His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

"Diana has a choice," Richard said quietly.

Henry turned so sharply the candlelight caught the fury in his eyes. "Leave, Richard."

Richard held his gaze. Henry’s face had closed.

"And the next time I see your face," Henry said, "I will run you through. Leave!"

Richard bowed, turned and walked out of the king’s chambers. Well, he had done the worst he could do. He had made an enemy out of the King of England. His best friend.

Henry, who had laughed with him, trusted him, and now looked at him like he was one more man who had taken something from him.

Yup, Richard thought bitterly as he strode down the hall. You have done it now.

Henry, meanwhile, seethed. He paced his room, his robe loose at the throat, his hands curling and uncurling at his sides. He still could not believe it.

Livia was here. In Whitehall. A French tutor. He stopped abruptly. French tutor. His mind raced backward, tearing through the past few days with sudden, vicious clarity. Bella. The Cresswell girls. Bella asking if the same tutor could teach her when she returned to Whitehall.

Miss Bellamy. Diana Bellamy. Henry’s breath caught. She taught them? He had no idea Livia could speak French. Even now, she was still amazing him.

Then again, what had he truly known? He had known the girl in stolen moments. The book thief at Cheapside. The woman at Beaumont’s. The one who had made him feel like Henry instead of king.

She was here. His lips curved into a smile. He walked to his bed and pulled the bell. Moments later, Stephen came in.

He had barely finished bowing before Henry spoke.

"I hear Lady Bella has her French tutor in the palace. Find out where she is staying."

He bowed. "Of course, Your Highness."

Then he left to carry out the king’s instructions. It took all of fifteen minutes. Stephen returned with the answer.

The king marched out of his chambers with Stephen close behind. His face was set, his eyes fixed ahead, his mind narrowed to one person and one person alone.

Livia.

Under his roof, breathing his air, hidden behind a new name and a life Richard had built around her.

His blood burned. He did not know whether he wanted to hold her, shake her, beg her forgiveness, or drag Richard back into the room and beat him senseless.

So when the French princess appeared in his path, the irritation was clear on his face. He did not have time for this.

Madeleine stopped before him, dressed beautifully as always, with her hair pinned back and her expression softening the moment she saw his face. "Your Highness," she called. "I was just heading to your chambers."

"Not now, Madeleine."

Stephen, standing behind the king, quietly wished the floor would open and swallow him whole. Madeleine’s gaze moved over Henry’s face, then flicked briefly to Stephen. Whatever she saw there made concern settle into her features.

"Is everything alright?" she asked.

Henry stepped around her. "Not now..." the king growled.

Then he marched away. Madeleine stood frozen for a moment, watching him disappear down the corridor with Stephen hurrying after him. The dismissal stung.

He had not looked at her. Madeleine’s fingers curled at her sides. She turned to Élodie, conversing in their language.

"Find out where he is headed. Make sure you are not observed."

Élodie bowed. "Oui, Votre Altesse."

Madeleine corrected her expression at once, moved on, returning toward the king’s chambers to wait for him there, her mind already working.

Meanwhile, Henry marched toward Lady Bella’s quarters, heading straight for the room where Livia was staying.

Stephen followed closely behind, silent but tense. The king’s stride was swift but as he moved, his thoughts whirled.

What would she say? Would she be angry that he had lied to her? Of course she would be angry. She had known him as Henry the merchant. She had known him as a simple man.

What would she think of him now? Would she look at him with fear? With betrayal? With disappointment?

Would she look at him and see only the crown? Just as they turned into the corridor leading to Lady Bella’s apartments, Henry’s steps faltered.

"Your Highness?" Stephen called.

Henry did not answer. He stood in the corridor, breathing hard, staring ahead as if the door at the far end had become a battlefield.

For the first time since learning she was here, the madness cleared enough for him to understand what he was doing.

He was about to storm into her room with all the force of kingly command behind him. He looked back down the corridor.

