Chapter 176: You Lied To Me
"I am sorry," Livia said. "You lied to me. Everyone has lied to me."
"I know." Richard’s voice cracked. "I know."
Livia turned back to the bed, to the pathetic little pile of things that belonged to her before him. It was almost laughable. This was what her life had come down to again. A few garments, a name no one could agree on, and a heart foolish enough to keep loving men who kept secrets in the name of love.
"I wanted to tell you," Richard said. "Every single time."
"Then why did you not?"
"My fear would not let me," he said. "I wanted to be with you just a little bit longer. One more day. I kept telling myself I would tell you. And then..." He dragged a hand over his face. "And then I could not let you go."
Livia’s tears slipped free. She brushed them away angrily. "To think...that I did not tell you about him because I did not want to ruin your friendship with him. I did not want to be the one to come between two friends," she continued. "I did not want to ruin what you both had. And I did not want there to be any doubt between us."
She had tried to protect him. She had tried to protect both of them, and all the while, the truth had already been standing in the room. "But the both of you were already at each other’s throats, weren’t you? You knew exactly why he was sending you to France."
"Yes, I did," Richard answered.
There was no use lying anymore. The truth had come late, but it had come, and now it stood between them with cruelty.
Livia nodded once. "I have to go," she whispered. "I cannot stay here anymore."
"No. Diana, we are to marry. I love you. Should that not be all that matters?"
Livia looked down at the small case. The case was pitifully light. After all the gowns, slippers, gloves, books, and ribbons that had entered her life under Richard’s roof, the things that truly belonged to her could still fit into one modest case.
How humiliating.
How fitting.
"It should be," she said. "But it turns out, it is not."
Every part of him wanted to go to her, to take her hands, to beg until his pride bled out at her feet. Richard knew the one unforgivable thing he could do now was reach for her before she reached for him.
"Please," he said. "It has to be enough. Love has to be enough."
Livia’s fingers stilled on the edge of the case. Love should have been enough. Love should have been stronger than kings but love had also been the excuse.
Henry loved her and would keep her imprisoned for it. Richard loved her and had hidden the truth for it.
Everyone loved her in ways that still left her bleeding. She snapped the case shut then she looked him dead in the eye.
"It is not," she said. "But I forgive you, Richard. And if you love me, please let me go."
Richard went still. The words returned to him. What goes around truly did come around. He had said the same thing to Henry, told him that if he loved her, he would let her go. He had believed himself righteous then. Noble, even.
Now the sentence had found him. And God, it was merciless. His throat worked, but no words came. He had never meant to trap her, never meant to hurt her.
Livia lifted the case from the bed.
"I cannot stop you from doing what you want to do," he said. "I will never do that. I just need to ask you this, knowing what you know now. Do you love me?"
Livia looked at him, and the tears came without mercy. There was no stopping them now. No pride strong enough, no composure cold enough to hold back everything Whitehall had torn open. They slipped down her cheeks in steady, silent streams, and Richard looked as though each one landed somewhere inside his heart.
He had asked if she loved him.
Cruel question.
She stepped closer. Richard did not move. He seemed afraid that if he breathed too deeply, reached too quickly, hoped too loudly, she would vanish before him. So he stood still and let her come to him. She rose onto her toes and kissed him. Her lips touched his with all the grief she could not speak. To her, it was goodbye. A final softness offered before she surrendered herself to the ugliness waiting in London. A memory to keep where Theodora and Henry could not reach.
But Richard felt love in it. To him, that kiss was not an ending. It was permission not to give up. When she pulled away, his hands twitched at his sides. He let her step back because she had asked him to let her go, and God help him, he was trying.
Livia turned quickly toward the door.
"Diana," he said.
She stopped, but did not face him.
"I am not going to stop. I wore you down once. I will wear you down again."
She turned then. The look in her eyes stopped him. "If you do not stop," she said, voice trembling, "then saving me from that fall at Beaumont’s will mean nothing. Because I will find the closest roof and jump off it myself."
Richard went pale. "Diana..."
Livia wiped at her face, though fresh tears replaced the old ones at once. "I am so sorry, Richard. Truly, I am. I will always remember you," she whispered.
Richard drew in a shaking breath. "I am not giving up...I will not. I will marry you, Diana."
"You cannot," she said. Livia did not wait for his reply. She stepped out of the room.
Tabitha was waiting just beyond the door. "My lady?"
Livia looked up at her. The older woman’s face betrayed concern.
