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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.