Chapter 186: She Asked You To
"She asked you to. For once," Geoffrey said, "let her do her own will."
Richard looked away, jaw clenched. Livia had asked him to stay away. Not because she wished him gone, not because she did not love him, but because she thought distance might save him from the consequences of loving her. "It is dangerous."
Geoffrey exhaled sharply. "And how would you know that?"
"Because I know them."
"You know the King," Geoffrey snapped. "You know Henry better than most men alive. Is he going to murder her? Trust me, there are worse things in this life than being the King’s mistress, and from what you have told me, Livia Valenti knows that better than either of us."
Richard’s hands curled into fists at his sides. The word mistress landed like filth. It reduced her to a function. It made her sound like something chosen for pleasure. Diana was laughter in a room that had forgotten warmth. She was stubbornness, courage. "Father...the Queen mother knows about her."
"She arranged for Diana to be taken away. I always knew she was dangerous, but I did not know just how much until recently."
Geoffrey’s eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"
Richard swallowed. "I..." he looked down. "I cannot say."
Geoffrey breathed out. "You’re a fucking idiot."
"You said that already," Richard muttered.
Geoffrey drew in a slow breath. His face was still flushed with anger, his hands restless at his sides, his patience hanging by a thread. But then he turned away, walked to the window, and forced himself to master his temper.
As much as Richard deserved every curse he had thrown at him, Geoffrey knew rage alone would not save him nor would it save Diana.
"What do you think is best for her right now, Richard? Sit down, stop, and think. What is best for Diana? Not for you. Not for the two of you. Just her."
"All she wants," Richard said at last, his voice rough, "all she has ever wanted is to be free."
Whatever else Richard had done wrong, he knew that much about her. She wanted ownership of her own life.
"Then let her find that freedom on her own," Geoffrey said. "If you truly love her, stop making yourself the centre of her rescue. I cannot believe I am saying this," Geoffrey continued, rubbing a hand over his face, "but find your usual distractions. Chase women. Do whatever ridiculous thing kept you from ruining the realm before this madness began."
Richard’s mouth twisted. "I wish I could."
"Try." Geoffrey studied him, and despite everything, pity moved through his anger. His son had finally fallen in love, and of course he had done it in the most catastrophic manner possible. "I knew it was too good to be true," Geoffrey said bitterly, "that my son would go this long without some scandal sniffing at his heels. But this? The King’s woman? Your best friend’s woman?"
He shook his head in disbelief. "You have got some guts."
"I need to keep her safe," Richard said.
The fight seemed to leave him all at once. His shoulders lowered, his voice rough with exhaustion.
Some of Geoffrey’s fury dimmed. Richard had been reckless beyond measure, and no fatherly tenderness could erase the danger of what he had done. But beneath the stupidity and scandal threatening to split open at their feet, Geoffrey could see the truth plainly enough.
His son loved her. This was no passing fever. Richard looked ruined by it and that frightened Geoffrey. "I will see what can be done to keep her safe," Geoffrey said at last. "Is Tabitha with her?"
"Yes."
Geoffrey nodded once. That, at least, was something. Tabitha was no fool. If she had placed herself beside Diana, then the girl was not entirely undefended. "I will find Tabitha...I will speak with her. Leave the matter of Diana’s immediate safety to me. And you," Geoffrey continued, pointing at him, "will get yourself to France."
"Father—"
"No. No argument. You will board that ship in two days, Richard, or so help me God, I will have you tied, carried to the docks, and thrown aboard like smuggled cargo." Geoffrey turned away with a sharp exhale. "Now I must go to His Majesty and find some way to explain that my son has been a complete idiot without giving him cause to have your head."
Richard said nothing. There was no reaching him now. Geoffrey had made up his mind. He understood how his father saw it. What he had done was dangerous enough already. Had Diana been any other woman—respectable, titled, untouched by scandal—it would already have been considered treason.
*****
Livia sat in the King’s bedchamber, waiting. Stephen had left her there only after ensuring she had everything she might need: wine she had no intention of drinking and a chair near the hearth in case the bed made her uncomfortable. It had been a kindness, but she had recognised it for what it was. Stephen could not save her from what had been arranged, but he could at least make certain she did not feel even worse than she felt already.
Now she was alone. The chamber was quiet, lit by candles and the low glow of the fire. Heavy drapes softened the walls, and the great bed behind her seemed too large. On a carved stool nearby, the King’s crown rested upon a velvet cushion, its gold catching the light in cold flashes.
Livia stared at it. Wherever His Majesty had gone, he had not gone in state. She folded her arms over herself and looked down at the gown they had put her in.
It was beautiful. The fabric was soft, the cut scandalous, the colour chosen to flatter her skin. But the bodice sat too low, exposing more of her than comfort allowed. One careless movement and her breasts would spill free of it.
Against all reason, she thought of Richard. He would have loved the gown.
(Brought to you by Mar King 2/3)
