Chapter 27

Just as Grace had predicted, by the time they arrived in London, William had already escaped from the gaol. Hades and Grace had managed to find his location, though—it was easy since they all knew the same safe hideaway spots. The young couple had taken refuge in a small, nondescript boarding house on the outskirts of the city, lying low and waiting for their chance to flee the country.

Hades and Grace had pulled their connections to get William and Victoria safely across the English Channel. They'd known quite a few smugglers who would do anything for a few extra coins.

Just to make certain they would get the job done, Hades, with his imposing presence and reputation for ruthlessness, had threatened them with dire consequences should they fail in their task or betray the fugitives.

Grace, on the other hand, employed a softer approach. She had offered the men free patronage to her brothel once they reopened—which she was sure would happen soon.

They didn't know what worked, Grace's sweet approach, Hades' intimidation, or the offer of money. Perhaps, all three. Either way, the men agreed to smuggle William and Victoria onto their ship, although they couldn't promise comfortable accommodations.

Grace was so busy dealing with William's escape plans that she didn't have time to dwell on her separation from Ford… at all.

Sure, she still thought about him constantly, his face appearing unbidden in her mind's eye at the most unexpected moments. The memory of his touch, his voice, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled haunted her waking hours and her dreams.

But she absolutely did not yearn to be in his arms again…

And she was not thinking about him right now as she stood now on the docks, Hades standing by her side, watching the ship with William and Victoria disappear into the misty horizon.

Why would she?

He didn't love her. He wanted her body but rejected everything else about her. He was not worth her tears, although she'd shed them anyway once her courses had arrived earlier in the day.

But that was just the emotions that always came during that time of the month.

"We have to go," Hades said, and she only grunted in answer, her thoughts whirling back to Ford.

She never wanted a child. But since she knew she could never have Ford, a part of her yearned to have a part of him with her forever…

"Grace?"

Grace turned toward Hades sharply. "Yes."

"We have to leave." He waved a hand toward his carriage.

Grace nodded and stepped toward him. "Do you like it?" she asked, her mind still in a fog of confusion.

Hades frowned. "Do you mean sailing?"

Grace shook her head. "Married life."

Hades' frown deepened. "Do not tell me you are thinking about marrying Gunning. I love his sister, but the man is arrogant and dismissive. If you marry him, your brothel will become his and he will close it with a snap of his fingers."

Grace flinched at the confirmation of her own thoughts. "I am not thinking of marrying him. I know he can never love me…"

Hades turned toward her fully, a frown marring his face. "Do you love him?"

She licked her dry lips. "It doesn't matter. You said it yourself, he—"

"Do you?"

Grace pursed her lips.

Hades cursed under his breath. "I hope you know he doesn't deserve you."

Grace let out a bitter laugh. "Who does deserve me, then?"

Hades let out a deep breath. "Someone who loves you as much, if not more, than you love him."

And that was the crux of the issue, wasn't it? Ford didn't love her even a little.

* * *

A rounded, heavy-set man entered the lavishly decorated room, his breath coming in short gasps from the exertion of climbing the stairs. He closed the door and stood there awhile, catching his breath, the sconces by the door illuminating his ruddy face.

He finally straightened and wiped his palms on his coat before turning toward his desk and… yelped in surprise.

A high-pitched sound incongruous with his stature left his lips when he noticed Ford sitting in the shadows, occupying the chair that rightly belonged to him.

"Mr. Lockley," Ford said evenly.

"What the hell are you doing here? Guards! Guards!" Lockley's voice rose in panic, his eyes darting towards the door as if expecting reinforcements to burst in at any moment.

Ford raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Shush, for God's sake, I am not here for any nefarious reasons!"

Lockley's eyes narrowed. "Is that why you broke into my office and are hiding in the shadows?"

Ford shrugged. Perhaps he had not used the most judicious way to approach the magistrate of the court. "Did I have another choice? I have a price on my head."

"And for a good reason," Lockley spat, his face reddening with anger. "How dare you come into this office after what you've done? I will have you arrested—"

"On what grounds?" Ford interrupted, a smirk lifting at the corners of his mouth. "Embarrassing your son?"

"Shielding a fugitive!" The man yelled again, his pitch rising with every syllable.

Ford leaned forward, his voice lowering. "Come now, you know I was right. Grace Holland wasn't the murderer, and I knew it. I was just doing my job."

Lockley's jowls quivered with indignation. "Your job is to apprehend the people whose names I put on the arrest warrant." He waved a hand. "If you look closer at the desk in front of you, you'll find one with your name on it."

Ford didn't even glance at the desk. "My job is to catch the killers, thieves, and other criminals. Real criminals. If you want mindless idiots doing your bidding, you've got constables for that. And they are paid accordingly. I, on the other hand, am paid a great deal for every criminal I catch. I could blindly follow your orders and be that much richer. Yet, that's not what I did. I risked my own career to do the right thing in the hopes that you'll do the same when the truth came out."