Behind one of those doors was Livia. His hands curled slowly at his sides, then loosened. Richard’s accusations filled his head.

Do you love her enough to let her embrace this new life?

Henry hated him for saying it. He hated Richard’s audacity. Hated him because somewhere beneath the betrayal and rage, the question had found truth and sunk its teeth in.

Livia had a new life. A new name. A place in the world.

"Your Highness..." Stephen called once more.

Henry kept walking. Instead of walking past Lady Bella’s room, Henry stopped at it. There were no longer guards posted outside Bella’s door now that her son was gone. He pushed the door open.

Bella looked up from where she sat near the fire, a prayer book open in her lap and a shawl around her shoulders. She quickly got to her feet. "Your Highness." She bowed. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

Henry stood there. He had not thought this through. That was becoming an unfortunate pattern. "Uh..." he stuttered.

Bella straightened. "What can I do for you, my lord?"

Nothing.

Everything.

Tell me about her. Tell me if she speaks of me. Tell me if she is happy. Tell me if Richard has stolen her heart so completely that I should turn around.

"Nothing," Henry said. "Just came to... uh... check on you."

"Thank you, sire," Bella said. "That is thoughtful of you. I would have come to give my greetings this morning, but I was busy making arrangements for my tutor to come to Whitehall."

Henry’s heart gave one violent kick. He forced his face to remain calm. "Yes. I heard."

"She arrived safely," Bella said. "She is resting now."

"She is next door right now?" Henry asked again, as if to confirm he wasn’t dreaming.

"Well," Bella said slowly, "her journey is quite the distance. She comes all the way from Kingsmere. Back and forth in one day would be tedious for a lady."

"Lady Diana Bellamy, right?" he asked.

Bella’s brows lifted. She was surprised he remembered the name. "Yes...Lady Diana Bellamy."

Richard had not merely hidden her. He had renamed her. Rebuilt her into a woman Whitehall could receive without question. A respectable lady.stranger.

Henry’s chest twisted. "Where does she live in Kingsmere?" Henry asked.

"With the Duke of Kingsmere."

Henry’s eyes lifted. "In his house?"

"I believe so, Your Majesty. He himself recommended her to teach my nieces. The Baroness was quite pleased with her."

Henry looked away before his face betrayed too much. In his house. The words burned. He thought of Livia under Richard’s roof, walking his halls, touched by him, fucked by him.

Bella continued, unaware of the storm. "She is very good with the girls. Anne worships her already."

Henry glanced toward the wall that separated Bella’s chamber from the room beside it. She was there. So close. He swallowed. "Right," he said at last. "I’m glad you took proper care."

Bella bowed once more. "Thank you, sire."

Henry gave her a small nod, his hand already on the door. "Well, have a good night’s rest, Bella."

"You too, Your Majesty."

He turned away. The corridor outside felt colder. Stephen fell into step behind him. Henry walked away from Lady Bella’s apartments, leaving that wing behind and heading back toward his own rooms. Every step felt heavier than the one before it. He could still feel the knowledge of her nearness.

He had told Richard he would fight for her, hadn’t he? He had said it with all the fury of a man whose first happiness had been stolen from his hands. He had meant it too. At least he thought he had. But now, standing so close to her, he had faltered like a coward.

Why?

Because Richard’s words had followed him. Because the girl he had known was Livia from Beaumont’s. The woman who had let him be Henry. Just Henry.

The woman sleeping in Whitehall tonight was Diana Bellamy. Richard had not merely hidden her. He had crafted a life around her. He had given her a name that could walk through noble doors without shame snapping at her heels.

Maybe Livia had belonged to Henry’s memories but Diana Bellamy was Richard’s creation. And that meant, in some painful, infuriating way, she belonged to the life Richard had given her.

Meanwhile, Élodie hurried back to the princess, her slippers whispering against the floor as she moved through the corridors with her head bowed and ears open.