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William lowered his own guard slowly. The grin faded. “On Leonora?”

“Four of them. Two for the day and two for the night.” Anthony pulled at the lacing of his muffler with his teeth and tore it loose. “They started yesterday, at first light. They follow her wherever she goes, and they are not to approach her or speak to her. She does not know.”

William squinted his eyes. “Tell me, Anthony. Why is it that she does not know?”

Anthony hesitated. “She asked me not to.”

“Of course she did.” William whistled low. “You posted four men?”

“One in the morning, one in the night. They take turns. “ Anthony threw the glove onto a bench. “I know I broke my promise to her, but trust me when I say it was necessary.”

“Well. At least you are consistent in your sins.” William picked up a towel and tossed it across. Anthony caught it without looking. “Is she in danger? Something I should know?”

The two men for the first day had each sent one report. That was the odd part. He had waited all day yesterday, pacing his study like a caged animal. The first came from the day man at dusk, and the second from the night man at dawn. Two pages, in all, and the two said almost the same thing. Miss Ashcroft had not left the house. She had sat for an hour in the garden. A lamp had burned in her window until two. No strangers had come to the door, and no one had followed her. It was exactly what he wanted to read.

“Anthony?” William called out to him.

“Yes.”

“What is it that is bothering you?” William asked. “Why does Leonora need protection?”

“She is safe, there has been no bad report. It is a long story, but...” Anthony scrubbed the towel over his face and stood there with it. “Her being safe is not the trouble. It is something else.”

William was quiet for a moment, a confused look on his face. He took his time thinking before crossing both arms. “Well, let us work it out. Reason number one is that you are afraid for her. That is why she needs protection, I am guessing. But you said you have men on her, and there has been nothing, so that cannot be it. Reason number two is that you still have no information for her on the cause of her mother’s death, and the waiting is eating you alive.”

“That is part of it.”

“Reason number three is that you broke your word about the men, and your conscience is sore.”

“That too.”

“Reason number four, that half of London thinks you are betrothed, and the talk will ruin her if it is not sorted properly.”

“That is also a worry.”

“So you have four good reasons to be wretched. I think we have found the cause.” William spread his hands, entirely pleased with himself. “Shall I fetch you a drink?”

“I want her back, William.”

“Mm?” he said, pausing in his tracks.

“I want Leonora back.”

William went quiet, his eyes slowly scanning the room. “Back… where?”

“Under my roof. With me. At Glenhaven.” The words were coming faster now, and he could not seem to stop them. “I want her at my grandmother’s table in the mornings, arguing with my grandmother. I want her in the library, sitting across the desk, telling me my accounts are in disarray. I want her where I can see her. She is in a house across town, and I can hardly breathe for knowing it.”

“Anthony...”

“She belongs at my side.” He heard himself say it. “She is mine.”

He had never used that word about a woman in his life. It sounded wrong, almost ugly, said aloud in a room that smelled of sweat. It did not mean what it should have meant. He did not want to own her. He wanted something else.

“She is risking her life by being away from me,” he went on, quieter. “I know she is not in danger today, or yesterday. But she is not here, and the men I have set to follow her are not me, and every hour I cannot see her is an hour I cannot...” His voice broke off. “I cannot do this any longer.”

“Do what?”

“Keep it in.”