His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

Richard turned to his father. "Father, I received your message. I thought it best to discuss it in person."

"Of course," Geoffrey said, in the tone of a man who would have preferred discussion by letter and possibly a locked gate.

Richard’s gaze shifted. "My lady."

Livia did not want to look up. She could feel Henry’s eyes on her. He was watching for fear, watching to see whether she would disappear into herself the moment Richard stepped near.

Five minutes ago, Geoffrey had told her not to cower.

Five minutes.

Livia drew a slow breath then she lifted her head. She squared her shoulders, set her cup down with more calm than she felt, and looked directly at Richard. "Your Grace...it is good to see you. You look quite well."

Richard had not prepared for her. She sat before him, terrifyingly beautiful. Glorious was the word that came to him. "I..." he began, cleared his throat. "Yes. Thank you."

Henry lowered his cup slightly. "I propose the Duke of Kingsmere find himself a seat before he drops to the ground."

Livia turned at once and gave Henry a scolding look. Henry, shameless monarch that he was, merely hid his smile behind his cup.

Geoffrey looked as if he was ageing by the minute.

Livia looked back at Richard. "How is Kingsmere?"

"It thrived in my absence, thankfully," he said. "There is not much to do."

Richard moved towards the chairs. He chose one near his father because there was nowhere else safe to sit. Near Livia would be agony. Near Henry would be provocation. He lowered himself into the chair.

The tea service resumed. Cups were filled. An awkward silence fell over the group. Geoffrey looked at all three of them and felt his soul attempt to leave his body.

He would have withdrawn from the chamber to give the stupid triangle room to destroy itself in private, except His Majesty formed one side of the stupid triangle. The king could not simply be abandoned.

Richard was the first to break the silence. "I hear I should offer my congratulations, Your Majesty,"

Henry’s gaze lifted.

"On the wedding. I did not think you had it in you."

Livia’s fingers tightened around her cup.

Henry leaned back slightly. "I took your advice."

"You told me," Henry continued, "that if I truly loved her, I would marry her."

Richard gave a quiet breath. "Yes. I did say that. I should learn to keep my mouth shut, should I not?"

"No," Henry said. "It was excellent advice." His eyes did not leave Richard. "I have never been happier in my entire life."

It was cruel because it was true. If Henry had boasted only to wound him, Richard could have accepted it with a pinch of salt. But there was real happiness in the king’s voice. Henry was not merely taking victory. He was living it.

Richard’s jaw tightened. "We all know the saying...As happy as a king. I suppose that is because their happiness comes from other men’s intended."

Livia’s stomach twisted. Henry’s face hardened, but his smile remained.

"I think," Henry said, "the lesson you should draw from that is that kings always win."

"Boys!" Geoffrey’s voice thundered through the chamber.

Everyone stopped.

Even Henry.

"Would you both pretend to behave yourselves?" he snapped.

Livia wished the ground would open beneath her. Truly, now would have been an excellent time to die from the poison. At least Livia would no longer be sitting between two men politely trying to stab each other with sentences.

Geoffrey looked from Henry to Richard, his patience visibly bleeding out. "If you have nothing useful to do with your mouths, why not stuff them with cakes?" He pointed towards the tray. "This house has provided a great many peaceful options for your mouths, and yet you have both chosen foolishness. Do you not think this madness is embarrassing Lady Livia?"

Henry turned towards her at once. "I am sorry."

At the very same moment, Richard bowed his head.

"I am sorry."

Their apologies collided in the air. Life had become absurd.

Painfully absurd.

Livia took a careful breath and set her cup down. She straightened in her chair, folded her hands calmly in her lap, and allowed her voice to come out steady. "We came to express our gratitude to his lordship."

"Yes," Richard said, holding Livia’s gaze. "I received my father’s letter last night. You are to be sponsored by the family."

"It is quite generous. It will also avoid too much scrutiny."

Richard swallowed.

Goddammit.

He could not do it. He had ridden from Kingsmere with anger in his blood. He had come prepared to confront his father, to demand that the Langford name be removed from Henry’s marriage plans.

Then he had walked into the chamber and seen her and suddenly the argument collapsed. If the Langford name protected her, then she could have it.

If his family’s respectability stood between her and every noble bastard waiting to sneer at the woman Henry meant to crown, then she could have that too.

Richard would have given her far more than a surname placed behind her. He would still give her anything she asked of him. "Well," he said, forcing a smile that felt as though it had been carved into his face with a dull knife, "what can I say? Welcome to the family."

"Thank you, Richard."

The room seemed to fall away. There was only Livia sitting across from him, looking at him as if she understood exactly what this cost him.

And she did. Her guilt came back in hundredfold. Richard had loved her in the only way he had known how. Henry loved her like a fire that wanted to burn down every wall in England. Neither love was simple.

But what could she do? Still, looking at Richard, she wished life had been kinder. Richard’s fingers itched to close the distance between them. The urge came so violently that he had to bite down on his tongue. He wanted to ask whether any part of her still remembered the life they had nearly built.

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