His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

"If the Lord Chancellor were to make a public declaration that the lady is his daughter... Perhaps the result of an affair from many years ago." The Archbishop went on carefully. "Your Majesty, being called a bastard is considerably easier to survive than being called a witch. And if those spreading this rumour should somehow produce evidence or manufacture something convincing enough to appear as evidence, I fear the Church may eventually be forced to act."

The Archbishop lowered his voice. "If accusations grow, if objects are produced and sworn to have been found among her possessions, there may come a point where the Church has no choice but to recommend the gravest punishment."

"What you suggest brings the Lord Chancellor’s integrity into question."

The Archbishop spread his hands. "Noblemen take mistresses all the time."

"And Geoffrey is known throughout England for not being that sort of nobleman."

"Your Majesty, I am not asking for her entire life laid bare before the realm. I am asking for one thread that can be followed. One truth around which the rest may be built. One piece of her history. A sister, a mother, someone who was there when she was a babe."

"Richard?" Henry called.

The duke looked towards him.

"You stand on behalf of your house. Tell me what you think."

Richard folded his arms and glanced once at the closed expression on the Archbishop’s face. "I still think His Grace has insulted my family name quite deliberately. However, as he has managed, in his limited way, to provide something resembling a solution, I shall hold back the reins of my wrath and join in finding a way forward."

"Lord Chancellor?" Henry turned to Geoffrey.

Geoffrey had spent the last several minutes observing the exchange. "I shall take a back seat on this matter, Your Majesty. You and the duke may see what can be managed between you. Whatever is required of me, I shall agree to it. No matter what it is."

Richard’s brows lifted, but he said nothing. Geoffrey, for his part, was simply relieved that for the first time in what felt like an age, Henry and Richard were standing in the same chamber without considering murder.

It was progress.

Henry turned back towards the Archbishop. "Thank you for coming."

The Archbishop bowed his head.

"I will send word once a decision has been made," Henry continued. "But you may rest assured of one thing. Whatever that decision is, Livia will become queen. I do not care if the Church burns down around the matter."

The Archbishop bowed. Richard watched him go with open satisfaction. Then Henry turned towards Geoffrey.

"Do not worry. I will not ask a favour of such magnitude from you."

"I am grateful, Your Majesty."

"I shall think of another option and get back to you."

Geoffrey nodded. Henry rose from his chair and straightened his doublet.

"Would you wait for me in the passage? We are expected to receive the Italian envoy, and I would rather not keep them on English soil for too long."

Geoffrey gave a small bow. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

"Have you made a decision?" Henry asked once Geoffrey had left the room.

"I have. But it depends on your answer to one question."

Henry gestured for him to continue. "Go ahead."

"Is Your Majesty truly prepared to carry out the punishment of the person responsible?"

Henry knew exactly whom he meant. "I would run her through myself if it would not send a ripple through England."

There had been a time when Richard would not have believed Henry capable of saying such a thing about anyone. Richard had known another version of Henry. This Henry seemed sharpened by the throne.

Richard gave a slow nod. "Then I accept. I shall spread the truth in the safest way I can. Carefully enough that it cannot be dismissed as an attack against the Crown, but enough that people begin asking the right questions."

"And when the uproar is large enough?"

Richard’s face hardened. "You may call for the Queen Mother’s head."

"Can you achieve this before the wedding?"

Richard frowned. "If I have the letter to show as proof, then yes."

"You will."

"Why before the wedding, if I may ask?"

"Because my mother once said that over her dead body would I marry Livia."

"Ah." His mouth curved. "And you call me petty."

Henry looked offended. "Oh, no. I am not petty." Henry stepped towards him. "Sinister is the word."

That pulled a quiet laugh from Richard. It felt like months had fallen away.

"Things will not go back to the way they were. I know that. But it is good to have you back, old friend."

Richard gave Henry a respectful nod. Henry drew in a breath, then glanced towards the door.

"And I should never have forced a marriage on you. If you do not want to go ahead with it, that is entirely fine. I had no right to make that choice for you. Livia did give me grief about it anyway,"

"I think I will go ahead with it," Richard said. "It seems like it will be fun."

"And who is this poor woman condemned to endure you for the rest of her life?"

"Seraphina Morley."

Henry searched his memory. "Earl Morley’s daughter, no?"

"The one."

"I have not met her."

"She is... intriguing."

Henry’s smile widened, but he spared him. There were more pressing matters. "All right. Go and do what you have to do, then. Let me know when the uproar is enough."

Richard nodded. "When it finally reaches you, it is enough."

Henry understood. If whispers travelled from taverns and households to noble drawing rooms and finally reached the king’s own ears, then the truth would already have spread far enough to take on a life of its own.

"But, Your Majesty, you do realise that no matter how much the people love you, some may still blame you."

"I will consider it recompense for not speaking soon enough."