Henry looked down at him. How easily wicked men remembered family when fire approached their own door.

"What can I do?" Beaumont went on, clasping his hands. "What will I do?"

Lionel stood a little behind Henry, his face blank. The guards were ushering women and servants through the back door and away from the king.

"I advise you make yourself scarce from the building in the next few minutes," Henry said. "As soon as everyone inside is done packing, this place will be burned down. And the land repossessed by the Crown."

Beaumont made a wounded sound. "My lord! Please! Tell me what to do."

Henry finally turned fully toward him. "What have you done with the girl Livia? There is no way she falls from a roof and walks away."

The name changed everything. Beaumont’s eyes widened. Livia. So that was what this was about.

Beaumont’s mind leapt at once to the half-dead nobleman who had wanted to marry her. The old fool must have hurried off to complain to the king. This had to be his doing. It had to be. "My lord," Beaumont gasped, pressing one hand to his chest. "I swear to you, I don’t know where she is."

Henry took one step closer. Beaumont leaned back.

"I swear it! By God’s wounds, I swear. My best guess is someone took her."

Henry’s hand flexed at his side.

"She could not have gone far by herself. Bess broke under her, God rest the poor girl. Livia must have still been injured. If she is gone, someone carried her."

Henry stared at him. That, unfortunately, sounded true. "Who was here that night?"

"Many men, my lord."

"Names."

Beaumont’s mouth opened.

Henry leaned in. "Names, Beaumont. Or I will let the fire start with you still counting your losses inside."

"My lord! I cannot possibly remember everyone off the top of my head," Beaumont cried.

"Well then," Henry said, climbing on to his horse. "I will give you better motivation. This place will stay locked until Livia is located."

Beaumont’s mouth fell open. "My lord..."

"And you better pray to everything holy that she remains alive and unharmed."

Beaumont swallowed so hard his throat bobbed. "I swear, my lord, I know nothing."

Henry leaned slightly from the saddle. "That is your problem. You are going to start knowing things very quickly."

Then he pulled his horse around. Lionel gave the guards the latest order. Beaumont sagged in relief.

Lionel mounted his horse and rode beside the king back toward Whitehall. London rolled past them in dark, crooked lines. He looked at Henry from the corner of his eye. He had never seen the king this way.

Henry was kind. Gentle, even when he should not be. The only time he truly raised his voice was with his mother, and even then, it was rarely anger. Mostly exasperation. A son trapped between love, irritation, and the lifelong burden of having Theodora as a parent.

But this? This was different. This was him on a rampage. And Lionel, loyal as he was, could not decide whether to fear for the king or for everyone standing in his way.

"My lord," Lionel said carefully.

Henry’s eyes remained forward. "Not now."

Lionel obeyed.

Meanwhile, Beaumont hurried back into the tavern. The place looked naked without noise. Chairs overturned. Cups abandoned. The dancers gone. The women gone.

He rushed into his little office and slammed the door. "Damn her," he muttered, hands shaking as he pulled aside a loose floorboard beneath his desk. "Damn that girl. Damn every man who ever looked at her." He dragged out a small chest of coins and set it on the table. Then another from behind a stack of ledgers. Then a pouch hidden inside the wall behind a crooked religious painting.

Beaumont wiped sweat from his upper lip. If Livia was alive, he needed to find her first. If she was dead, he needed to find out who had her body.

Once the guards were done with the girls, they dragged Beaumont out with his chests. He protested the entire way.

"Careful with that!"

One guard gave him a look. "You want the chest or your teeth intact?"

Beaumont wisely shut his mouth. The guards ran a chain around the building, sealing the doors under the authority of the Crown. Beaumont stood in the street, clutching the strap of one chest while the others sat at his feet. He stared at his life’s work. His tavern. His brothel. His kingdom.

Locked.

He was done for if he did not find Livia. The thought circled in his head as he gathered his treasures and started home. Every step through the dark streets felt heavier than the last. He kept thinking back to that night.

Someone had taken her. He was sure of it now. As much as he thought about that night, he knew another disaster waited the moment he reached home.

His wife. God preserve him from that woman’s tongue. She would nag. Then nag again. Then pause long enough to breathe and resume nagging with renewed strength. That was what he got for marrying a high-maintenance wife who believed comfort was a birthright and coin grew out of trees.

He adjusted the chest in his arms and muttered, "Should have married a widow with weak lungs."

*****

Jane couldn’t believe her luck. She stood inside a house on St Clement’s Alley, where Lionel had one of the men put her after they were set free.

The house was not noble, but to Jane it might as well have been a palace. It had real shutters. A hearth. There was a little kitchen, three bedrooms, a drawing room.

She walked through the house slowly, touching everything. The table, the wall, the curtain.

Life was a ridiculous creature. It kicked one woman off a roof and handed another woman a key.

She swallowed. No. She would not think of Livia. Maybe some of Livia’s luck was rubbing off on her.

Who knew? Jane smiled to herself.

"Haha."

Just hours ago, Jane had been dancing in Beaumont’s establishment, smiling at men whose names she did not know and did not care to learn. She had been one more painted face in a room full of noise, and hunger.

Then the king’s men had come. She had been smuggled out the back, placed in a carriage, and brought here—to a house on St Clement’s Alley.

A house to herself. Jane stood in the middle of the parlour for a moment, hands on her hips, looking around.

"Well," she said to the empty room, "isn’t God good?" She hurried to the master bedroom and pushed open the door. The bed stood wide and proud, covered with clean linen and a quilt soft enough to make a woman believe in miracles. Jane threw herself onto it.

"Oh!" She rolled once, laughing into the bedding. The mattress did not sag in the middle. There were no strange stains, no broken frame.

Life, indeed, could be beautiful. Honestly, she did not care what Lionel would need from her.

She did not care what sort of arrangement they would have. She would gladly give him everything he requested.

He wasn’t terrible to look at, either. In fact, he was handsome. And besides, he was an incredible fuck.

Jane smiled into the pillow. He was not like the other men who chose different girls each night. Lionel rarely came to Beaumont’s, but when he did, he always chose her. In a house where women were made to feel replaceable, Lionel had made her feel selected.

Yes, he flirted with the other girls sometimes. And sometimes, when he had had too much to drink, he would get too playful with them, squeezing their breasts and buttocks.

But he would always come back to her.

Quickly, Jane got off the bed and took a bath, scrubbing Beaumont’s house from her skin.

By the time she was done, her cheeks were warm, her hair had been combed loose over her shoulders, and she had put on the best thing she owned. It was not much, not by the standards of noble women but it hugged her body well enough. Besides, Lionel had seen her in less and liked her plenty.

He had promised he would stop by that night. Jane intended to give him a night to remember. A proper thank you.

She lit candles.

At almost midnight, she heard hooves outside. Her heart leapt. She hurried to the door, smoothing her gown with both hands. The moment Lionel stepped in, she threw herself into his arms.

Unfortunately, his arms were full of a basket. Bread nearly went flying. Lionel stumbled back one step, laughing as he tried to save the basket and hold her at the same time.

"Oh thank you, thank you, Lionel!" Jane laughed, clinging to him. "This place is magnificent."

"I thought you might like it." He lifted the basket slightly. "I got you food so you do not starve to death."