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“I didn’t expect him to clean like a peasant.” Victoria flinched at the harshness of her own words.

William, however, chuckled. “Labor doesn’t scare me. Fixing things, cleaning things is not something I am afraid of. In fact, I love sticking my hands in the gutter, lifting the rubble, cleaning, and fixing it until it resembles a working, useful thing. I love to”—he raised his hooded eyes to run his gaze over her form like a caress—“keep my hands busy.”

Victoria swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. How in the world did he manage to make the conversation about cleaning so… seductive.

“You know what scares me?” He dropped his gaze and continued eating.

“What?” Victoria’s voice was oddly breathless. He was able to light his charm on command and douse it just as quickly, while Victoria was still unsettled by his previous words.

“Idleness. Inaction. Complacency. I am scared of sitting on my arse and watching life go by while I complain about it without lifting a finger to change the way it is.”

Victoria placed her fork on the edge of the plate. “You mean like me?”

He leveled her with his gaze. “No, I wasn’t talking about you. But I find it interesting that you came to that conclusion.”

Victoria cleared her throat. “Touche. Apparently, I am not content with my lot in life. So, please, let your men know to prepare the carriage.”

He leaned back in his chair and raised his brow. “And where are you planning to go?”

She shrugged. “To the modiste. I need a lot of gowns tailored for putting on and taking off without external help. And then for tea at my uncle’s house. Should I disclose every location I want to visit?”

William grinned. “Don’t worry, my men shall disclose them for you.”

“You were so right, husband,” she said with a self-satisfied smile as she stabbed at the food with a renewed appetite. “Since I am not content to spend my days confined to this dark tower, I shall spend them elsewhere.”

William’s lips twitched in a barely suppressed smile. “I concede. You won this hand. But need I remind you? I often cheat at cards in order to win.”

“I know,” she answered with a smile. “So do I.”

Chapter 8

Forty days before the execution…

William spent the first week living with his wife in near solitude. He was used to living alone. He had always kept himself busy. He had things to take care of, business to attend to, errands to run.

Yet this time, it felt different. Though Victoria’s physical presence was scarce in the daylight hours, her ethereal essence permeated the house. He could sense her in the lingering scent of perfume, the rumpled sheets on her chair, and the half-finished needlework left on its arm. She haunted the tower even when absent, a specter his thoughts returned to again and again amidst his tasks.

Somehow, William had imagined this going differently. But truly, what did he expect?

Had he thought she would be thankful to be living with him? He had stripped her of everything she had ever known. He’d taken her away from her family, from the place where she was pampered and taken care of. And now she was living in a small, dank tower with the husband she loathed.

A part of him, a naive, quixotic part of him, hoped that she still loved him and that living with him would reawaken that love. As a result, she would overlook everything he had done in the past, and they would live happily for the rest of their lives in their own perfect little world.

What he’d failed to realize was that even if his illusions proved to be true, if Victoria did indeed love him still, then it would still take her time to accept her new reality, come to terms with her circumstances, and lastly learn to trust William again.

During their years apart, William had spent every moment yearning for her, longing to be with her again, while she, no doubt, had spent her time trying to forget him.

And now, she spent every waking hour trying to erase him from existence. Even when they went to their first outing as a couple to a theater, she spent the entire time ignoring him, chattering away with her friends.

On her solo daily outings, his carriage driver and the stable hands always accompanied Victoria, reporting everything she did and everywhere she went.

She never lied. She went to the modiste often, she visited her family daily, had visited Lady St. John for their weekly nuncheon, and she also spent an inordinate amount of time at the women’s shelter in St. Giles. And William’s men were always extremely giddy at the prospect of accompanying her to every place she wished.

Perhaps it was just being in the company of a sophisticated, gorgeous woman that made them feel special. Or perhaps they were bored living in the little cottage by the tower, and every outing with Victoria was an adventure.

But also, William felt they were already half in love with her, because who wouldn’t be?

William was determined to give her time to come to terms with their living arrangements. He couldn’t—nor did he want to—force her to stay inside the house with him. As long as she spent her nights under his roof, she wasn’t breaking any rules of their deal.