His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

"The king believes you have Livia," Lionel blurted out. He braced himself expecting anger. It did not come. Lionel wished he had been shouted at.

"Why would he think that?" Richard asked at last. "I hadn’t even heard the name until today."

It wasn’t a lie and yet it made Richard hate himself. He should have felt only guilt. He should have confessed. He should have told Lionel that Livia had been under his roof.

But instead, the first thing that rose in him was offence. Henry had ordered Kingsmere to be searched.

His home. His estate.

"I think the king is merely suspicious of everyone at this point," Lionel said carefully.

"Even me?" Richard asked.

Lionel sighed. "Like I said, please do not take offence."

"That is very easy to request when you are not the one whose household is lined up like thieves outside his own door."

Lionel held his gaze. "If I had any choice, I would not be here."

Richard looked away first, jaw tight.

Lionel lowered his voice. "I wish I had some sort of magic ball that would show me exactly where the lady is. It would save me this great embarrassment."

Richard glanced back at his servants. "I do not have this Livia, Lionel. Tell the king so. You may ask me not to take offence, but I do take offence. Not because he doesn’t have the right. He is king. He has the right to tear every stone from this house if it pleases him. But because I thought our friendship transcended a situation such as this."

"My apologies, Your Grace," Lionel said, bowing.

Richard’s jaw remained tight. "Are you done with the search?"

"I didn’t go in," Lionel answered. "I merely asked that everyone be brought out. And yes, I am done. I shall give the king my report."

Richard gave a curt nod. There was nothing else to say. What was there to say without saying too much? So he stood there, looking every inch the offended duke, while Lionel turned away and headed back to his horse.

He mounted heavily. He had ridden too far, slept too little, and served a king whose heart was becoming more dangerous than his crown. He felt defeated, useless even. Every path had led nowhere. Every clue had become smoke. Every person questioned had claimed not to know a damn thing.

And now this. Henry had ordered his best friend’s estate searched. Lionel could understand desperation. He had seen enough of it in men facing death. This was Henry allowing suspicion to chew through loyalty.

He wondered why the king would not consider his friendship with the duke first, before anything else.

Then again, Lionel thought as he pulled his horse toward the road, love had a nasty habit of making fools of men.

Richard watched Lionel leave. Only when the horse moved down the road did he let his expression slip. His eyes drifted toward the road beyond the estate. He prayed that Diana was still at the Creswell’s. Still unaware that the king’s men had come looking for her under his roof.

If she had returned early... Richard’s stomach tightened. No. She had to still be there. For once in his life, he needed luck to behave.

The steward approached cautiously. "Your Grace?"

"Send everyone back in."

"Yes, Your Grace."

"And no one speaks of this."

"Of course, Your Grace." The man bowed and hurried away.

Richard remained where he was, staring at the road until Lionel disappeared fully from sight. He wasn’t ready. He had not decided yet. He did not know if he should let her go, hand her over to the king, or keep her for himself. He knew the honourable answer. He simply hated it.

Henry loved her. He was looking for her. He was suffering, and Richard had stood in front of him and lied through his teeth like a selfish bastard.

"Damn it," he muttered.

Ultimately, Diana had to make the decision for herself. Richard could not make it for her. He could pretend for a few more days that the world outside Kingsmere had no claim on her. But he could not choose her future and still call it freedom. That would make him no better than every man who had ever placed her life in his hands.

Besides, from the very beginning, he had already been on the losing side. Henry had her promise.

Henry had her longing. He walked back to the courtyard. The stable boy led his horse away, but Richard remained where he was.

He stood in the courtyard as dusk gathered around Kingsmere, watching the road beyond the gates with his heart in his hand.

Just one more time. Let Diana come home one more time before everything changed. Just one more time.

Then he would decide what sort of man he was going to be or perhaps she would decide for him.

Lionel, meanwhile, was determined to reach London quickly enough to get some rest before the king found another impossible order to throw at his head. He rode like the wind.

The journey was roughly three hours, and the sun was already setting, spilling dull gold across the road and fields. His body ached from the ride to Kingsmere.

In the distance, he saw a carriage approaching. He thought nothing of it. Kingsmere had a handful of noble families nearby. A carriage was not odd.

Lionel lowered his head against the evening wind and rode on. He breezed past the carriage Livia was in.

Livia merely turned her head a little, watching the rider disappear down the road in a blur of horse, cloak, and urgency. She leaned back in her seat and let the curtain fall.

The carriage rolled on toward Kingsmere, its wheels crunching over the road. The day had left her pleasantly tired. Her mind had worked. Her tongue had taught. Her presence had been useful.

She smiled faintly. Diana Bellamy. The name still felt borrowed. She wondered how long the duke planned to stay in London.