His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

Inside, Henry remained frozen. The moment the door snapped shut, something in Henry went mad.

He swept the nearest table clean with one violent arm. Cups shattered. Papers flew. The wine jug struck the floor and split open, red spilling across the floor. He tore at the curtains until the rings screamed against the rod. He drove his fist into the wall again and again, barely feeling the pain.

Stephen burst into the room. "Your Highness!"

The crown sat on a side table. The thing everyone had worshipped. The thing that had made him untouchable.

He snatched it up. Stephen stopped dead in the doorway. Henry hurled the crown at the wall.

"Your Highness!" Stephen’s voice cracked through the chamber. He rushed forward with both arms out as if he could catch the king. The crown had struck the wall and fallen hard against the floorboards, rolling once before settling on its side.

"Your Highness," he tried again.

Henry’s eyes were open, but they were not fixed on anything in the room. He looked as if he were staring past the walls, past Whitehall, past England itself, into some terrible abyss only he could see.

Something had come loose in him.

"Help!" Stephen shouted toward the door.

Two guards appeared almost at once. No man wanted to lay hands on a king. There were laws, punishments, superstitions, and a very practical fear of losing one’s head for touching sacred royal flesh without permission.

Then Henry lurched toward the wall again.

"Now!" Stephen snapped.

It took both guards to restrain him. Henry fought without seeming to know he was fighting, breath ragged, his face twisted with a horror that had no language left. Stephen backed away only when he was certain the guards had him, then turned and ran for the royal physician.

By the time Stephen reached the outer passage, the truth had already begun grasping at his soul. The king had gone mad.

*****

Lionel had been charged with escorting Livia back to Kingsmere. Then, once her engagement was broken and whatever remained of her life had been packed, he was to escort her onward to the house in Covent Garden. He rode ahead of the carriage, one hand firm on the reins, his eyes fixed on the road.

Whitehall had become unbearable.

The carriage wheels turned behind him. Inside sat a woman being carried back to destroy her own happiness.

In front of him waited the man she would have to destroy.

By late afternoon, Kingsmere appeared beyond the trees. As they approached the gates to the manor, Lionel slowed his horse.

Of all the duties he had been given in service to the Crown, this one felt the most dishonourable. He could face a blade more easily than Richard’s eyes. What was he supposed to say? That Theodora had arranged it?

One thing he was sure he was not looking forward to was seeing Richard. He had no words.

Livia stepped down from the carriage with her maid at her side. She had managed to compose herself during the journey.

It had not been hard. The royal family had done something worse than break her heart. They had emptied it.

There was no room left for tears.

She entered the house. In her chamber, she crossed to the wardrobe and yanked the doors open. Her fingers closed around the nearest gown and tore it from the rail.

Then another.

Then another.

She threw them onto the bed in a growing heap. The door opened. Tabitha entered first.

"My lady..." she began, then stopped. Her sharp eyes took in everything at once. "You have returned," Tabitha said carefully.

Livia pulled another gown from the wardrobe. She did not have the heart to face her.

"Why is the king’s guard still waiting outside?" Tabitha asked.

Livia’s hand tightened around the fabric. "I do not want to talk, Tabitha, please." Livia’s voice came out flat. "Could you give me a minute?"

"Did something happen in Whitehall?"

The gown slipped from Livia’s hand and fell soundlessly onto the others. "Tabitha... please."

"I will go and fetch His Grace," Tabitha said and left quickly.

Less than a minute later, the door opened again. Richard entered as if he had run.

"Diana?" Her name left his mouth with fear already inside it. He took in the room in one glance.

Livia turned to him fully. The question she had been carrying since Theodora’s chamber finally tore free. "Did you know? All this time...did you know?"

Richard turned toward Tabitha, who had remained by the door, her eyes moving between them. "Please, Tabitha...Give us some time."

Tabitha bowed. "As you wish, Your Grace." She closed the door behind her.

Livia turned away first. "I am guessing you did."

"Diana—"

She went back to the wardrobe and began pulling out only the things that truly belonged to her. There were not many. A few shifts. A plain gown. Nearly everything else had been purchased by Richard.

"Please," Richard said behind her. "Listen to me."

She folded one of her garments with hands that refused to steady. "I do not have the time. I am returning to London."

He took a step toward her. "Why?" he asked. "You’re leaving me?"

"Is that what you were afraid of?" Livia asked. "That I would leave you?"

Richard’s face crumpled. "Yes...Yes. Diana, please...Please. Please, please... just talk to me. Let us talk about this."

Livia turned to him. Her eyes burned. The sight of his pain hurt her. "I want to be mad," she said, voice trembling. "I want to be angry at you, but I cannot be. I cannot bring myself to be."

"Then tell me what you feel," he pleaded. "Please. I would take you being mad. I would take you screaming at me, striking me if you had to. I would take anything over watching you walk out of this house."

Livia swallowed.

"Diana..." His voice dropped. "Do not do this. I cannot take this."

(Brought to you by Mar King 3/3)