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Later, he had to leave the country, and his only solace was getting news about her from his spies.

And if the absence made her heart grow fonder, she had shown no indication of that fact.

He had made mistakes—serious mistakes—while courting her, and an even bigger one in marrying her. As a husband, he was farther from her now than he’d been before they married. If she was elusive before, now she was completely unattainable.

He shifted in his seat and bit down on his cheroot. That had never stopped him before, and it was not going to stop him now.

Another harlot approached him, her hips swaying suggestively from side to side. Instead of climbing onto his lap this time, she simply bent down and whispered in his ear, “She has arrived.”

William grinned and shot from his seat.

“Oi! Where are you going? We are not done!” Lord Norfolk, William’s long-time gambling partner, slurred, waving his hand of cards.

William dropped his remaining fish onto the middle of the table. “Consider me a forfeit.”

Norfolk leaned back and laughed, allowing William to slip away without further protest. William pushed through the crowd of drunken men and slipped into a more private corridor.

The wide passageway amplified the sound of his heels clicking on the floor, their resonance bouncing off the stony walls. Paired with the cling of his swordstick as he twirled it in his hand, it caught the attention of the startled patrons of the establishment.

Heads turned toward him, their eyes reflecting either hatred or desire, but William kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, paying no heed to anyone.

William breezed through the long hall, his focus unwavering, and he blocked out the sounds of kissing and seductive whispers emanating from the patrons. He single-mindedly approached the stairwell ahead. Upon reaching the top floor, a woman in a revealing crimson-red gown, a high curly wig, and a brightly painted face greeted him with a smile.

However, as soon as she saw his face, her smile faded. “You.”

One side of William’s mouth curled up in a smile. “Good to see you too, Patience,” he said with a wink and walked past her. “You look lovely, by the way.”

“Grace is busy, you shameless flirt,” she scolded to his back. “And where have you been?”

William didn’t bother to answer as he navigated a maze-like corridor to the proprietress’s office. Without knocking, he threw the door open and confidently entered the room.

The fire danced behind Grace’s back, casting her shadow onto the large desk in front of her. She stiffened, no doubt gripping her small dagger tightly between her fingers.

In the dim light, he couldn’t see her features clearly, but he doubted she was surprised as he stepped into the light.

“William,” Grace whispered on a breath before putting the dagger away.

William smiled wickedly. “I am back. Missed me?”

She snorted. “Not particularly.”

William shrugged and slowly advanced closer to her desk, propping his weight against his swordstick. “I am back, nonetheless. And I am here to stay.”

“You don’t say?” she asked in a bored tone. “And what is the reason for your untimely return?”

William unhurriedly pulled out a chair and took a seat across from her. “I’m in London to reclaim what’s rightfully mine.”

Grace didn’t budge, merely observing him, as she always did. That level of stillness often unsettled others, but not William. “And what is that exactly?”

William lit a cheroot, leaned back in his seat, propped one foot on his knee, and exhaled a smoky breath. “My wife.”

Grace tilted her chin slightly and responded as if she were addressing a question he hadn’t asked. “I don’t know anything about your wife.”

William let out a laugh, a few puffs of smoke leaving with his breath. “Somehow, I highly doubt that.”

“I highly do not care,” she replied in a measured tone, her demeanor unwavering.

“I know what you do here, Grace,” he stated with a hint of irritation.