His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

Chapter 233: There Is More

She was not going to do or say anything that would embarrass the king.

"Is there more?" Henry asked.

Bella’s answer came too quickly. "No, Your Majesty."

Livia stared at her. Bella looked prepared to walk out of the chamber and carry the suspicion back into silence, where it would rot beside every other truth.

"What the..." Livia caught herself. "Yes. There is more."

Bella turned sharply. "Livia."

"No." Livia faced the king. "This is not my business, and perhaps I have no right to speak. But Lady Bella will never forgive herself if she leaves this room and says nothing."

"Tell me," he said with his gaze holding hers.

Livia drew a breath. "It concerns Thomas Fitzroy."

Geoffrey’s face lost what remained of its colour. Bella seemed to shrink into herself, merely hearing her son named aloud had reopened the grave beneath her feet.

Henry’s brows lifted in shock. "What about him?"

Livia glanced at Bella, silently asking forgiveness. "Lady Bella has always believed His Grace’s death was not natural."

Henry looked to Bella.

"Does no one find the timing strange?" she asked. "Princess Madeleine’s former maid hanged herself a day after His Grace died. If the princess asked her current maid to kill Lady Bella, I believe she asked her previous maid to kill your son."

"You believe the maid hanged herself out of guilt?" Henry asked.

Livia swallowed. "Yes, Sire."

Henry turned back toward the great chair at the head of the chamber. "Geoffrey."

The Lord Chancellor straightened as though pulled by a string. "Your Majesty."

"Send word that the princess is to remain in Whitehall but the French envoy are to leave our lands by morning. You will speak to the French king. Tell him I regret the offence given at the Abbey and that I am willing to reopen discussions concerning the marriage."

Bella’s head snapped up. Shock widened her eyes. He was still considering the marriage? After what he had heard, he was still speaking of marrying Madeleine?

Livia felt Bella’s hand go cold in hers. Henry’s attention remained on Geoffrey.

"I require more time," Henry said. "Tell them I wish to know the princess better before any final decision is made."

Geoffrey’s eyes sharpened with understanding. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Find Lionel," Henry added. "Tell him his rest is over."

Geoffrey bowed. "At once, Sire."

Henry finally turned back to Bella and Livia. Bella looked pale. Livia stood beside her. "Not one word of this is to be repeated."

Bella’s eyes filled, but she held herself upright. Livia nodded.

"Of course, Your Majesty," they said together.

Both women curtsied.

"You may go," Henry said. His face had closed again, but Livia had seen what lay beneath it. Cold fury.

The moment she and Bella stepped beyond the doors of the chamber, Bella stopped walking.

"He is still going to marry her?" she whispered. Her voice trembled so badly that Livia’s heart ached.

"I do not think so," Livia said.

Bella looked at her. "You do not?"

"No. I think the king is up to something."

Bella’s hands shook against her skirts. "You think so?"

Livia glanced back at the closed doors. "I know so." She did not know why the certainty settled in her. Perhaps it was the stillness in Henry’s face when she had spoken Thomas’s name. Livia turned back to Bella.

Had Henry once loved this woman? And if he had, when had that affection burned low? More painful still, how did Bella bear it with such grace?

Livia slipped an arm around her. She held Bella to herself and walked away back to Bella’s chambers.

*****

Stephen received Livia at the entrance to the king’s privy chamber later that night. Henry had not returned as he had promised.

She sent Tabitha to ask whether His Majesty would receive her. When permission returned, Livia rose at once. She told herself she was going because of Bella. Bella deserved answers about Thomas, and Henry owed them both some explanation of what he intended to do with Madeleine and her maid.

Tabitha walked with her as far as the outer chamber, then waited behind while Stephen came forward.

He seemed drawn, his mouth set in a careful line, his eyes shadowed with concern. "His Majesty will see you."

Livia’s worry sharpened. "Is something wrong?"

When they reached the king’s door, he stopped her with a light hand raised between them. "Be gentle, my lady," he said quietly. "It is a bad night."

Livia frowned. "What do you mean?"

Stephen did not explain. He could not. Whatever waited beyond the door belonged to Henry alone to reveal.

Before she could ask again, Stephen opened the door. Livia stepped inside. The chamber was dim, lit by candles burning low in silver holders. Papers lay scattered across the table. A slate rested near the edge, covered in rough marks and half-erased figures.

Henry sat at his desk, a piece of chalk in one hand. His eyes were red-rimmed.

"Your Majesty?" Livia called tentatively.

Henry looked up at her with a small smile.

"Are you alright?" Livia asked.

"I cannot remember what he looked like," Henry confessed.

"Who?" she asked.

Henry stared at the slate before him, the piece of chalk caught loosely between his fingers. "My son."

A sad chuckle escaped him, brittle enough to break if touched. "I cannot remember. He was small. Round-cheeked. Beautiful, I suppose. But so are all infants. He looked like every other sweet baby."

Livia stepped closer. On the desk lay a half-finished sketch of a child. Beside it rested abandoned attempts on loose parchment, each one more desperate than the last.

Henry had tried to summon his son’s face from grief and failed. "How can I not remember my own child?" he asked.

"Perhaps because you have not allowed yourself to think of him in so long. Or perhaps because remembering hurts too much," she added gently.

Henry lowered the chalk. "I blamed myself for his death."

Livia looked at him. "Why would you do that?"

(Powered by 200 power stones)