"You injured my son," the magistrate gritted through his teeth, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

Ford's voice softened slightly. "It was a gentle tap to deter him from skewering me with his sword."

"He spent a week fighting fever!" Lockley's voice rose again, a vein pulsing at his temple.

"But he is alive and well, and the real murderer—William—has been caught, yes?" Ford countered, his eyebrow raised in challenge.

"Caught and escaped," Lockley clarified.

Ford shrugged. "If you dream of ever catching him again, you better release me back into the workforce." Nobody would catch William ever again. But Ford needed the leverage, in order to catch the real murderer in time.

The magistrate pursed his lips, sweat dripping down his forehead. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken tension.

Ford broke it, his voice calm and reasonable. "You are a wise man. Consider doing the right thing and quashing the warrants—mine and Grace's. Besides, even if you don't, you know that we will be released as soon as we are captured, as there's no evidence to hold us."

Lockley's eyes narrowed. "If you're so confident, why are you here at all?"

Ford stifled a grimace. "I need an official statement in the papers announcing our innocence." He paused. "I have a reputation to uphold, while the House of Pain and Pleasure won't be able to reopen without it. At least, not without backlash."

Something flashed in the man's eyes at the mention of the pleasure palace. Recognition, perhaps even a hint of desire. He was a patron, then.

"Fine." He cleared his throat, straightening his waistcoat. "But only since I need you to catch that blackguard, William."

Of course. Ford smiled, stood, and turned away, ready to leave.

"But Gunning—" Lockley's voice stopped him.

"Yes, sir?" Ford turned back, wary.

"Consider doing something like this again and I will personally arrest you."

Ford slowly ran his gaze down the man's length, communicating with his appraisal that the threat wasn't as alarming as he might have thought. Still, he shrugged, tipped his hat, and turned to leave.

"Gunning!" the magistrate called once more.

"Yes?" Ford threw over his shoulder, impatience creeping into his voice.

There was a pause. "Use the damned door."

* * *

A month later.

Grace stood at the bottom of the stairs leading to the private chambers, welcoming back all the brothel guests.

It was a reopening night and the place was filled to the brim with people.

A month ago, out of the blue, a notice in papers appeared exonerating her and the brothel from any wrongdoing. It was the best news she'd received in a while, which meant she had a lot of work to do. She needed to bring her brothel back into working order, and she needed to find all her workers and bring them back to their home.

There was enough work to keep her mind occupied for every minute of the day. Yet, her mind kept coming back to Ford.

She had sent him a missive informing him that she was not with child and didn't receive an answer.

This was the end of their liaison, then.

Anticlimactic.

No, depressing.

And while Grace was happy her life was back to the way it was and tonight was a celebration, a constant nagging sadness settled deep within her.

"Grace!" Colette's panicked voice sounded behind her. Grace turned to see Colette running toward her, her face flushed, her wig askew. "Trouble in your office. Come quick!"

"Megs, take my place," Grace threw over her shoulder and dashed after Colette.

Colette opened the door to her office, ushering Grace inside. As Grace walked past her, she noticed a sly smile. Then, the door closed behind her.

Grace glanced back at the door and then inside the room only to see Ford, leaning his hips against her desk. Her heart skipped a beat, her mouth going dry. She was happy that paint covered her face, so he could not decipher her bewildered expression. At least, she hoped he couldn't.

"Trouble in my office," Grace said, then cursed under her breath. What an actress Colette was. She wasn't exactly wrong, though.

Grace took off her wig and threw it onto the armchair by the window. "What brings you here?"

"You," he said simply.

Grace swallowed. "What about me?"

"I came here—" He pushed off the desk, and Grace took a step back. He stilled, not advancing any farther. "I spent the entire month thinking about you. I can't… No, I don't want to live without you, Grace. I want you back in my life."

Grace gripped the skirt of her gown tightly to hide her trembling fingers.

"I… I know that you want me, Ford. But that's not enough."

"No," he said firmly and took a step forward. "That's not enough. The intense desire we feel for each other, the way our bodies ignite like fireworks when we're together - that's powerful, but it's not the whole story. What we have goes beyond that. Beyond the physical."

She shook her head.

"Yes." He took another step. "I want you. I want your body. I think about having you in my bed, on the floor, on the horse, or anywhere, really, constantly. And yes, making love with you is one of the best experiences I've had in my life. But if you said we'd have to abstain from that if we were to be together, I would be fine with that." A lopsided smile graced his lips. "A little sad and randy all the time, but fine. As long as you are by my side."

She let out a strangled chuckle.

