Chapter 259: You Need To Head Inside
She gave him her prettiest, most infuriatingly calm smile. Time stretched. The torches hissed. The night deepened. Livia sat still.
At last, he exhaled.
"My lady... you need to head inside."
"Oh no," Livia said, settling more comfortably in the chair. "This is becoming entertaining." She folded her shawl tighter around her shoulders and looked down the passage with bright interest. "I never come out here and simply watch people move about Whitehall. Everyone always seems so busy."
Lionel’s jaw tightened. "Mrs Crowe!"
Livia smiled to herself. A moment later, Tabitha opened the door.
"Lord Ashcroft," Tabitha said.
"Would you please get Miss Valenti inside for the night?"
"Tabitha," Livia said sweetly, "please fetch me a book. I should like to catch up on some reading."
"Of course, my lady."
Lionel looked between them. "Fine!...You win."
Livia’s smile widened.
Lionel turned to Tabitha. "Lock the doors. Do not open them until morning."
"As you wish, my lord."
Livia rose with triumph. "I shall see you before mass. Oh," she added, "and I shall have Tabitha check frequently to see whether you have returned to this door."
"Have a good night, Miss Valenti."
"You too."
Tabitha opened the door behind her. Livia stepped inside, wearing victory with no shame whatsoever.
*****
The following day proved that boredom could be made ceremonial. Mass had been long. The waiting after mass had been longer. The Archbishop, who had received Theodora’s sealed message, had apparently needed enough time before sending a reply.
Lionel had gone with them, of course. Still, the day had not been entirely dreadful. Livia had seen the Cresswel girls again.
They had greeted her with such open excitement. The girls asked questions faster than she could answer them.
The newest member of the Cresswel family was indeed another girl. At this rate, Lady Cresswel would be having babies for the rest of her days if her husband remained determined to fill the nursery until a boy appeared.
Bella was a devoted aunt. By the time she and Bella finally began the journey back to Whitehall, the day had softened towards evening. The Archbishop’s reply had been sealed and safely tucked away. Lionel rode nearby, watchful as ever.
They had barely left the road that ran from the abbey when the carriage stopped.
Bella frowned first. "Why have we halted?"
Livia shifted toward the small window. "Perhaps there is traffic ahead."
"Traffic sounds too harmless for that noise." She was right.
Outside, the street had erupted into shouting. A swell of bodies and voices ahead of them, crashing together in the narrow street.
Livia and Bella leaned out. A crowd had gathered not far ahead, men shoving, fists raised.
"Damn it," Lionel cursed. He dismounted at once. "Stay inside, my ladies," he ordered. "I shall have it cleared in a moment." He strode towards the uproar, one hand on his sword, his voice rising above the commotion. "Make way in the name of the Crown!"
The words cut through some of the noise.
Not enough.
Livia watched him move into the ruckus. Then the carriage door was yanked open. Four men, their faces covered with dark cloth, surged into the carriage. One seized Livia by the arm; another caught her cloak and twisted it tight enough to choke. Bella cried out. Livia was dragged from the carriage so violently her shoulder burned. Her feet missed the step. She hit the ground hard, palms scraping against stone, the breath knocked from her body. The sound of the crowd vanished beneath the roar in her ears.
Bella screamed her name when she saw the carriage driver dead on the ground. Livia rolled, trying to rise, but one of the masked men caught her hair and wrenched her head back. Pain burst across her scalp. She saw the blade then, lifted in his hand, angled down towards her breast.
The man drove the knife down. Before the blade reached her, he sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes widened above the cloth.
Then he collapsed sideways, the knife falling from his grip and clattering against the street. A dagger stood buried in his back.
Livia stared at it unable to make sense of salvation arriving so violently. Then she looked back. Lionel was running towards them, sword already drawn. Livia scrambled to her feet.
Bella caught her at once, pulling her close with one arm. Bella’s face had gone white. "Are you hurt?"
"I don’t know."
Lionel reached the remaining men. The first turned with a sword half drawn. Lionel cut across his arm before the man’s blade cleared leather, then drove him back with a brutal strike to the ribs. The second lunged low. Lionel stepped aside and brought his sword down. The third came from the left, quicker than the others.
Steel rang. Boots slipped on the stones. One attacker staggered, blood darkening his sleeve. Another cried out and fell beneath Lionel’s second strike.
The crowd ahead broke apart in panic now, the false brawl revealing itself for what it was: A stage arranged to pull Lionel away from the carriage.
Their eyes were fixed on Lionel, on the last of the masked men. That was why neither woman noticed the horse until it was nearly upon them.
The animal burst from the side lane, hooves striking sparks from stone, its rider low in the saddle. A sword was raised in his hand, angled straight for Livia.
Lionel turned. It was too late. His dagger was still buried in the back of the first attacker. Distance betraying him with every pounding hoofbeat. He could not reach her. He tore himself away and ran towards her.
"My lady!!!" he screamed.
Both women looked back. The rider was upon them, his horse wild-eyed. The sword in his hand caught the dull afternoon light as he raised it high.
There was no time to run. No time to think. With a sharp cry, Bella seized Livia by the shoulders and twisted her away from the blade.