His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

The very idea was madness. Henry knew his mother. She would not waste such a weapon on anything simple. Theodora thought in grander terms.

A dirty deal. A dangerous deal. If he agreed, it would come back to bite him in the arse.

*****

Livia dropped into the chair and sighed so deeply one might have thought she had personally carried the carriage from London. "Ooooh," she breathed, sinking back against the cushions. "I missed home."

Warmth spread through her chest. It did feel like home now. After London, Kingsmere felt peaceful.

Richard chuckled lightly behind her. "I would love to stay with you and enjoy the moment, but I must see the steward and discuss estate matters before we begin making preparations for France."

Livia turned her head slowly and stared at him. "We have only just arrived."

"I need firm instructions for the staff in our absence. If you will not be here as duchess, we do have to begin planning now."

France hung between them now, exciting and frightening, a door she had agreed to walk through before properly asking what waited on the other side.

"You cannot take a break first? Just a few minutes?"

He shrugged, as if the matter were nothing. He took his jacket off.

"I thought you said the Lord Chancellor had to put certain things in place before the appointment could be approved," Livia said.

"Yes," he said. "He does."

Livia waited.

Richard sighed. "But the king wants matters arranged before the royal wedding and the formal sealing of the treaties."

Of course he did. How convenient. How bloody convenient.

"Will you have a translator at court?" she asked.

Richard’s mouth tightened. "I do not know anything yet, Livia." He looked uncertain and offended. "I..." He ran a hand through his hair. "I was not expecting this."

"Well," she said, "why not speak to the king if you do not want this, Your Grace?"

"The king is determined. "Apparently," Richard continued, "the current ambassador failed to negotiate properly, and His Majesty believes I will do a better job."

That was horseshit.

Royal horseshit.

She did not say it aloud.

"So the current ambassador failed?" she asked instead.

"So I am told."

"Expectations of your performance would be high then."

Richard sighed.

"I will go find out what is being prepared for dinner in the kitchen," she said.

"No," Richard said. "Come here." He gestured to her with two fingers. "Come stay by me for a bit."

She started toward him. Richard shifted on the bed, already making room, his cravat slightly loosened.

Then the door opened. A woman stood in the doorway. She was tall, severe, and dressed in black wool. Her eyes swept the room once.

Richard shot upright. "What the hell?" he gasped.

The woman’s gaze snapped to him. "Your Grace."

"Tabitha?" he said.

"Your Grace," Mrs. Crowe scolded, "I do not understand why you refuse to listen. His Lordship told me he made it perfectly clear that you are not to be alone with Lady Bellamy, did he not?"

Richard cleared his throat. "Tabitha, Diana. Diana, Mrs. Crowe."

"Your Grace, remove yourself from here immediately."

"I was not doing anything wrong. We were only having a conversation."

"A conversation," Mrs. Crowe said, "may be held in the drawing room, or on a respectable walk where half the household may see you and prevent scandal from breeding in the hedges. It is not held in private chambers with an unmarried young woman." Mrs. Crowe turned to her then, all stern respect. "My lady, I am to be your new lady’s maid. The Lord Chancellor specifically asked that I remain with you until your marriage with the duke is concluded."

"Please tell me you will not be going to France with us," Richard said.

"Wherever my lady is, Your Grace," she said, "there I shall be."

Richard’s face fell. Livia, who had been watching this exchange with growing fascination, almost felt sorry for him.

"I thought," Mrs. Crowe continued, "I told you to remove yourself this instant."

Richard opened his mouth to argue. One look from Mrs. Crowe killed all arguments. "Yes, ma’am," he muttered.

Then, as he got to his feet, he made a face behind her back.

"I saw that," Mrs. Crowe said without turning.

"How do you do that?" he demanded. "What the hell?"

"Practice, Your Grace."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, heading for the door.

At the threshold, Richard turned back, recovering just enough arrogance to aim Livia a playful, exaggerated kiss.

Mrs. Crowe shut the door in his face. The kiss died against the wood.

"Now, my lady," Tabitha said, "let us get you out of your travel clothes and into something comfortable for rest."

"Well, Mrs. Crowe," Livia said carefully, straightening her spine, "I assure you I can take care of myself." She cleared her throat. "I was just about to head to the kitchen to see what would be for dinner and maybe help."

"Nonsense," Mrs. Crowe said.

Livia blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"You are to be a duchess," the woman replied. "You do not go down to the kitchen to inquire after supper. You give instructions."

"But—"

"No buts. I will pass your message to the housekeeper. If there is anything you particularly wish to eat, you may tell me, and I shall see that it is communicated properly."

"Communicated properly," Livia repeated.

"Yes."

"To the kitchen."

"Yes."

"Where I was already going."

"And now you are not."

Livia’s eyes narrowed. Mrs. Crowe moved toward the bed and gave the coverlet one decisive tug, smoothing a wrinkle that had apparently offended her. "Put your feet up and rest, my lady."

Livia inhaled slowly. She liked Mrs. Crowe but admiration was one thing. Being managed was another.

She would not be folded neatly into a chair. "But I do not really know how to sit around and do nothing," Livia said, trying for patience.

Mrs. Crowe looked genuinely puzzled. "You are not doing nothing. You are becoming a duchess. It is a great deal of responsibility."