His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

Chapter 167: You May Go

His hand curled into a fist. "Damn you," he whispered, though he was not certain whether he meant Lionel, Richard, Theodora, Livia, or himself. Henry surged to his feet and, in a fit of frustration, threw the desk he was seated at over, everything on it tumbling, ink running through paper.

Lionel was right. What had he done? He stood amid the wreckage of his own temper, breathing hard, staring at ink spreading slowly across parchment. The court papers were ruined. Petitions soaked through.

Henry could not bring himself to care. What had he sacrificed to keep Livia? And would he even truly have her? He had bargained with his mother, and still there was no certainty at the end of it.

She had chosen Richard. If his mother had ordered the house in Covent Garden prepared for Livia, then it meant her plan was already breathing. Soon, Livia would be away from Richard.

It sounded like victory. It felt like damnation.

*****

Theodora was seated in her chamber, treating herself to a cup of wine when the royal physician entered. She had chosen the velvet chaise near the fire because it made her look like a queen. Her gown was dark, her jewels modest, and her mood was almost pleasant.

The man bowed. "Your Grace."

Theodora lifted her cup. "So..."

"The princess is not with child."

Theodora allowed a sorrowful silence to settle between them. Then she sighed, long and theatrical. "Oh, how sad." She swirled the wine in her cup. Not pregnant. How tragic.

Madeleine would be furious. And Theodora? Theodora was delighted.

She glanced at the physician. "And would this be because of the tea from last night or..."

"No," the physician said carefully. "She was never with child to begin with."

"How unfortunate," she murmured.

He stood with his hands clasped before him, his gaze lowered, his satchel resting against his side.

Theodora lifted her cup again. "And you are certain?"

"Your Grace. Her courses may be delayed from distress, or injury. There is no evidence of pregnancy."

"Mm."

So Madeleine had tried to anchor herself to Henry with nothing but a late month.

Foolish girl.

Bragging with an empty womb? That required remarkable stupidity.

"Thank you for all your help," Theodora said. "You may go."

The physician bowed, visibly relieved. She dismissed him with a flick of her fingers. Once he was gone, Theodora sat back against the chaise and allowed herself one full breath of satisfaction.

A child would have complicated things. A child would have given Madeleine claws. All things could be managed.

Theodora reached beside her and pulled the bell cord.

A maid entered almost at once, dropping into a curtsy. "Your Grace?"

"Inform the princess’s maid that their stay at the church has been delayed," Theodora said, examining the ruby ring on her finger. "They will be leaving the day after tomorrow."

"Yes, Your Grace."

"And tell her to time the preparations precisely." Theodora looked up then. "Exactly when the king’s guest will be heading toward His Highness’s apartments."

The maid hesitated only long enough to prove she understood there was a knife hidden somewhere inside the instruction. "Of course, Your Grace." The maid curtsied again and left.

Theodora took another sip of wine. Another thread pulled. Another little knot tied. Madeleine would be made to see what Theodora wanted her to see. Theodora intended to break her.

Madeleine needed to be lowered carefully, publicly enough to wound her pride. Theodora laughed softly into her cup.

The throne of queen had been meant for her. The crown had passed her by. If she could not sit upon the queen’s throne, then she would rule whoever did.

*****

Richard decided it would be wise to have the picnic before the bookshop. Livia was predictable when it came to books. Give the woman a shelf, a quiet corner, and the smell of ink and leather, and she would forget meals and him in thirty seconds flat. If she could spend the rest of her life surrounded only by books, Richard suspected she would flourish.

So, picnic first. Books after. They settled on a broad stretch of grass overlooking the lake, with Kingsmere rising behind them in the distance. The morning had ripened into a gentle afternoon. Sunlight moved across the water in bright broken pieces, and the trees along the bank stirred lazily in the breeze. A pair of swans glided over the lake.

Livia sat on the blanket with her skirts tucked neatly around her. Richard watched as she took in the lake, the fields, the pale wildflowers scattered through the grass. "This is beautiful, Your Grace...Thank you for bringing me."

He reached for the small knife and cut a piece of cheese, placing it on a slice of bread before handing it to her. "I thought we could enjoy Kingsmere a little more before we leave," he said.

"Will you not miss this place?"

"Oh, I will. More than I expect, perhaps." He leaned back on one hand, letting the sun warm his face. "But we shall try to visit at least once a year. More, if we can manage it."

Livia looked at the lake again, thoughtful. "I’m sure we will have a great life."

Richard turned to her. "You really do want to take this journey with me?"

"Your Grace," Livia said softly, "if I did not want to go with you, I would not have said I wanted to." She turned fully toward him on the blanket, the wind teasing a loose strand of hair against her cheek. "I love being with you. I love spending time with you. I enjoy your company, even when you are being unbearably pleased with yourself." Her mouth softened. "Why do you find that so hard to believe?"

He looked away toward the lake. "It is a big change," he said at last.

Everything about her had changed his life. His house felt different with her in it. His mornings had shape. His meals had warmth. Even silence had become something he wanted to share. And still, some miserable corner of his mind kept waiting for the other truth to rise between them.

(Brought to you by Janelle Fox 2/2)