Chapter 21: I Sleep Quite Lightly Nowadays
Stephen would be quite deserving of a break in the morning. Henry allowed himself a small, knowing smile. Even though Stephen would never admit he needed rest, it would have to be given as a direct order.
Turning away from the gates, Henry began to make his way inside. Henry’s mind drifted back to Livia.
He was acutely aware of the persistent discomfort in his breeches. Walking away from her had required every ounce of his discipline, and now the consequences of that restraint made themselves unmistakably known. He needed to do something about the discomfort in his breeches, the stirrings Livia had caused in his loins.
Henry made his way through the quieter corridors of Whitehall Palace toward Lady Bella’s apartments, his footsteps softened by the thick Turkish carpets that lined the passage. The palace now rested in a rare stillness.
A guard stationed outside Bella’s chambers straightened at once upon seeing him. "Your Majesty," he greeted in a hushed tone, bowing deeply as he opened the door.
Henry acknowledged him with a slight nod and stepped inside. He moved quietly into the adjoining bedchamber. Lady Bella lay asleep upon the bed. Nearby, the nurse rested on a small mat beside the cradle. Henry approached the crib and peered inside. His son lay awake, wide-eyed and silent, his tiny fists occasionally flexing. The child had not cried—otherwise, both women would surely have been awake tending to him. A quiet smile spread across Henry’s face.
"Hello there, little man," he whispered softly, careful not to disturb the stillness of the room. He gently ran a finger down the baby’s cheek, marveling at the softness of his skin. The infant responded with a faint coo, his gaze seeming to search Henry’s face with innocent curiosity.
The question of the child’s future lingered in Henry’s mind. He still had not chosen a name. The boy had been born of a mistress, and under the conventions of royal succession, he would have no legitimate claim to the throne should Henry one day marry a queen who bore him lawful heirs. Nevertheless, Henry wished to bestow upon him a name imbued with dignity and strength.
He considered names steeped in tradition and power—Edward, Alexander, or perhaps William.
After a few lingering moments, Henry allowed his hand to fall gently to his side. He cast one last affectionate glance at his son before turning toward the door. Bella needed her rest. Waking her would serve no purpose but to deprive her of the peace she so deserved.
Henry moved quietly through the chambers, the soft rustle of his coat the only sound accompanying him. He reached the threshold and was just about to exit when a voice, gentle yet unmistakable, called out from behind him.
"Your Highness,"
Henry paused and turned back. "Bella..." he replied. "Did I wake you?"
She offered a faint, knowing smile. "I sleep quite lightly nowadays. Motherhood has a way of sharpening one’s senses. Every sigh or rustle from the cradle feels like a summons."
"I merely came to check on the baby," he said. "He seemed content enough not to wake the entire palace."
"He has your temperament, then—calm and observant. Though I suspect that will change once he discovers his lungs."
A quiet chuckle escaped Henry. "Let us hope he delays that discovery until after the baptism."
"I was worried about you. The guards didn’t know where you were. Your absence did not go unnoticed."
Henry waved the concern away with a gentle motion of his hand. "Mother makes a fuss. I went on a stroll. The city is far more honest when it sleeps; one can breathe. I’ll see you in the morning."
"Did you need something, Your Highness?" she asked carefully. "If you need me, I could come to your room. I have been doing a bit of reading."
Henry’s brows lifted in pleasant surprise. "You have?" he said, a genuine smile breaking across his face. "Then I am most intrigued by these scholarly revelations."
Bella tilted her head, her smile deepening. "I thought you might be."
"Well then," he said, "I will wait for you. Maybe we can discuss this reading material."
Bella smiled warmly, her eyes bright with anticipation. "I will be right with you, Your Highness."
Henry nodded, before turning to leave her chambers. It was quite interesting that Bella had decided to take some initiative since their last discussion. She had always been gentle, accommodating, and careful not to overstep the delicate boundaries of her position as his mistress.
As he walked toward his own apartments, his thoughts drifted uneasily. A faint sense of guilt stirred within him. Bella was of noble birth—qualities that made her a suitable companion within the rigid expectations of court life. If he could have even the tiniest semblance of what he had experienced with Livia, he would take it without question.
The contrast between the two women was stark. Bella, a noble lady, her future relatively secure despite the limitations of her station. Livia, on the other hand, was an Italian slave with grim prospects, surviving within the precarious environment of a London brothel.
Henry reached his chambers. He peeled off his coat and began removing the layers of his clothing. With Stephen occupied elsewhere, the task of undressing fell to him. He unfastened the buttons of his doublet, setting each garment aside before changing into a simple linen nightshirt and breeches.
As he moved about the chamber, his gaze fell upon the crown resting on a nearby table. The golden circlet, adorned with pearls and precious stones, gleamed softly in the candlelight. He had purposely left it behind before departing the palace that night, a symbol of the identity he had temporarily shed.
Henry approached it slowly. In the past, his disguises had served a practical purpose. He would slip into the city incognito, visiting markets and taverns to observe his subjects firsthand and glean information about their welfare.
Tonight, however, the reason had been far more personal. He reached out, his fingers hovering just above the cool metal of the crown. Now, his disguise was for Livia.