harry looked afraid. “You cannot expect me to go back to Bristol, Tremont. Anything but that. The piety alone will strangle me as effectively as any noose. I’ll choose Newgate over Bristol, gladly.”

A tallish, dark-haired woman swept past Tremont, who closed the parlor door behind her. She looked to be shy of thirty and was attired in subdued azure fashion that brought out the blue in her eyes. She advanced on Harry and delivered a sharp crack to his left cheek.

“I’ve been read out of meeting,” she said as Harry’s cheek turned crimson. “The stated reason was my unseemly lack of humility in the face of guidance from my elders—meaning I would not allow our uncles to steal you or me blind—and apparently, I have a propensity for violence as well. I’ve missed you, Harry.”

Tears glistened in her eyes, and yet, she stared at Harry without flinching.

“Esther?” Harry touched his cheek. “Esther?”

She nodded. “I am worldly now. All tarted up and fallen into wickedness, to hear the aunties tell it. I understand why you left, Harry, but I cannot understand why you never wrote to me. You disappeared in a cloud of righteous fury, and for years, Papa refused to speak your name.”

Harry blinked at the curtains. “If I’d written to you, you might have tried to find me. You were safe in Bristol, and I wasn’t managing all that well. I’ve gone some better than you in the wickedness department, Esther.”

“Lord Tremont has implied as much, but, Harry, that’s all behind you.”

Matilda’s heart hurt to hear the hope and determination in Esther’s voice. “Tell your sister she’s right, Harry. You are turning over a new leaf on a new branch on a whole new tree, aren’t you?”

Harry met her gaze for the first time since he’d entered the room. “This is my penance? To go back to Bristol?”