His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

Richard arrived back home that night after two days in London to find Diana waiting on the front steps.

She was wrapped in a shawl, cheeks touched by the evening chill, looking healthier. She looked beautiful standing there, beneath the light of the moon. She stood the moment he dismounted, basically bouncing on her feet.

Richard knew at once that her excitement was not for him. That stung more than it should have. And he accepted that he was jealous. Jealous that this excitement wasnt meant for him.

She was not waiting because she had missed his face, his voice, his charm, or any of the other gifts God had so generously given him and then apparently forgotten to teach her to appreciate. No. She was waiting for news of her mysterious Henry. The merchant. The lover.

The more time Richard spent with her, the more he realised he did not want this mysterious merchant to have her.

So he would hide her for as long as he could.

"My lord," Livia said, bowing slightly. "Welcome back." She tried to contain her excitement, but failed miserably. Her eyes were too bright. Her hands tightened in her shawl.

Richard handed his reins to a waiting groom and looked her over. "You look happy to see me."

"I am."

"Is there something in my pockets you need, or something in my breeches?"

After days in his house, she had become painfully used to his wicked little comments.

"Any news?" she asked, ignoring him entirely.

Richard felt the small, ugly twist in his chest again. He smiled through it. Jealousy over a nameless merchant should be easy. "No," he said. He was not lying.

Not exactly. If one looked at it from the right angle, turned one’s head slightly, and closed one eye, it was almost the truth.

"At least, not the news you want," he continued. "I searched in the merchants’ district." Now there was the actual lie. "Interesting thing, there are none named Henry matching your description."

Livia’s face fell. "None?" she asked.

"Usually, that name is reserved for noblemen."

"Oh..." Livia sighed.

It was a small sound, but Richard heard all the disappointment inside it. Damn the mysterious Henry. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

Damn him for existing and damn Richard for feeling jealous.

"But," Richard added, removing his gloves slowly, "I do have news."

Livia looked up at once. Hope returned to her face.

"Beaumont’s establishment has been shut down," he said. "By order of the Crown."

Her eyes widened. "Oh my God," she breathed. "It must be the old man. The one who wanted to marry me."

"Ah." Richard’s mouth tightened. "The half-dead corpse. But I don’t really know the king to get involved in such trivial matters."

Livia turned back sharply. "You know the king?!"

He gave a long, tired sigh. "I am a duke, Diana. Of course I know the king. Besides, we grew up together. Same tutors. Same lessons."

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you bragging because you think bragging will earn you some favours?"

Richard paused on the step and looked at her. He gestured toward the house. "I would answer you honestly if you would at least let me get inside my house. I have been away for two days already."

Livia suddenly seemed to remember herself. "I’m sorry. I’m sorry." She stepped aside quickly, cheeks warming. "Of course, welcome."

Richard stepped into the house, and Livia fell into step beside him as naturally as if she had always belonged there. "And to answer your question," Richard said, stretching his shoulders, "I am not bragging. I consider the king to be my best friend."

"So, you do not have issues with the fact that he had his seven brothers killed?"

Richard stopped. The humour left his face so quickly that Livia almost stepped back. His expression soured instantly.

He turned to her slowly with hardened eyes. "You shouldn’t believe everything you hear."

Livia lifted both hands slightly. "Come on, I’m not bad-mouthing him." She tilted her head. "But it is too much to be called coincidence, isn’t it? Seven brothers? All dead? Everyone thinks the same."

Richard’s jaw tightened. "His Majesty is a good man," Richard said. "He wouldn’t hurt a fly."

"Okay... okay. Clearly, matters of monarchy are where you draw the line. You look like you are about to murder me."

Richard’s eyes flicked over her. The corner of his mouth lifted. "That’s a salacious thought," he said, "but not murder in the sense you think."

Then she groaned. "Ughhhh!"

Richard’s grin returned fully. She turned and walked off, exasperated. "Hey!" Richard called after her. "I thought you were walking with me!"

"Not until you brush your teeth of all that filth that manages to leak out of your mouth."

Richard stopped in the middle of the hall, hand pressed dramatically to his chest. "Ouch! And here I thought I was being an excellent flirt."

She continued down the corridor, her shawl gathered around her shoulders, moving more confidently now than she had two days ago. "Keep trying!" Livia called back.

Richard’s eyes lit up. "So there is a chance if I keep trying?"

"Ughhhhhh!" She threw her hands in the air and continued toward her quarters.

Richard chuckled. The hall felt quieter the moment she disappeared around the corner. He had only known her properly for days, yet somehow his own house felt emptier whenever she left a room.

The girl was young, yes, but she had brains far beyond her age. God help him, he liked her.

Not just wanted her. That would have been simple. He had wanted plenty of women. Desire was easy. It came, it burned, it bored, it left.

This was different.

Richard headed toward his own quarters, already thinking of wine, hot water, clean clothes, and possibly sleeping for an entire day. He had just reached his door when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned.

Livia was there again, slightly breathless, one hand braced against the wall.

His expression changed at once. "You should not be running."

"I forgot to tell you something."

Richard leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, his humour returning. "Oh?"

"Uh..." Livia shifted where she stood. "I don’t want to just stay here and live off you."

"Diana—"

"I mean it." She folded her hands in front of her. "I don’t know if you have any jobs around here I can do. I cannot afford to pay you rent, but I can save enough to move away as soon as I can."

"Ah... yeah," he said slowly. "It depends on your skills. What can you do?"

"Well, I... uhm..." She looked down, embarrassed now. "I used to be a servant at Beaumont’s. So I can clean and cook. I can also read and write," she added.

Richard’s face changed. "Is that so?"

"Yes."

"I speak Italian, French, and English fluently," she listed. "I can read Latin slowly, though I do not enjoy it, and I can keep household accounts."

Richard straightened from the doorframe. He looked genuinely startled. "I don’t understand," he said. "How did you learn all these?"

"My mother taught me."

Richard’s brow drew together. The pieces did not fit. A girl educated in languages, letters, accounts did not simply drift into Beaumont’s house. "Then how the fuck did you end up at Beaumont’s?" he asked.

"My father sold me."

"You have got to be kidding me!" Richard snapped. "Your own father," Richard asked, "or stepfather?"

"My biological father."

For once, he had no witty remark waiting. No filthy joke.

"I lived in Florence with my mother," she said. "She was... educated. She taught me. She said a woman should know enough." Livia smiled faintly, but it faded quickly. "When she was dying, she told me about my father and where to find him. She said he would take care of me."

"And so you went to him."

"I had no one else. I thought perhaps he did not know about me. I thought perhaps he would be surprised, then happy. He had a whole other family," Livia continued. "A wife. Children. A proper house. A proper life. I suppose I was an inconvenience."

"That bastard."

She gave a small shrug. "I guess he didn’t want me around."

"So he sold you?"

"Yes."

Richard turned away, dragging a hand through his hair. "That’s just sad."

"I know." Livia shrugged again. "But water under the bridge."

"I guess," Richard said slowly, "I can get you something that is a step up from being a servant."

Her eyes lifted. "Okay... what’s that?"

"A position that uses that sharp little mind of yours instead of wasting it scrubbing floors."

"I do not mind honest work."

"I do. On your behalf." He smiled. "You, my dear, are going to be a teacher. But first, we have to change your appearance."

"I don’t understand."

"We cannot let anyone from beaumont’s recognise you. So you have to change your look, your name. You have to be employable by nobles."

"Oooooh.... I don’t think there is much that can be changed about me." Livia sighed, looking down at her borrowed clothes.