Chapter 185: He Loves Another Woman
"Well," she said softly, "I shall be Queen of England in less than two weeks, Your Grace. Let us see who wins this war when the crown is placed upon my head."
"That is what you still do not understand," Theodora said. "It no longer matters who wins." She leaned forward. "The King will never be entirely yours. You may have his hand at the altar. You may have his name, his kingdom kneeling before you. You will not have his heirs because he will not get it up with you. And his heart?" She shook her head. "No."
"He loves another woman," Theodora continued. "A woman born far beneath you. A woman raised among sin. A woman who knows how to please a man in ways a royal nursery could never teach you. Let us see you defeat that."
Madeleine’s face went pale beneath her fury.
Theodora gave a dismissive glance toward the door. "Move along, Princess. I do not have all morning to exchange threats with you."
Madeleine turned away. She walked to the door holding herself together by pride alone. But when her hand reached the latch, she stopped and looked back. "I shall wait for the moment you regret this...And when it comes, I will bask in the satisfaction of it."
Theodora lifted two fingers in a careless flick of dismissal. Only after the door closed did Theodora’s smile fade. She rose from the chaise and crossed to the carved shelf near the hearth. From behind a row of prayer books, she withdrew a folded parchment sealed with the King’s own mark. She broke it open again, though she already knew its contents.
Only the King’s seal at the bottom of an otherwise blank page. Her payment for giving him Livia, for keeping Livia near him.
Madeleine believed she would win when the crown touched her head. Theodora chuckled. She could keep dreaming.
*****
Richard stood before the Lord Chancellor like a man awaiting sentence. Geoffrey had not interrupted him once while he spoke. That, more than any outburst, had warned Richard how grave the matter was. His father had listened in complete silence as Richard recounted everything he had concealed about the King’s attachment to Diana, and Richard’s own part in hiding the truth until hiding it was no longer possible.
Now the silence was over.
"You idiot!" Geoffrey thundered. "You fucking idiot!"
Richard winced. "Father," he muttered, "English has other words."
Geoffrey’s eyes flashed. "Do not even try that with me. Do not."
Richard wisely closed his mouth.
"You think this is amusing?" Geoffrey demanded, advancing on him.
"No," Richard said quietly.
"Then perhaps you can explain why you have spent months behaving like a lovesick fool with a death wish."
Richard’s jaw tightened. His love had taken root in silence. He had told himself he was protecting her. But protection and desire had tangled too tightly for him to pretend he had been innocent. "I know what I am facing...That is why I am telling you now."
Geoffrey stared at him, incredulous. "You plan to stand against the King of England."
"I am aware he is the king of England."
"Are you?" Geoffrey snapped. "Are you truly? Because I do not think you understand the enormity of what you have done."
"I understand enough."
"No. You do not." Geoffrey pointed a trembling finger at him. "Let us forget, for one merciful moment, that Henry is the King. Put aside the crown. Let us strip royalty away."
Richard said nothing.
Geoffrey’s voice lowered, but the anger did not leave it. If anything, it became more dangerous. "He is your best friend...You were raised beside him. You ate at the same tables, trained in the same yards. You are brothers in every sense except by blood. And you did not think for one second about the fact that you were betraying him."
"I did," Richard snapped.
Geoffrey’s accusation struck too deep.
"I did think of it," Richard said again, voice roughening. "Every minute of every damned day. Do you think I slept peacefully while lying to him? I battled with myself. I battled with loyalty, friendship. And still, each time I saw her, each time I remembered what he intended for her, I knew I could not hand her over like some courtly offering."
His breath shook. He had been so terrified of losing Diana. "I love her...I was already in love with her before I understood what it would cost. And what did he have to offer her? A life spent being summoned when he desired comfort and dismissed when England required a respectable queen? I cannot subject her to that. I will not."
Geoffrey stared at him for a long moment. Then he asked, quietly, "Did you let her choose?"
"She loves me," Richard said. "She already chose."
"No." Geoffrey’s voice hardened. "She chose the man who opened a door when every other door had been locked against her. She chose the hand nearest to her in a storm. That is not the same as freedom, Richard."
"All you did," Geoffrey continued, "was make her indebted to you, you stupid fool."
"That is not true."
"Is it not?" Geoffrey demanded. "You rescued her, sheltered her, loved her, and then convinced yourself that her gratitude was proof enough. Perhaps she does love you. I will not deny the possibility. But love born under siege is a fragile thing, and you are building treason upon it."
"All I know," Richard said, forcing each word through clenched teeth, "is that right now, she does not want to be where the King has placed her."
"And all I know," Geoffrey thundered, "is that you will not go against your sovereign. You will get on that ship in two days and sail for France. Perhaps distance will help you use your head. And I mean the one on top of your neck!"
"I cannot leave her," Richard argued.
To sail away while Diana remained in a place that had already swallowed too much felt like being ordered to abandon her to wolves.
(Brought to you by Mar King 1/3)
