His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

Chapter 131: Don’t Make Any Rash Decisions

"Imprisoned even." Henry added.

"I know that you feel betrayed, my lord. You have every right to. But please, don’t make any rash decisions."

Rash decisions. Was that what they were calling it now? The ruin in his chest? The fury clawing at his ribs? The image of Richard fucking Livia?

He walked toward Lionel slowly. "If I asked you to kill Richard, Lionel...Would you?"

Lionel swallowed. "My lord..."

"On your feet, Lionel."

Lionel rose slowly, his breathing harder now. This question from Henry’s mouth—frightened him. Henry stepped closer.

"Look at me, Lionel."

Lionel did.

"If I command you to," Henry asked again, "would you kill Richard?"

Lionel’s throat tightened. There was only one safe answer.

Yes, Your Majesty.

"If it is your will, my lord," Lionel said, the reluctance in his voice clear enough to be treason if Henry chose to hear it that way, "it will be done."

Henry smiled faintly. "Don’t worry...I am not down that rabbit hole... yet." He turned back toward the throne, his mood shifting again. "Get Stephen," he ordered. "Tell him to inform Lady Bella I will be spending time at hers this evening. Cancel my evening walk with the princess."

"Yes, my lord." Lionel bowed and left the throne room.

Henry remained alone, staring at the empty throne. He laughed under his breath. Good men never got what they wanted.

So perhaps he would stop being quite so good.

*****

Richard rode his horse nearly to death. At first, when the Whitehall carriage arrived at Kingsmere without Livia in it, his heart simply stopped.

There she was not. His worst fear stood fully formed before him. She had seen Henry. She had learned the truth. She had chosen him.

The maid’s voice sounded distant, muffled beneath the thunder of blood in his ears. "Miss Bellamy stopped at the Cresswells, Your Grace. She said the carriage could return with me. She expected you might send transport for her."

Richard breathed, ordered his horse saddled again, though the poor beast had already carried him through one miserable ride from London. Any other man would have waited, sent a carriage, allowed the animal rest. Richard was not any other man. He rode hard.

The road to the Cresswells blurred beneath him. Wind slapped his face, cold enough to sting the split on his lip where Lionel had punched him. Every throb of pain reminded him of the truth.

Had she seen Henry? Richard gripped the reins tighter. He needed to see her, needed to feel her real beneath his hands, hear her voice, see her eyes when she looked at him. He needed proof that her promise had not dissolved the moment Henry came near.

He needed to know that she had chosen him, that she had seen the king and still chosen to be with him. He dropped from the horse at the Cresswells’ home before the poor animal had properly stopped.

The beast tossed its head, offended by the entire day, and Richard patted its neck with distracted guilt.

"I know," he muttered. "I am a terrible man. Complain to God." He strode to the door and knocked quickly.

The door opened, and Bella’s mother stood there.

"Your Grace..."

Richard immediately became aware of himself. Dust on his boots. Hair wind-tossed. Coat not properly settled. His face a mess from Lionel’s fist. "I’m sorry. Lady Cresswell. Is Miss Bellamy finished with the children?"

To her credit, she did not ask why the Duke of Kingsmere looked as though he had fought a wall.

"Yes," she said. "I will just get her."

"Thank you." Richard stepped back from the door at once. He ran a hand through his hair. His heart was racing.

Would she know? Had Henry told her? Had she seen his face and remembered the man she called Henry? Had she learned that Richard had known before telling her? Would she look at him the way she had in his nightmare, with betrayal so clear it stripped the skin from his bones? fгeewebnovёl.com

Would she yell? Would she break the engagement?

He turned away, unable to stand still. His boots scraped against the gravel.

"Your Grace?" Livia’s voice came from behind him.

Richard turned, standing there. He did not know if he should move or remain still.

Her brows drew together slightly. "You came yourself?" She rushed down the step and straight into his arms.

Richard caught her with a sharp breath, his hands closing around her as if his body had been waiting all day to remember how to live.

Livia pressed her face into his coat. His eyes closed. Relief hit him so hard it hurt.

"Hello, Duchess," he whispered.

"I missed you, Your Grace," Livia said.

The thing he had been starving for all day, spoken so simply she likely had no idea what it did to him. He tightened his arms around her, burying his face briefly against the side of her veil.

"I missed you more," he said. "How was Whitehall?"

"It was interesting," she said. "Grand. Terrifying. And Lady Bella is a hoot but they need to put a leash on that woman. She is this close to attacking the princess. She is wonderful, though," Livia said, softening. "Still sad, but wonderful."

Then he asked the question he feared most.

"You didn’t meet the king?"

"I saw him in passing," Livia said.

Richard’s heart stopped then started again too hard.

Ah. That explained it. Henry had not revealed himself. Richard should tell her now. This moment. This exact moment. He should take her hands, look into her eyes, and say, Diana, there is something you need to know. Henry the merchant is not a merchant. He is the king but the relief he felt was obscene.

It filled him so completely that truth had no room to stand. Henry had threatened to take her back. So why did he not do it?

Why did he not show himself to her?

"Are you ready to leave?" Richard asked.

"Yes. I said my goodbyes already," Livia said, pulling away from the hug and then looking up at him.