Chapter 63: It Is A Terrible Situation
"No, it is not!" Livia cried.
He sank onto the edge of the bed as though his own amusement had defeated him. "I am sorry," he said again, though his shoulders still shook. "Truly. It is a terrible situation. Horrible. Grave, even." Pun intended.
Livia scowled at him. That nearly finished him, he doubled over once more. "Okay, now you are mocking me," Livia said, there was no real bite in her voice anymore.
"No, I swear. I swear." Richard raised both hands in surrender, still trying to compose himself. "Alright... see? I’m done. Completely serious now."
Livia gave him a long, suspicious look.
"Truly," he added, straightening slightly. "I think it might actually be a good thing. A way out, at least. Marrying someone... well... closer to the grave, as you so delicately put it. And besides, trust me, at a certain age, the cock just doesn’t rise to the occasion like it used to. You might not even have much to endure. Perhaps just... a little tickle."
Livia let out a sudden laugh. Richard watched her, and he forgot entirely where they were.
The laughter softened her. It made her look prettier, freer, the girl she might have been if life had been kinder.
Soon enough, they were both sitting on the edge of the bed, laughter fading into quiet smiles.
He couldn’t remember the last time a conversation had felt this easy. After a moment, Livia exhaled slowly.
"You are not so bad, Your Grace," she said.
"Richard," he said quietly. "Call me Richard."
"Richard."
He smiled faintly at the sound of his name on her lips, temporarily imagining how his name would sound when she was caught in the throes of passion, but he quickly looked away before it lingered too long.
"And I do hope your prince charming comes to save you, Diana," he added. "If he doesn’t... I’d probably steal you away."
Livia smiled once more. "I know he will come," she said softly. "I’m just not sure there will be anything he can change."
That stubborn belief again. It irritated him... and impressed him in equal measure.
He pushed himself up from the bed. "Well," he said, "I paid Beaumont for a whole month. I would like to say I enjoyed the first day, but... let’s call it satisfactory."
Livia huffed a small breath of amusement. "I’m sorry I caused you a great loss."
"Oh, I fully intend to recover it," Richard replied dryly. "One way or another."
She tilted her head. "How?"
He gave her a look. "Maybe someday, you will get the opportunity to pay me back."
Livia met his gaze steadily. "Someday then."
Richard shifted his weight, suddenly restless. "I think Beaumont should be able to believe you are... sufficiently and thoroughly fucked by now," he said. "I should go."
Livia stepped forward. She leaned in and pressed a quick, gentle kiss to his cheek. "Thank you."
He nodded once, stiffly, unsure what to do with that. Then he picked up his gloves, slid them on, and turned toward the door. He stepped out into the corridor, adjusted his cloak.
Downstairs, the noise of the tavern swallowed him again—laughter, music, men shouting, glasses clinking. No one paid him any real attention. Just another nobleman leaving after business.
When he stepped outside, Richard exhaled slowly and shook his head, as if he could physically throw the girl out of his thoughts.
Didn’t work. He swore under his breath.
The stable boy hurried over with his horse, eager, wide-eyed, clearly hoping for coin. Richard took the reins, but his mind was still upstairs. Maybe he should have stayed a bit longer.
"Holy Mary..."
*****
Theodora was just leaving the infirmary, where Lady Bella was still being attended to by physicians.
The girl was losing her mind.
Theodora adjusted her gloves as she stepped into the corridor, her patience thin. So what if Bella had lost a son? Women lost children all the time. She was young. There would be other children. Perhaps not by the king anymore, but still. She wasn’t the first mother in history to suffer neither would she be the last.
Theodora hissed softly and continued toward the residential wing. Behind her, her maid followed with lowered eyes and quick little steps.
As they approached the wing, Theodora slowed. Princess Madeleine was waiting ahead.
"What does she want now?" Theodora murmured to her maid, clearly not expecting an answer.
The maid wisely gave none.
Theodora’s eyes narrowed. "Darkness follows this woman."
And wasn’t that the truth? Since Madeleine arrived, the palace had become a nest of death. Perhaps France had sent a bride, or perhaps it had sent a beautiful curse.
Once Theodora drew close, Madeleine dipped into a respectable curtsy. A proper one. Theodora raised a brow.
Well. Good. The mighty princess was beginning to learn.
"Your Grace," Madeleine said.
"Is there something I can do for you, Princess?" Theodora asked.
Madeleine lifted her head. "Oh, I merely wanted to run a few things by you, if you don’t mind."
Theodora gave her an appraising look, long enough to make Madeleine feel measured from tiara to slipper.
Then she turned toward her door. The guards opened it at once, stiff-backed and silent, and both women walked in.
Once inside, Theodora turned to face her properly.
She straightened as she did, deliberately making herself taller, sharper, more impossible to ignore. The woman could turn posture into a declaration of war.
"What do you want?" Theodora asked.
Madeleine smiled faintly. "Well, Your Grace, I appreciate you replacing my maid immediately. Really, I cannot thank you enough."
Theodora’s eyes narrowed.
"But," Madeleine continued, "I would really prefer a maid assigned to me from the French palace. They know my routine, know what I need. Even I do not know."
"The maid I assigned you is more than capable of handling everything, Princess," Theodora said.
"I am sure she is."
Theodora stepped closer. "Whatever else you need, I will send word to your mother. She can give me more information, and I can have your English maid schooled."