His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

Seraphina went utterly still. Richard pulled back. Her eyes were wide. The hairpin remained frozen in her hand. Her lips parted slightly in shock as she found her senses. She stood quickly, putting immediate distance between them.

Richard rose as well. Her cheeks had gone warm with colour. "What would a good man do right now?"

"A good man would apologise."

Richard nodded once, as though considering the answer seriously. "And a noble man?"

"A noble man would think he had done me a favour."

Richard smiled and stepped closer. He stopped in front of her, looking down at the colour still lingering in her cheeks. He lifted one hand and placed a finger beneath her chin. "Seeing as that was the first time you have ever been kissed, consider me both." He stepped back.

Her eyes caught fire. But she could not bring herself to say anything.

"Have a good day, Miss Morley." Richard gave her one last smug smile before turning towards the door. He could feel her eyes burning into his back as he left, and the satisfaction that came with it was entirely unreasonable.

So she could get flustered after all.

That discovery alone almost made the visit worthwhile.

Seraphina remained exactly where he had left her, too stunned to move. Several excellent insults came to mind once the door had already closed behind him, which was thoroughly irritating. She could also think of at least seven places on his body where the hairpin still clenched in her hand could be put to excellent use.

Unfortunately, all of them occurred to her several minutes too late. She touched her lips. Did the Duke of Kingsmere just steal her first kiss in the rudest manner possible?

*****

Henry received word late that night that the Italian royal party had finally arrived in London and had been settled in the lodgings prepared for foreign royal guests.

Normally, the arrival of a king on English soil would have demanded Henry’s immediate attention.

Today, the King of Italy could wait. Henry had a wedding to save. By morning, he had already heard what happened at the Abbey.

Apparently, Richard had nearly torn the place apart. Henry had been proud. Times like this reminded him why he had once adored Richard.

They were opposites in nearly every way. Henry’s anger went cold. The more furious he became, the quieter he usually grew, until the unfortunate person facing him began wishing he would simply shout and get it over with.

Richard had never possessed such restraint. His anger exploded. When Richard believed himself wronged, everyone within hearing distance became involved whether they wished to or not.

People had learned very quickly not to take his temper lightly. When he entered the council chamber, the Lord Chancellor and the Archbishop were already waiting.

Geoffrey stood beside the long table. The Archbishop looked considerably less comfortable. Both men bowed. "Your Majesty."

Henry acknowledged them with the smallest movement of his head and walked to his chair. He settled into his chair and looked directly at the Archbishop. "Archbishop... State your case."

"Your Majesty, I understand your anger. Believe me," the Archbishop began.

Henry’s gaze hardened. "Archbishop, I assure you, you do not even begin to understand my anger. Let me tell you exactly what makes me angry. I once gave the council the opportunity to choose me a wife, and you all brought me a murderer. And now that the choice is mine, suddenly there are objections. Suddenly there are questions. Suddenly rumours matter. So tell me plainly, is this truly about witchcraft and whispers, or is it because this is actually my choice?"

"Your Majesty, I assure you, this has nothing to do with questioning your judgment."

"Then it is a remarkable coincidence."

The Archbishop drew in a measured breath. "I have observed Lady Livia closely. I have spoken with her, prayed with her, and watched how she conducts herself. I can say with certainty that she is worthy of the throne. She is worthy of Your Majesty. But, if the Church blesses this union while these rumours continue to spread, then the Church places itself beneath the anger of the people."

"Then your concern is that frightened people may make the Church uncomfortable."

The Archbishop looked pained. "My concern is that public suspicion can become public unrest."

Before Henry could respond, the chamber door opened. Richard stepped inside. He bowed first to Henry, then acknowledged Geoffrey and the Archbishop.

"I apologise for my tardiness, Your Majesty. I stopped to make my petitions against the Church in the event that this meeting insults my family even further."

"Welcome," Henry said. "The Archbishop was just telling me how wonderful my intended is." He gestured lightly. "Continue."

"As I was saying," The archbishop began, slower now, "the difficulty is not Lady Livia’s character. The difficulty is what cannot be proven about her birth. A queen must enter the marriage with enough certainty around her name that the people do not believe the Crown has accepted a woman from nowhere."

"I have thought about the matter," he said. "At length." He rubbed his thumb across the ring on his finger, clearly uncomfortable with whatever came next. "If the lady’s true origins cannot be revealed..." He paused, then quickly made the sign of the cross. "Maybe one can be fabricated."

Just as Henry’s lips lifted into a smile, a chuckle escaped Richard.

"As I live and breathe," Richard said. "The Archbishop suggests lying. I did not think I would live to see the day."

The Archbishop refused to look at him. "It is precisely why I requested that this meeting remain private. Your Majesty, even you must agree that the queen’s authority will be questioned at every turn if this matter is not settled before the wedding. Especially while these rumours of witchcraft continue to spread."

England did not know her. People were often comfortable fearing what they did not understand. Henry rested one arm against the chair.

"So tell me what you suggest."