"I don't just miss your body, Grace. I miss your spirit. Your determination. Your courage. Your goodness. Your heart. Your soul. I miss the way your eyes turn into rectangles when you're annoyed with me. I love the crinkle in your brows when you've thought of something funny. I love your wit, your intelligence, your resourcefulness. I love that you didn't let your childhood break you. Instead, you soared like a phoenix from the ashes and built a pleasure castle from the dirt. I love everything about you." He took a step with every sentence and now he stood directly in front of her, only an inch away. "Yes, I said love. Because I love you."

Grace shook her head again, her voice breaking. "You can't."

"I can and I do." He took her hands in his.

"I am a harlot. I have lived on the streets. I pleasured men in dirty alleys. I stole." She let out a huff of nervous laughter. "I even killed. Yes, I did, I had to. I opened the most depraved brothel in London, and I am not going to leave it behind."

He squeezed her fingers. "I still love you."

She licked her lips. "I cannot be a proper wife for a thief-taker. You cannot have a criminal for a wife."

He nodded. "I didn't say I wanted you to marry me."

She shuddered, startled. "Y-you don't want that?"

He tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. "Oh, I want that. But I didn't say that. I want all of you. And that includes the fact that you don't want to get married. You have a lot to lose, and I appreciate that. You built this pleasure house from ground up and I would not dream to take it away from you even on paper. I am willing—no—I desire to live in sin with you. I don't want your things, your wealth, and everything you've worked hard for. I want you to retain your independence. I just want to stand by your side and watch you soar."

Grace swallowed, her eyes misting with tears. "I don't believe in sins," she said through a wobbly smile.

"Then, will you live with me as my wife in all senses of the word except for the official record?"

She laughed and nodded. "Yes. I will."

He took a step forward and she threw her hands over his neck, pressing her body to his. His hands caressed her back, her derriere, while his nose burrowed into her hair.

She leaned back and frowned. "Won't your reputation as the thief-taker be smeared if people find out you're living with the most notorious brothel owner in town?"

He shrugged. "I can always become a fisherman."

She laughed and kissed him deeply. "Why did it take you so long to find me?" she whispered against his lips.

Ford grimaced. "I… um… I didn't know how to approach you."

Grace raised a brow. "Oh?"

"I thought that I needed to prove to you with a grand gesture how much I love you. I made the magistrate quash our warrants and announce it in the papers."

"That was you?" Grace shouldn't have been surprised.

He nodded. "But that didn't seem enough. So I ventured to find a perfect gift for you. It took me a while and I think I found it. And then I realized I didn't want you to accept me because of the gift. I wanted you to accept me for me. So… here I am."

Grace smiled softly, stroking his face. "You're a foolish man."

He cocked a brow. "Thank you?"

"I never needed anything from you, Ford. Just your love. Because I love you, too."

He let out an audible sigh of relief. "Thank God."

She raised a brow. "Were you doubting my feelings?"

He chuckled. "For a moment." Then he dipped his head and kissed her gently.

Their kiss quickly turned passionate, their hands roaming over their bodice when he stopped abruptly.

"What?" Grace asked when he pulled away.

He leaned back and fumbled in his pocket. "I almost forgot. I brought you a gift."

"I thought you said you decided not to bring me a gift."

He pulled something out of his pocket. "No, I wanted you to love me for me. But I would've given you this either way." He handed her the folded piece of paper.

She opened it, and there was a picture of a family crest with a wolf in the middle. She glanced at him, her heart drumming in her chest.

"That's the only crest that closely resembled what you described. A wolf, a knight, a sword. All are there."

She couldn't believe it. "You remembered."

"Of course." He sounded a little offended that she even questioned that.

"Who does it belong to?"

"Does the name the Duke of Wolverstone mean anything to you?" he asked.

Grace reared back. "A duke? No, it means nothing to me. Is he…"

He nodded. "That's the duke's family crest. Unfortunately, he passed away just a few days ago."

All of Grace's hopes were dashed with that sentence. A duke. She couldn't believe her father was a duke.

"Does he have a family?" Her voice came out raspy.

He hesitated. "No. His second cousin has inherited his title."

Disappointment filled Grace's chest. She had no family, after all. Warm fingers pressed to her chin as Ford compelled her to look at him as if saying, you're wrong, I am your family now.

She smiled. "At least, now I know." There was a chance she was wrong. She might have misremembered the crest. But the wolf in the middle of the crest, scowling at her, was exactly the one she'd remembered.

"He had a close friend, and his niece is welcoming mourners in the Wolverstone home," he said. "Perhaps you want to learn about him from the people who knew him."

Grace huffed a breath. "Will they let a harlot in?"

Ford nodded. "They will. I've already made sure we'd be welcomed."

She started. "You didn't tell them that I—"

"No, of course not. I told Blake that I wanted to visit with you, and he made the arrangements."

"Then yes." Grace nodded. "I want to go."