There was still the small matter of Henry lying about being a merchant. After a few steadying breaths, he finally went to wash. Cold water did little for his mood and even less for the rest of his body. By the time he dressed and headed to dinner, Livia was already seated when he entered.

She wore a modest blue evening gown this time. Her hair had been pinned loosely, and a few shorter strands framed her face. She watched him as he took his seat.

The servants moved around them, placing food on the table.

"So," Richard said, reaching for his cup, "you have the day off tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"What would you like to do?"

Livia thought for a moment. "Maybe walk around Kingsmere, get to know the land, look for a room to rent."

Richard smiled at that. "Nice..."

Her eyes narrowed immediately. "Wow."

"What?"

"You seem quite keen about the idea of me getting my own place to stay."

"Why wouldn’t I be?" Richard cut into his food. "I remember telling you that once you have a plan, I was going to pursue you relentlessly."

"Uh... I should have known," Livia said, smiling as she rolled her eyes. "I suppose two weeks’ pay should be enough to rent a room."

"Yes, but..."

She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. "But what?"

Richard sighed. "No one will rent to you, Diana," he said sadly.

Her smile faded. "Why?"

"Well, you are unmarried, with no family and no proper history anyone can confirm." 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

Livia sat back slowly, looking at the food before her. "So because I do not have a husband or a father to stand behind me, I cannot even rent a room?"

"You can," Richard said. "In theory. In practice, a respectable household will want to know who you belong to."

Her eyes snapped up. "I belong to myself."

"Yes," he said firmly. "But the world does not yet know what to do with women who belong to themselves. It finds them suspicious."

"A lodging house might rent to you, though I would rather eat my own boot than send you into one. Some places are worse than Beaumont’s."

"You could recommend me," Livia said.

"I could."

"But?"

He grimaced. "It would only worsen your chances."

"Because you are not exactly the respectable duke around here?"

"Who told you that?"

"Lady Bella."

"Ah. Wonderful... only a day and you both already gossip about me."

"She said the things she hears about you at court would make me blush a million times over."

"Yes." His amusement faded. "She is right. My recommendation would open doors, but it would also stain you with questions. Why is the Duke of Kingsmere finding an unmarried lady a house? Why is he paying attention to her? Why is she under his protection? People would not call it kindness. They would call it exactly what their dirty minds want it to be. You being here at least raises less questions. They would believe that you are a distant relative."

Livia’s shoulders dropped. "What am I going to do?"

Richard sighed. "I could rent to you."

Livia gave him a mocking look over her cup. "I cannot afford to rent from a duke."

"I could knock the tax down."

"No..." Livia shook her head.

"Fine. No rent from the scandalous duke."

Livia looked down at her plate, pushing a piece of bread absently with her finger. "What if I rent in London?"

"And how will you get to your job?"

Richard tilted his head. "Walk three hours each way? Ride alone? Hire a carriage daily with your two weeks’ wages? You would be poor again by the middle of the week."

Livia sighed in disappointment.

"Cheer up," Richard said gently. "It is only your first day attempting to be an independent woman. Take it one step at a time."

Richard reached for his wine. "Tomorrow, we walk around Kingsmere. We will look at the village, the shops, the church, the widows. Somewhere in this place, there is bound to be a respectable woman in need of coin and company."

*****

Stephen should have known something was wrong when the queen mother’s maid served him tea.

In his defence, he had been tired. Exhausted, really. He had innocently answered Her Grace’s summons, expecting questions, instructions.

But when he arrived at her apartments, Theodora was not there. Her maid had invited him to sit and wait.

The maid smiled sweetly and offered him tea.

"Thank you," he had said.

Now, as he sat in the queen mother’s drawing room with a cup warming his hands, Stephen glanced toward the door and wondered how long he was expected to wait.

The tea tasted slightly bitter. He frowned down at it.

"Is something wrong, Master Stephen?" the maid asked.

"No," he said slowly. "Just stronger than I expected."

The maid smiled again. Stephen’s stomach sank. Oh, hell. Suddenly, he felt his will leaving him. First came the warmth in his fingers, then the strange looseness in his thoughts. The candles stretched into hazy golden streaks. The maid’s face blurred, then sharpened, then blurred again.

Stephen looked down at the tea. People always said heavy was the head that wore the crown. They never talked about the head that served the crown directly. That head was constantly at risk of being disconnected from its attachments.

The maid quickly took the cup from him and placed it on the table, her fingers trembling slightly. Good. Fear meant she understood this was not a harmless errand.

As his eyes blurred and his mind went blank around the edges, Stephen knew what the queen mother wanted.

The king’s secret. The woman. The reason Henry had drunk himself half-dead, missed council, dismissed mistresses.

Theodora wanted the girl’s name. Stephen knew that whatever had been in that tea was strong enough to pull truth from him.

No. His hand gripped the arm of the chair. No. He was not going to betray the king. He pushed himself determinedly to his feet.