Livia swallowed. Henry had spoken of rescue, of a house, of freedom, and she had believed him because believing him had felt better than drowning slowly in Beaumont’s world. But her own plan? She had none. She had only hope, and hope was not a plan.

"I don’t have any," Livia said.

"I got you away from Beaumont. Isn’t that enough? You still want to go looking for this man?"

Livia looked up at him. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because he may be looking for me."

"And if he is not?"

She forced herself not to look away. "Then I will know."

"I can offer you shelter," Richard offered.

"And what would I do here? I cant live with you forever."

He sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. "What I meant was," he continued, more carefully, "you are free now, and you still want to go back to a man who knows you as a whore?"

Livia recoiled. Her shoulders pulled back. Her face closed. Whatever softness had been warming between them vanished. "I am not a whore."

Richard straightened. "That is not what I was insinuating."

"No? It sounded very much like what you were saying."

"I meant that he met you in Beaumont’s brothel. That is all."

"We didn’t meet in Beaumont’s brothel. And he doesn’t see me as a whore either."

Richard’s expression shifted. "Again, that is not what—"

"Will you stop saying that!" Livia snapped.

The sudden movement punished her at once.

Pain cracked through her skull. "Ow!" She bent forward, one hand flying to her head as the room lurched violently around her.

Richard was on his knees immediately. "Diana—" His hands came to her face, holding her still. "I told you to stay in bed!"

"Yeah..." she breathed, eyes squeezed shut. "You may have mentioned it."

"Look at me," Richard said.

"Why would I want to do that?"

"I need to see your eyes, crazy woman."

Slowly, she opened them. That was when she noticed how close he was. His face was only inches from hers. Close enough for her to see the faint shadow along his jaw, the worry tightening his mouth, the warmth of his breath against her cheek. He still had his hands on either side of her face, thumbs resting lightly near her temples.

Then he got a weird look on his face. Concern, yes. That was easy to recognise. But there was something else too.

He was looking at her like he was seeing her all over again for the first time.

"Richard?" she called.

"Uhn..."

"What’s wrong?"

"You have the most amazing eyes," he whispered.

"Okay..." she said slowly. "Thank you."

Her instinct for self-preservation kicked in, she tried to shift backward. Amusement returned to his face.

"Really?" he asked.

"What?"

"This does nothing to you?" He gestured down at his naked torso confidently.

Any other woman, in any other situation, might have swooned, or pretended to drop a handkerchief.

"Is it supposed to?" she asked.

He stood, offended in the most theatrical way. "Usually, yes."

"How tragic for you."

"One look at all of this gift," he continued, gesturing again, "and boom. Ladies in my bed."

Her gaze lowered briefly, then returned to him. "Is that why you are helping me?"

Richard’s smile slipped.

"To get me in your bed?" she asked.

Richard could have lied. Men lied all the time. Instead, he sighed. "If I say yes to that, I sound like an asshole." He looked at her steadily. "But I’m not going to lie that I do not want to fuck you, Diana." He lifted a hand before she could speak. "But I promise to be a gentleman while you are here."

"While I am here?" Livia asked.

"Yes." Richard folded his arms, looking far too pleased with himself. "The moment you figure out what to do, all bets are off."

Livia narrowed her eyes.

"I am going to pursue you," he continued, pointing lazily toward his bed, "and fuck you on that bed."

"I forgot how straightforward you can be."

"Just giving you fair warning."

Livia looked away. He had a way of saying outrageous things so plainly that outrage itself became tired trying to keep up.

Beneath the humour, the truth of his words settled uncomfortably. He wanted her. He had said it matter of factly. And strangely, that honesty made him less frightening, not more.

"I promised myself to another man," Livia said.

Richard’s smile faded a little.

"And unless I do not find him, or if I do find him and he doesn’t want me, I intend to keep my word if I have the will to." She had decided to put it all out there. No letting him think gratitude could be bent into permission. She owed Richard her life, yes, but not her body and a little part of her whispered; not her heart either.

"I do like a challenge."

Livia sighed. "Of course you do."

"I’ll just make sure to bend your will."

"You really do think you are charming."

"No, God, no." He looked genuinely offended by the idea. "Charm is for boys. But I do have a long history of making women crave my touch."

"How humble."

"I try not to burden people with my greatness. Now let’s get you back to your room and have the nurse look in on you." Richard held out his hand to help her to her feet. He started to walk her out.

Livia took two slow steps, then stopped and glanced at him. "Could you maybe put on a shirt first?"

Richard raised a brow.

She looked at the door, then back at him. "Or I can just go on my own."

His brow climbed higher.

"I don’t want anyone thinking..." She waved vaguely between them and did not finish.

Richard’s mouth curved. "Thinking what, Diana?"

"I am trying to preserve both our reputations."

"My reputation has survived worse."

"I am not surprised."

He laughed, then turned toward the bed. A shirt lay carelessly across it. He picked it up and threw it on.