Chapter 177: I Cannot Say
Livia had no idea why that undid her. The case slipped from Livia’s hand and struck the floor with a dull sound. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Tabitha.
"My lady..."
Livia clung to her and cried then she pulled away. Her face was wet, her breath uneven. "Thank you for everything."
"My lady—"
But Livia had already picked up her case. She turned and walked away. Tabitha watched her go, confused and increasingly alarmed.
She turned back toward the chamber Livia had just left. The door stood half open. Inside, Richard sat on the edge of the bed, his head buried in his hands.
He looked hollow.
Tabitha stepped inside. "What is going on?"
His shoulders rose and fell once, sharply, breathing had become an effort. He dragged both hands down his face and looked up. "It is nothing...It is just a temporary setback."
"Your Grace," Tabitha said carefully, "what did you do?"
The room around him had blurred into shape and colour without meaning. The bed, the open wardrobe, the heap of gowns Diana had refused to take, the little spaces where her belongings had been—everything seemed to mock him with evidence of departure.
"What did you do?" Tabitha repeated.
Richard dragged a hand through his hair. "Tabitha—"
She stepped closer. "Tell me. And how is it that everything went to hell only when she returned from Whitehall?"
Tabitha’s eyes narrowed. "Is she in trouble? Is that why the king’s guard is waiting outside?"
Richard went still. "The king’s guard?" His head snapped up. "Lionel is here?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
Richard was on his feet. He crossed the room so quickly Tabitha stepped aside on instinct. He was out the door before she could demand an explanation, his boots striking the corridor floor with force.
"Your Grace?" Tabitha called after him.
Richard reached the front hall just as the doors opened onto the courtyard. Diana was climbing back into the carriage.
All Richard saw was her hand on the carriage frame. Then he saw Lionel mounted nearby.
"Lionel!" Richard barked.
Lionel closed his eyes briefly and gave a weary sigh. He had been praying to avoid exactly this.
Well, fuck.
The carriage door shut. The driver touched the reins, and the wheels began to move over the gravel.
Richard strode forward, fury held tightly in check. Lionel turned his horse slightly. He was deeply aware that no answer he gave would be enough.
The carriage rolled out of the courtyard. Richard’s eyes followed it for half a second before snapping back to Lionel.
"Where are you taking her?" Richard asked.
"I cannot say, Your Grace," Lionel answered.
Lionel tightened his grip on the reins.
"Is it the king’s order?" Richard asked.
Lionel said nothing.
Richard’s face hardened. "She is not leaving me to be with him, is she?"
Lionel wished he had been sent to war instead. This—this court-bred cruelty, this tangle of love was a different sort of battlefield and Lionel had no shield for it. "Your Grace...I swear, this time, I know nothing of what is going on."
Richard’s eyes narrowed.
"I mean it," Lionel pressed. "I was given orders to escort Lady Bellamy safely. That is all. I am merely following orders."
"Whose orders?"
Lionel looked away.
"Lionel."
Richard took another step forward, lowering his voice. "Tell me one thing. Just one. Are you following the king’s orders? Did Henry command this? Or was it a request from Diana herself?"
"The Queen Mother," Lionel answered.
Richard went still. The words did not make sense at first. The Queen Mother.
Theodora.
He knew she was dangerous, yes. Everyone with sense knew that. What business could Theodora have with Diana? Why would she involve herself? Why would Diana leave under escort because of the king’s mother?
Lionel moved his horse, preparing to follow the carriage. He bowed his head once as one man sorry to another. Then he rode after it.
Richard remained in the courtyard. The Queen Mother. Why would Theodora take Diana? Why would Henry allow it? Had Henry allowed it? Was this punishment? A trap? A way to hide her? A way to hurt him? His thoughts ran into one another, useless and frantic. Richard shouted. "My horse! Someone get me my fucking horse!"
The courtyard erupted. Servants scattered in every direction. Someone shouted toward the stables. Another ran.
Richard did not wait. He was already moving.
