Molly O’Shea rarely lifted a finger in camp, and she never worked on jobs. But this one was different, Dutch and Hosea wanted to infiltrate the Mayor’s party in Saint Denis. A place filled with members of high society, their pockets deep and their noses turned up.

It was a job for the Irish lady who had come from wealth back in her homeland, she would fit right in. You had been chosen to go along with her, your quick wit, fighting prowess and ability to think on your feet was perfect to blag your way in.

You had borrowed a suit from Trelawny to look the part and as you stood by the carriage and smoked a cigarette, you saw Molly walking towards you.

Her red hair was tied up perfectly and her emerald gown and jewellery made her almost glisten.

“You scrub up well.”

She teased you, smirking as she caught your eye and noticed how you stared at her.