His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

She had hired a professional. Not those cheap, clumsy dogs Nicholas Beaumont’s girls might have scraped from an alley. The rider had been meant to finish what the masked men began.

But Livia lived.

"You forget yourself, Lionel," Theodora said.

"No." His voice hardened. "You forget yourself. I warned you...Did I not?"

"You warned me?" She laughed softly. "You speak as though you are in command of anything."

"I am in command of myself. That is more than I have been able to claim since I first let you speak to me."

Her gaze narrowed as she set her cup down with great care. "You cannot threaten me. That requires power. What is the worst Henry will do to me if he learns?" she asked. "Banishment, perhaps. But you?" Her smile widened. "Your head would be on the block before I finished the Lord’s Prayer."

"I do not care. I do not," he said again. "I will tell the king everything when he returns."

"Everything? Including your part?" Theodora leaned back against the chaise. "The honourable Lord Ashcroft. The Crown’s most faithful dog, finally remembering the leash was around his own throat. Besides no one died who mattered enough to justify this fury," Theodora said.

"What did you say?"

She lifted her shoulders. "The Italian lives, apparently. So why are you this angry?"

"Bella died. Bella died saving her."

For the first time, Theodora looked mildly inconvenienced.

"A shame," she said. "I always knew that whore was bad luck." Her Grace sighed. "Look what she has done to such a sweet girl."

Lionel’s vision darkened at the edges. "Hear me well, Theodora. I will warn you now. If there is another attempt on Miss Valenti’s life, I will not wait for His Majesty. I will come here and I will drive my dagger through your heart."

"That," she said softly, "is treason. You would die for that Italian whore?"

"If I must die, Your Grace, I might as well die swinging."

Her Grace’s eyes were pale and murderous. "You are a fool."

He turned towards the door, then stopped. "One more thing. Bella was mother to the king’s son...Thomas FitzRoy’s mother will not be treated like street refuse because she died in a trap you laid. Do what you must to see she is given a proper burial."

Then he turned on his heel.

"Good day, Your Grace," he finished, and stormed out of the room the same way he had come into it.

*****

For the next several days, Whitehall smelled of mourning. It was in the way voices lowered before they reached certain doors. In the way servants crossed themselves when Bella’s name was spoken.

Lady Bella Cresswel was dead. Livia’s failed assassination had left too many loose threads, and Lionel had moved too slowly to gather them.

Theodora had moved faster. By the time Lionel reached Beaumont’s former girls, the women were dead. All of them. Food poisoning, they said.

Jane was among them. Lionel did not know what to tell Miss Valenti except the truth. He could not lie to her. Henry had trusted him with her life, but the king had left him no command for what to do when keeping her alive meant handing her grief instead.

Someone had to know what he had found. Someone had to know Theodora was cleaning house because if Her Grace had begun sweeping away loose ends, Lionel suspected his own head might soon roll neatly into the dustpan.

He reached Livia’s apartments near dusk. The guard outside announced him, and after a brief wait, the door opened.

Tabitha stood there. "Lord Ashcroft."

"Mrs Crowe."

Heavy hangings had been drawn against the chill, and the fire burned low in the hearth. A tray sat untouched on the table: bread, broth, stewed fruit. None of it looked disturbed.

Livia sat near the window, though she was not looking out. She sat still, hands folded in her lap, her body present but her mind somewhere behind the blood on the road from the abbey. She had lost weight in only a few days.

Grief had taken it from her quickly. Her cheeks were hollowed slightly, her collarbones sharper beneath the dark gown Tabitha must have chosen for mourning.

"How is she?" he asked quietly.

Tabitha’s mouth tightened. "As you see."

"She is not eating?"

"Enough to remain alive. Not enough to be called living. Lady Bella was a great friend to her," Tabitha continued, her voice low. "Her only friend. She blames herself...I do not know what to say to her," Tabitha admitted. "Any news of the king?"

Lionel swallowed. "There has been no fresh word. By my reckoning, His Majesty’s party should have reached France by now. If the crossing was kind and the roads did not delay them."

"And his return?"

"Another week. Perhaps two. Depending on how long his business holds him there."

Tabitha exhaled. "I fear only His Majesty can draw her out of this rot."

The king would want blood. The terrible thing was, Lionel might hand him the blade. He stepped farther into the chamber.

"Miss Valenti."

Livia stirred. Her eyes lifted to him. Hope came through. "Lionel...Any word? Anything?"

He met Livia’s eyes. "I am afraid there is nothing that can tie Her Grace to Lady Bella’s death."

"So she gets away with it?" Livia cried.

"I did not finish, my lady."

Livia’s breath shook. "Then finish."

Lionel drew in a slow breath. "There is nothing that can tie Her Grace to Lady Bella’s death. Except me."

Livia stared at him. "What does that mean?"

Lionel’s eyes moved briefly to Tabitha, then back to Livia. "It means I know how she came close enough to strike at you."

Livia’s hands curled into fists at her sides. "Then say it."

"A few weeks ago," Lionel said, "shortly before His Majesty was to wed Princess Madeleine, I received word from Jane in the gaol. She sent warning that you were in danger. The king set aside the wedding soon after."