"Your Grace!" Tabitha called from the doorway.
The carriage had not yet gone far. He could still see it beyond the gates, rolling down the road with Lionel riding behind it.
He broke into a run. Behind him, someone shouted that his horse was being saddled. It did not matter. He could not stand still long enough to wait for a mount, not while every second carried Diana farther into whatever trap had been laid for her.
His breath burned in his chest. The road stretched ahead. He ran harder. By the time a groom came thundering after him with his horse, Richard was already beyond the outer gate. He caught the reins without stopping, swung himself into the saddle with a movement so violent the horse tossed its head, then drove his heels in.
The animal surged forward. Wind struck his face. The manor fell behind him. Lionel heard him before he saw him.
The sharp rhythm of hooves pounded closer. He turned in the saddle just as Richard came up beside him, face set, eyes blazing.
"Your Grace—"
He breezed past Lionel.
"Richard!" Lionel shouted.
The carriage driver looked back too late. Richard pulled alongside the team, seized the bridle of the lead horse, and forced the pace down with a hard, controlled tug.
"Stop!" he barked.
The driver, pale with terror and good sense, obeyed. The carriage jolted to a halt.
Lionel reined in behind them. "Your Grace, do not make this worse."
Richard shot him a look. "It is already worse." He dismounted, boots hitting the road with a heavy thud. In a few strides, he was at the carriage door. He yanked it open.
Inside, Livia gripped the edge of the seat, startled.
"Your Grace!" Livia yelped.
"I am turning the carriage around," he said.
"What?" Her eyes widened. "Richard!"
He climbed one step onto the carriage, blocking the doorway, refusing to let the road swallow her again. "You heard me."
"You cannot do this."
"I can, and I am."
"Richard, please—"
Lionel rode closer. "Your Grace, I have instructions."
Richard looked at Livia then. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. And if Theodora had ordered this, then Diana was not merely leaving him.
She was in danger.
Livia shuffled out of the carriage.
"I am not letting you leave."
"It is not up to you!" she cried.
"Unless this is your choice, Diana," he said, voice tight, "I am not letting you leave. Do you understand me?"
"You think this is helping?"
"I think something happened in Whitehall." His jaw clenched.
"Your Grace," Lionel said from behind them, "do not make this even more difficult than it is."
Richard turned his head just enough to answer. "Then tell me where you are taking her."
Lionel’s mouth closed.
Richard looked back at Livia. "What happened in Whitehall?"
"What happened?" She laughed once, bitterly. "What happened is that I found out you had been lying to me. Do you know what that feels like? To stand there while someone else tells me what you should have told me yourself?"
Richard’s chest tightened. "Who?"
Livia stared at him. "What?"
"Who told you?"
Her brows drew together.
"Diana," he said, forcing himself to remain calm, though panic was rising fast now. "Who told you I lied to you?"
"What does that matter?"
The road seemed too quiet around them. The horses stamped restlessly.
"Diana damnit," he said, "who told you I lied to you? Who did you talk to in Whitehall?"
"Richard..." Livia sighed.
It was only his name, only that. Yet he heard the defeat inside it
"Please, Richard." Her voice broke around the plea. "Do not put me in this position."
Richard stared at Livia then the answer struck him. "You did not choose the king...You did not choose him."
She shook her head, tears flying. Slowly, carefully, he lifted both hands to her face. His thumbs rested lightly beneath her tears.
"Diana..." His breath hitched. "Did they threaten you?" He finally understood there had been no choice at all. Livia let out a sob that seemed torn from somewhere too deep to heal quickly. She fell forward into him.
Richard caught her at once. Livia shook against him and Richard held her while fury rose inside him so violently it almost blinded him.
Theodora.
Henry.
He would burn every elegant lie in that palace to ash if he had to.
"Do not go," he whispered against her hair. "Let me fix this."
She shook her head.
"Diana—"
She pulled back. Her face was wet, her eyes red, her breath uneven.
