His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

Chapter 145: That Is Not Fair

Her face twisted. "That is not fair."

"Then tell me is it fair that Richard gets to call you his intended while I stand here pretending I do not know the sound of your moan? Is it fair that he holds your hand while I cannot even say your name without ruining you?"

"Please stop."

"Did you tell him," Henry pressed, unable to stop himself now, "that you were mine before you were ever his?"

Livia’s eyes filled. "How could I?" she asked, the words breaking. "I did not even know who you were."

Jealousy was an ugly animal, and it had already torn the king loose.

"Then let me ask you this," he said, leaning down just a little, his lips a hair’s breath from hers. "Has he fucked you? Has he touched what is mine?"

"Yours?" she whispered. "Yours?" she repeated, louder now, tears slipping down her face. "You promised to come get me. You promised," she said, the words shaking out of her. "I waited. I searched. I do not belong to you!"

Henry’s face paled. Behind them, Bella’s fingers twitched faintly against the sheets.

"You ask if he touched what was yours?" she said, staring at him through tears. "You abandoned what was yours."

"I didn’t abandon you," Henry said, the words coming out sharp because God, how could she think that? How could she stand there with those wounded eyes and believe he had simply walked away?

Livia’s face twisted. "Then what do you call it?"

"I made plans to get you out."

"How comforting. I was trapped in Beaumont’s, and somewhere in this palace, the King of England was making plans."

Henry stepped closer, then stopped himself. "I wasn’t here. I had just lost my son. But Lionel sent someone to ask for your hand."

The light drained out of Livia’s eyes. The memory came back—the old man who had come asking, the offer that caused the confusion that had led to her almost dying.

"That was you?"

Henry’s throat tightened. "Yes."

"I did not know. I did not know it was you. I did not know anything because you decided I did not need the truth."

Henry opened his mouth, but before he could speak, a small sound came from the bed. A faint grunt.

Both of them spun around instantly, eyes wide. Bella’s fingers moved against the sheet. Her lashes fluttered.

"Bella..." Livia gasped. She hurried to her side first, all anger forgotten in the terror of hope. She leaned over the bed, taking Bella’s hand carefully between both of hers.

"You’re awake!"

Bella’s eyes opened only a fraction. Her face was still pale, her lips dry, her breath shallow. But she was there. Somewhere behind the pain and weakness, she was there. She gave the smallest shrug.

"I’ll go get someone!" Livia said. She squeezed Bella’s fingers once, then hurried out of the room, skirts rushing behind her as she ran toward the door.

Bella made another faint sound. "Your..." Her voice was dry and thin, barely more than breath. "Your Highness..."

Henry sat at the side of her bed. "Ssshhh..." he whispered, taking her hand. "Don’t speak. Don’t." He bent closer, his voice lowering, gentling. "The physician is going to be here soon. Hang on."

"It was a woman," Bella managed to say.

"A woman?" he asked.

Bella’s lashes fluttered. For a moment, he thought she would slip away again. Then her fingers tightened weakly around his.

"Yes..." she breathed. "I saw her shoes running away."

Henry’s eyes narrowed.

A woman.

Madeleine had claimed it was a man. Were there two people? Henry looked toward the door, jaw tightening. Lionel would need to hear this. Quietly. Before half the court turned the story into a ballad and sold it outside St Paul’s by noon.

"Feel better, dear," Henry said, forcing his voice gentle, "and you can tell me all about it."

Bella’s mouth curved faintly. "I knew..." she whispered.

Henry leaned closer. "Knew what?"

"I knew you didn’t come merely for the French lessons."

He wondered, quite seriously, whether loss of blood had starved her brain of all good sense. "What?"

Bella opened her eyes a little more. It cost her effort; he saw it in the pinch at the corners of her mouth. Still, she fixed her gaze on him. "You love my French tutor."

A low chuckle escaped him.

