His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

"His intended helps him," Stephen gave a helpless little shake of his head. "She steadies him."

The physician considered that. "Then perhaps you should tell her. She should know. If she truly helps him, then she must be prepared. And if one day her help fails, she should know what to do."

Stephen rubbed a hand over his mouth. "Not yet."

"When, then?"

"When I decide."

"You?"

"Yes. Me."

The physician stared at him. "Master Stephen, with respect, you are the king’s valet, not his council."

"I am the one who catches him before he falls." Stephen stepped back, suddenly exhausted. "Brew his medicine. I will handle the rest."

"Stephen, do not be daft. The rumours are already in Whitehall."

"But we shall not hand them confirmation," Stephen said. "Get to work."

The physician sighed. He should never have taken work in Whitehall. It had come with status, fine coin, and the honour of attending the king. It had also come with the constant possibility that one misplaced word would place his head on the block.

Now he did not know which would send him there faster. Keeping the king’s condition from the lord chancellor or telling him.

*****

It was evening before Livia returned to Whitehall. The palace had already taken on that strange golden hush that came just before night settled properly. Torches had been lit along the outer walls, and the last of the daylight clung to the stones.

The carriage rolled into the courtyard, flanked by guards. The visit to the Tower had taken more from her than she wished to admit. By the time the carriage door opened, exhaustion had settled into her bones like damp.

Lionel stepped forward as the carriage opened. He offered his hand first to Tabitha, then to Livia. She accepted his help, descending carefully. Her feet touched the courtyard stones, and she was grateful simply to be back in Whitehall.

Livia turned to Lionel. "Thank you for coming with us."

"It was no trouble at all, my lady." He turned and dismissed the guards who had escorted them. They bowed and moved away, some towards the barracks, others to report to their posts. The careful formation around Livia dissolved. She had not yet been crowned, had not even stood before the altar, and already her movements seemed to require men.

She began walking towards her apartments with Tabitha beside her.

After a few steps, she glanced back at Lionel. "Would you please inform the king of my arrival?"

"I will do that," he said.

"Thank you."

By the time they reached her chamber doors, Lionel bowed once more.

"My lady."

"Lord Ashcroft."

Then he turned and left. Tabitha opened the door and guided Livia inside. Tabitha began helping her undress. The blue fabric slipped from her shoulders, and Livia let out a breath.

A bath was brought, warm and scented lightly with herbs. Livia sank into it with a sigh, closing her eyes as the heat wrapped around her tired limbs.

"I should like to go to Mass on Sunday, Tabitha."

Tabitha paused while folding Livia’s discarded gown. "What has brought this on?"

Livia opened her eyes. "I would like to become more involved with the Church."

Tabitha looked at her carefully. "Involved how?"

"I do not know yet. Patronage, perhaps. Charity. Women’s houses. Orphans. Hospitals. Something useful."

"That is wise," Tabitha said slowly. "But not yet."

Livia turned her head. "Why not?"

"Because you are not queen yet. And you are not yet lawfully the king’s wife. In the eyes of the Church and the court, you are still the king’s intended, and to the unkind, his mistress. Until the vows are spoken, any public religious patronage from you will be questioned, or mocked. But you may attend Mass frequently," Tabitha added. "That would be proper."

Soon, the bath was done. Tabitha helped her out, dried her hair as best she could, and dressed her in clean nightwear. The linen felt soft against her skin, and the simple relief of it almost made her close her eyes where she stood.

Livia sat on the edge of the bed while Tabitha poured her a small cup of watered wine. She accepted it, sipping slowly.

Then she looked towards the door.

"The king has not sent word?"

"No, my lady."

Livia frowned. That did not feel right. If he had been told she was back, surely he would have sent for her. She looked at Tabitha. "Do you think he is angry?"

"Even if he is," Tabitha answered, "surely not for long."

"Please inform Stephen that I shall be coming to see the king," she said.

"Very well. I will send word."

"Thank you."

Tabitha left the room. Livia, restless now, got up and sat on the cushioned settle near the hearth and waited.

He could not truly be angry, could he? The visit to the Tower had been worth it. Whatever Henry might think, it had been worth it. By the time Livia walked out of Theodora’s chamber, Her Grace’s face had been trapped in a state of pure annoyance, ready to burst like an overripe fruit left too long in the sun.

More importantly, she had learned something. Theodora had no intention of surrendering. She was not a defeated woman.

Livia rubbed her fingers together slowly. Could the tower truly hold a woman like Theodora? She had met several noblewomen while there. Livia had made sure to perform the role perfectly.

A dutiful future daughter-in-law visiting a troubled mother. She had not introduced herself. Theodora had not introduced her either, of course. That would have required acknowledging reality, and Her Grace seemed determined to choke before giving Livia even one courtesy she did not have to give.

But the women would know soon. Everyone would know soon. The mysterious young lady visiting the confined Queen Mother. The same young lady Lord Langford would soon present before society. The same young lady the king meant to marry.

The door opened again.

Livia turned at once. "Did you tell Stephen?"

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