"There," he said, spreading his arms. "Decency has been restored to the kingdom...I think you just like what you see and don’t want to admit it," he said.

Livia rolled her eyes. "Oh Lord help me."

Richard moved to her once more and took her hand. "The Lord is far away. Call my name instead, my darling." He winked.

"God, you are exasperating," she muttered. "Are you really a duke?"

They stepped into the corridor, and the cooler air brushed her face. She leaned a little more heavily on him than she meant to. Richard adjusted his hold without comment, letting her keep the dignity of pretending she was fine.

"Titles are just words, Diana," he said. "We are who we are underneath it all."

"Of all the whos you could be, you chose arrogant and self-absorbed?" Livia accused as they walked down the hall.

Richard glanced at her, one brow lifting. "It has worked for me all my life," he said.

"Being arrogant and self-absorbed?"

"Being unforgettable."

"And I thought the English could see through bullshit."

Richard froze. Then he turned to her slowly, delight spreading across his face. "I think that is the first bad word I have ever heard you say."

Livia immediately regretted it. "Do not make a ceremony out of it."

"Congratulations. You have successfully been educated by the Duke of Kingsmere. I shall continue taking credit for your corruption," he added.

Livia sighed, already exhausted and overwhelmed by him. "God preserve me."

They reached her chamber at last, and the maid waiting outside hurried to open the door. Richard helped Livia inside with surprising care.

******

King Henry had considered himself patient enough. For days, he had waited for positive news from the city watch, his own men, and the discreet royal agents Lionel had sent into every dark corner of London. Physicians were watched. Even priests had been asked whether a wounded woman had come seeking sanctuary.

Nothing. Enough was enough. It was time to take matters into his own hands. Henry pulled on his usual disguise.

Lionel watched him grimly as they left the palace with a dozen guards. "Your Majesty, this is reckless."

The instructions Henry had given were clear. Beaumont’s establishment was coming down.

He had truly endured. He had tried to be reasonable but every day he didn’t see Livia was wrecking him, doing things to him he didn’t quite understand.

It was late in the night when he stepped through the doors. The place was at its peak. Noise crashed over him at once: drunken laughter, shouting, clapping, the scrape of benches, the sour music of a badly played fiddle. Men filled the room shoulder to shoulder, red-faced and leering, their eyes fixed on the dancing women moving beneath smoky candlelight. The air smelled of ale.

Henry’s face was cold as stone. Beside him, Lionel took in the room with one sweeping glance. The guards remained outside for now, waiting for the signal.

Beaumont spotted Henry near the entrance and hurried over, his face brightening with the oily eagerness of a man who saw coin.

"Would you like a seat, sire?" Beaumont asked, dipping his head in a clumsy little bow.

Henry stared him down. Venom moved through his blood. So this was Livia’s tormentor. This little worm. This was the man who had kept her caged, who had sold women’s desperation by the hour. Henry’s eyes scanned him from head to toe: the fine waistcoat, the greedy mouth, the rings on fingers.

He wished, truly wished, that he could bring down the full weight of his power on Beaumont right there. Henry looked to the side at Lionel. "Get everyone out of here."

Lionel nodded once.

Beaumont’s smile faltered. "Excuse me?"

Lionel turned toward the door and raised two fingers.

"Excuse me!" Beaumont snapped, louder now, his face flushing. "Who do you think you are? You have no right to walk into my establishment and give orders like—"

The doors opened. Palace guards marched in. Actual palace guards. Armed and wearing the unmistakable authority of the Crown.

The music died first. Then the laughter. The words died instantly in Beaumont’s throat.

"Word has come to the king’s attention that your establishment has become unsafe for habitation," Henry said.

It offended him that he had to speak politely to this human stain, this greedy bastard who profited from frightened women.

Beaumont’s eyes widened as the guards began clearing the room. "My lord!"

Customers were shoved toward the door, half-drunk and stumbling, some protesting until they saw the royal livery and remembered they loved their necks. The musicians disappeared first. Upstairs, the women were being led to collect what little they owned.

"It was just one tiny incident," Beaumont said quickly. "The girls... you know how women are."

Henry turned his head slowly to glare at him.

Beaumont swallowed. "My lord, I only mean they are emotional creatures. It was merely a catfight. They slipped."

"A girl is dead," Henry said.

"My lord, I cannot be blamed if one ungrateful whore runs off after causing trouble."

Henry stepped closer, visibly wanting to reach for his throat.

Beaumont clasped his hands. "Please. I pay my taxes. I am a honest business man. I have noble men friends. Men who will speak for me. My lord—"

"As of this moment," Henry continued, voice carrying across the now-silent hall, "every servant, maid, and woman you claim as your possession is free by order of the Crown. Any debt used to bind them here is void."

Beaumont looked horrified. "My lord, I cannot do all the work myself!"

Henry gave him a cold smile. "You don’t have to worry. Your little establishment here will be ashes in a few minutes."

The colour drained from Beaumont’s face. Henry turned away, completely done with him, and walked back toward the door.

Beaumont followed behind him, begging and pleading. "My lord! My lord!" Beaumont stumbled after him. "Mercy! Mercy, I beg you!"

Henry stopped outside the tavern. Beaumont fell to his knees.

"I have a wife. I have children!" he cried. "Please, my lord, an audience with the king and I will explain. I will explain everything. This is a misunderstanding."