His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

"I promise," she added quickly. "I will remain inside Whitehall. I will not wander. How would anyone get to me here?"

"This is not only about the Italians. I need Lionel to protect you from my mother too. If I am not here," Henry said, "she will test every boundary I leave behind. Geoffrey will hold authority in my absence, but my mother bends rules in ways that astounds me. That is why Lionel stays."

She looked at Henry. "You must take care of yourself."

"You pretend not to care about me," he said, "and yet you care."

"I..." She looked away, then forced herself back to him. "I do not pretend not to care about you. I just... I’m trying to get used to this new life."

"Yes," Henry said, "it does take some getting used to."

Livia looked at him across the table, still feeling the weight of everything that had happened within the space of one meal.

Henry, however, seemed determined to pretend that something ordinary could still be rescued from the wreckage. "Which is why we can do something simple tonight," he added.

"That does sound promising."

"I thought so."

The rest of the meal passed with fragments of conversation. When the meal ended, Henry walked her back through the palace himself.

At the door to her apartments, Henry paused.

"Lunch was nice," he said.

Livia raised one brow.

He considered the sentence again. "Well. If one excludes my mother’s intrusion, Lionel’s revelation, the threat of war, and the general collapse of peace with France, it was nice."

"That is a great deal to exclude."

"One of the first lessons," Henry said, "is to appreciate the little moments. This place is a madhouse, Livia. If you wait for peace before allowing yourself to breathe, you will suffocate."

Her amusement faded slightly. "I am learning that too." He stepped closer and lifted her face with two fingers beneath her chin.

Then he bent his head and kissed her. Just his mouth brushing hers with affection.

"I shall see you tonight," he said.

She nodded. "See you tonight, Your Majesty."

Henry smiled, then turned away. Livia watched him go until the corridor swallowed him. Only then did she step inside.

*****

Princess Madeleine had been tricked. That was the word she chose because the alternative was unbearable.

Fooled was too humiliating.

Lionel had come to her apartments with a face of grave concern and a lie. Elodie had suffered an accident, he had said.

She had followed like a fool. By the time she realised the passage had turned too quiet, the guards had closed in behind her. By the time she demanded to know where Elodie was, Lionel had stopped before a guarded door in one of Whitehall’s lower chambers. It was a holding room.

Madeleine saw the narrow bed, the single table, the barred window set too high, and the guards waiting inside.

Then she understood. Her blood went cold.

"You cannot leave me here!" she snapped at Lionel.

"No, Princess," Lionel said. "Not yet. Not until we have had a little discussion."

Madeleine stared at him as though he had forgotten not merely his manners, but the entire order of creation.

"The King of England asked you to do this to me? Because of that whore he calls a mistress?"

"His mistress did not make you kill his son, Thomas FitzRoy, did she?"

Madeleine forgot to breathe. "What? What are you saying?" she demanded.

"I am saying Elodie confessed."

Madeleine’s fingers curled into the folds of her gown. The little room suddenly seemed colder. "Elodie confessed to what exactly?" she asked. "If Elodie did anything, it had nothing to do with me."

"She says otherwise."

"Elodie is a maid. I am a princess. She would say whatever you put into her mouth. It is the reason why a maid’s account is not taken seriously in court."

"You confuse English laws for French laws, my lady."

Madeleine lifted her chin. "Elodie was not in England when the king’s bastard died. You have no right to question me."

"I have the king’s command."

"I demand to see him."

"That is not possible."

"I am his betrothed."

"Not anymore."

She forced her voice into coldness. "You will regret this."

"I think France will be very interested to hear that its princess ordered the murder of the King of England’s son." He stepped back. "His Majesty requires either your confession or you will be returned to France as a dead body."

Madeleine’s mouth went dry.

Lionel nodded to the guards. "No letters. No visitors. Food only through men appointed by me."

One guard bowed. "Yes, my lord."

Madeleine’s head snapped up. "You cannot leave me here. I want to see the king."

"The king cannot see you. You are a prisoner under suspicion of murder, attempted murder, and conspiracy against the king’s peace."

"You tell Henry I demand him. You tell him he owes me that."

Lionel looked back. "The king owes you nothing but judgment."

Then he walked out. The door closed behind him. Iron scraped into place. The guards took their posts. Madeleine’s voice rose inside the chamber.

Lionel did not linger. His next destination was the Queen Mother. He had to see Theodora before whatever snare she had already laid around Livia could tighten. Henry had left the woman in Lionel’s care, which was an irony so cruel even God might have smiled at it.

When he reached Theodora’s apartments, he was admitted after only a short delay. Lionel stepped inside and bowed.

"Your Grace..."

"Lord Ashcroft," Theodora drawled, not rising from her chair. "Has my son sent you to insult me some more?"

"No, Your Grace."

She smiled faintly. "How disappointing."

"I come on personal business."

Theodora let out a soft laugh. "I remember you informing me quite plainly that your loyalties did not lie with me."

"They still do not."

"Then this visit grows less charming by the moment."

Lionel lifted his head. "I have come to tell you to withdraw your sword from Miss Valenti."

Her eyes cooled. "Why would I do anything you advise?"

"Because the king has tasked me with protecting her."

Theodora leaned back slightly, studying him. "Is that all?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"How wonderfully simple." She gave him a look of polished disbelief. "The audacity you carry, Lord Ashcroft, is impressive. Mostly, I find it plain stupid. You believe you can walk into my apartments, and instruct me in what I may or may not do?"

"His Majesty ordered me to keep Miss Valenti alive and unharmed in his absence. I intend to obey him. If harm comes near her, I will stop it. If a servant carries poison, I will find it. If a guard opens the wrong door, I will hang him from it. If one of your little birds flies too close to her chamber, I will break its wings and send the feathers back to you."

Theodora tilted her head. "And what happens if your noble protection leads to me?"

"Then I tell the king."

"You would tell him nothing."

"I would."

"No, Lord Ashcroft." Her voice softened, becoming far more dangerous. "You would not. You came to me. You placed a sword in my hand because you did not want the little Italian near my son any more than I did." Her eyes gleamed. "All I did was swing."

Lionel’s mouth flattened. "I did not ask you to kill her."

"But you knew I would." Theodora rose at last. "Everyone comes to me when they want something difficult done. And yet, you all see me as the menace. The hypocrisy."

Lionel held her gaze. "The king has placed her life in my hands."

"How touching."

"I will thwart your plans, Your Grace," Lionel said quietly. "Whatever they are. I will not spare your name if I find it behind any attempt on her life."

"You cannot speak my name without speaking your own."

"I know."

"And when Henry hears that you helped bring danger near his precious Livia?" Theodora stepped closer. "What then? Will he thank you for your honesty? Will he clap you on the shoulder and say, ’Well done, old friend, you nearly helped murder the woman I love? No," she whispered. "We go down together, you and I."

Lionel bowed again. "That is all I came to say."

She returned to her chair. "Then get out of my chambers."

Lionel straightened. There was nothing more to gain here. He turned and left her apartments without another word.

Once the doors closed behind him, Lionel paused in the gallery and drew a slow breath. That was the thing about partnering with Theodora. One always discovered, sooner or later, that he had helped dig his own grave.

He began walking, already turning over possibilities. More guards outside her apartments. Food inspected. Wine sealed. No maid admitted without being known.

Surely, the queen mother wouldn’t allow an assassin into Whitehall, but leaving Whitehall was another issue.