His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

Tabitha lingered near the bed until the physician gathered his case.

Stephen touched her elbow gently. "Mrs Crowe."

She nodded. Together, Stephen and Tabitha escorted the physician into the outer chamber. Stephen spoke briefly to a guard, issuing instructions. Then he turned back to Tabitha.

For one moment, neither of them said anything.

At last, Tabitha exhaled. "It is so good to see you, Stephen."

Stephen’s mouth curved, but the smile did not reach his eyes. "Yes, I am sure it is. It must have been dreadful in our absence."

"You have no idea," she said. "So many things have happened, Stephen. So many dreadful, cruel things."

"I gathered as much."

"One of the painful things," she said carefully, "is Lady Bella’s death."

"Oh my God," Stephen whispered. "Please," he said, his voice low. "Please tell me the Queen Mother had nothing to do with that."

Tabitha hesitated. If she said too much, Lionel would be exposed. Livia had said she did not want the king told.

Yet silence sat badly in her mouth.

"Mrs Crowe?" Stephen called softly.

Tabitha seized the safer subject. "How are you back so soon? I thought it would take at least another week."

"Actually, Lady Livia made the journey rather efficient."

Tabitha frowned. "I do not understand."

"She gave me a message to deliver to the duke. She told him to choose the path that leads home. His Majesty did not have to do much talking," Stephen continued. "The duke made his decision almost immediately."

"Richard agreed to return?"

"He did. We did not even stop to exchange all the proper courtesies with the French king. Once the duke had chosen, we turned back at once."

"Thank the heavens for small mercies," Tabitha said.

Footsteps sounded farther up the corridor. Both of them turned. Lord Ashcroft approached from the direction of the lower passage. He had clearly stopped by his own chamber before coming to the king. He had time enough to wash his face, comb his hair, and change into a cleaner doublet.

"Lord Ashcroft," Tabitha called.

Lionel looked up. "Where is she?" he asked. "How is—" He could not finish the question. He looked afraid.

"She will be fine," Tabitha said quickly.

Lionel stopped. His breath left him in a quiet, shuddering sigh. "Thank God," he whispered.

Then his gaze shifted. "Stephen."

"My lord," Stephen said, giving him a small bow. "Forgive me, but you look terrible."

"Terrible looks better on me than dead, does it not?"

"True."

"Speaking of dead," Tabitha said.

Lionel’s eyes returned to her. She stepped forward, caught his arm, and drew him a few feet away from Stephen.

Tabitha lowered her voice. "My lady does not want the king informed about your entanglement with the Queen Mother."

"Mrs Crowe. You do not know what you ask."

"Livia needs every living shield."

Lionel’s voice dropped. "I cannot hide this from him."

"She barely has anyone on her side," Tabitha said, softer now. ""She will need you. You want penance?" Her voice hardened. "This is your penance." She saw the battle in his face as she spoke.

At last, Lionel bowed his head. He drew in a long breath, then released it slowly. He turned and entered the king’s inner chamber.

Livia lay upon the bed, covered carefully, her face still pale. Henry lay beside her, his fingers entangled with hers.

His eyes were closed. Lionel took one quiet step back. He assumed the king was asleep. Just as he was about to turn away, Henry spoke. "Next time," Henry said, without opening his eyes, "kill her."

Lionel stopped at the threshold and turned slowly. "Your Majesty."

"I cannot do this anymore," he said. "I cannot," Henry repeated. "Does it make me a terrible person that I want my own mother dead?" His throat worked. "And that I want to do it myself?"

Truthfully, the only thing tethering Henry to the present was Livia’s hand in his. He could not stop seeing the bodies.

The dead gathered behind his eyes. Holding Livia in his arms earlier, feeling the horrible weight of her limpness against his chest, had shown him what he had refused to understand. The deaths would continue to pile up for as long as Theodora lived.

"My lord," Lionel said, "I failed you."

Henry’s eyes remained shut. "She lives today. How about tomorrow?"