"Oh, Bella..." He shook his head, but he did not let go of her hand. "Don’t worry yourself," Henry said, smoothing his thumb lightly over her knuckles. "I promise, I will be nothing but respectable to your tutor."

"Fuck respectable." Bella coughed immediately after saying it.

Henry stared at her. He simply could not reconcile Bella with the profanity that had just crawled out of her mouth. His brows shot up. "Lady Bella Cresswell!"

Bella gave him a sheepish little smile. The doors burst open before he could say anything else. Livia rushed in first, skirts gathered in one hand, breath uneven from the speed of her return. Two maids followed close behind, and behind them came the physician, carrying his leather case.

Livia stopped just inside the chamber. Her eyes went at once to Bella then to Henry’s hand still wrapped around Bella’s fingers.

God, this was a mess. What kind of square had she found herself in? Bella loved the king. Richard loved her.

The king had wanted her as Henry the merchant. She was to marry Richard.

Bella turned her head slightly toward her. "You came..." Bella whispered.

"Always," Livia said, smiling through the tightness in her throat.

The physician stepped forward then, clearing his throat. "If you would excuse me, Your Highness..."

Henry blinked, remembering there were other people in the room. "Yes, of course. My apologies." He quickly stood and released Bella’s hand with visible reluctance, giving the physician space to work. He moved back and came to stand right beside Livia.

They stood side by side while the physician worked, close enough that silence became its own kind of danger.

The maids moved with urgency, passing linen, water. The physician bent over Bella. And yet, despite all the people in the room, Livia was aware only of the man beside her.

The man she had once touched without fear.

There was still a careful sliver of space between them. But some unseen force seemed determined to close it. Memory pulled them together.

Livia kept her hands clasped before her skirts. Henry kept his at his sides. Still, his fingers twitched.

He wanted to touch her. Just touch her. Just a brush of fingers. His little finger moved first. Inch by inch, it drifted closer to hers. His finger was nearly touching hers when the door opened.

A maid stepped inside and dipped into a curtsy. "Your Highness," she said, "Lord Lionel asked me to inform you that the Duke of Kingsmere is waiting in the presence chamber."

"I will be right there," he said.

The maid curtsied again and withdrew. Henry stepped forward to look down at Bella.

"I will be back."

Bella’s lashes fluttered. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Henry nodded and turned to Livia. "Would you like to go see your intended?" he asked, the sarcasm low enough to pass for courtesy.

Livia heard the tone. Oh, she heard it well. The retort rose immediately. Something about how he had no right to sound so demeaning but she held her tongue.

For one, he was King of England. Second, there were people in the room.

"Don’t go, Diana."

Livia turned.

"Please," Bella whispered. "Stay with me."

Livia felt Henry’s gaze before she looked at him. She drew a careful breath. "I would like to stay with Lady Bella."

Henry’s mouth curved. "Sure."

The word was smooth, gracious. The smile beneath it was not.

Smug bastard.

Livia saw the satisfaction flickering in his eyes. A little more time in his palace, then. A little more time with her beneath his roof, inside his walls, breathing his air, delayed from the man waiting for her elsewhere.

He strolled out of the chamber but his smile did not last long. By the time he reached the presence chamber, his face had hardened.

Richard was already waiting. He stood in the chamber with his jaw set, his hair wind-tossed from riding hard, his coat thrown on in haste.

As soon as Henry entered, Richard bowed.

Henry looked past him to the sentries stationed near the walls. "Leave us."

They bowed and withdrew. Silence settled. Henry walked past Richard.

"I told you," Henry said softly, "the next time I saw you here, I would run you through."

"Then do it, Your Highness." Richard turned to face him fully. "Do it. It would be better than this punishment you have given me."

Henry’s brows lifted. "Punishment? I gave you an honour."

Richard held his ground. "Say it plainly that you are sending me away because of Diana."

Henry’s eyes darkened, but his voice remained calm. "I am sending you to France because England requires a man with charm, youth, intelligence."