Lionel lowered his head. "I would die first."

Henry finally opened his eyes and turned his head towards him. He had known Lionel would eventually see Livia. Truly see her. Not as danger, or the woman who had overturned the king’s good sense, but as the rare, beautiful soul Henry had recognised. Once, Henry might have taken some grim satisfaction in being proven right.

Now he could not even gather the strength to enjoy it.

"You may brief me on everything that has happened when she wakes," Henry said. "All of it."

Lionel’s jaw tightened. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"In the meantime, prepare the executioner. Princess Madeleine is to be executed."

Lionel bowed. "Yes, my lord. I shall have Lord Langford draft the warrant." He bowed once more and withdrew.

Henry turned fully back to Livia and lifted her hand to his lips. "Wake up," he whispered. "I can’t live without you."

*****

Richard stood before his father’s house on Chancery Lane as the carriage rolled to a halt. His father’s house stood solidly among the others.

The carriage stopped. A servant opened the door. Geoffrey stepped down. He looked exhausted. Yet when he saw Richard, relief moved across his face.

"Richard..."

"Father," Richard said.

Geoffrey embraced his son.

"It is good to see you," Richard said quietly.

Geoffrey held him a fraction longer. "I was afraid you would be stubborn and refuse to return," Geoffrey said when he finally drew back.

Richard’s mouth curved faintly. "The king was quite convincing, I suppose."

The truth was simpler and more painful. Richard had returned because Livia had asked him to choose the path that leads home.

Geoffrey studied his son’s face . He had many things to tell Richard. But he was not about to inform his son, that the woman he had once meant to marry was lying half-dead in the king’s chamber. "You look well," Geoffrey said instead.

Richard glanced down at himself. "Do I?"

"Foreign service suits you."

"It takes some getting used to." Richard looked towards the house. "I hear we are on the verge of war with France."

"A justified one," Geoffrey said.

Richard’s expression darkened. "A murderer for a queen. The empty throne must have something against them."

Geoffrey frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The throne rejected one murderer before," Richard said. "It is rejecting another now."

"I do not understand."

Richard looked at him then, and there was something in his eyes Geoffrey did not like. "Father...you truly did not think Henry came to the throne by chance, did you?"

Geoffrey felt the first unpleasant stir of dread in his chest. "Do not say what I think you are saying. So my son has returned from France with treason sitting prettily on his tongue."

"Livia’s words showed me the way, Father. She said choose home. I am choosing home."

"Home is not a battlefield."

"It becomes one when murderers sit too comfortably in its highest chambers."

Geoffrey stared at him. "What are you saying?"

"I am saying that Henry’s throne was built on blood. I am saying England cannot keep kneeling before murderers. I will start a rising if I must," Richard said. "I will take the throne away from murderers."

Geoffrey almost had a heart attack on the spot. He actually placed one hand against his chest. "Have you gone mad? All these for a woman?!"

"No," Richard said. "Not at all. The crown is supposed to be for the people."

"Henry has done more for the people than the kings before him," Geoffrey said. "You know that."

"And yet he stood by and watched his brothers be cut down one by one."

Geoffrey stared at his son. "And how would you know that?"

Richard’s jaw tightened. "Because, Father, he told me."

Geoffrey stopped breathing for a second. He knew Henry carried old grief. The dead princes had never truly left Whitehall. But to say Henry had known? To say he had stood by? The boy didn’t even want the throne in the first place. "Richard...it has been a very long day. You will come inside, eat something, drink something and sleep before you say another word that may require me to arrest you and wait for your execution."

"You have just informed the Lord Chancellor of England that you intend to take down the king. As promised to His Majesty, I have a list of eligible ladies for you to consider tomorrow. Perhaps the thought of marriage will remove the cobweb of treason from your mouth."

"Yes. The promise of marriage. How convenient. As if a new woman placed before me could quench what I feel for Diana."

Geoffrey’s patience, which had been living on borrowed time since Whitehall, finally limped towards collapse.