"My lord, she has touched six already." The bookseller said.

"Then six."

"She is moving toward the poetry shelf."

"God preserve my purse," Richard muttered. "Send them to the manor with the bill."

The bookseller’s face brightened. "Of course, Your Grace."

"And do not tell her."

"Of course not."

He was about to turn back to Livia when movement outside the shop window caught his eye. One of his men from the manor rode into the marketplace, looking left and right as if searching for someone. He asked a passerby a question, then turned toward another stall. His urgency stood out immediately against the ordinary bustle of market life.

Richard stepped to the doorway and whistled sharply. The rider’s head snapped toward him. The man quickly rode over, pulled the horse to a stop, and climbed down.

"Your Grace," he said, breathless from the ride.

"Everything okay?" Richard asked.

"Your Grace... the king is at the manor to see you."

Richard went still. "What?"

"He is waiting for you."

Richard thought he had misheard. The king was in Kingsmere. Henry was in Kingsmere. Richard panicked immediately. His thoughts scattered. If Henry saw her now, everything would explode. Diana would learn the truth in the worst possible way. Henry would know Richard had lied. And Richard would have no answer that did not make him sound like the selfish bastard he was becoming.

He looked back at Diana. She was still taken with the books, turning a page carefully, her lips moving slightly as she read. She looked peaceful. Happy. Safe.

Damn it.

He turned back to the man. "Keep her company. Let her stay as long as she wants. And when she wants to leave, take her around the village to see if anyone wants to rent a place. A room, a cottage, I don’t care. Just keep her busy."

The man’s eyes widened a fraction. "For how long?"

"Until evening."

"Yes, Your Grace."

He climbed onto the horse the man had come with and galloped back to the manor. By the time the manor came into view, the king’s guards were already stationed outside, unmistakable in their royal livery, keeping watch.

Richard dismounted and handed the reins to a groom without slowing. He walked past the guards.

Inside, the manor felt different. His home, usually full of easy movement and servant noise, had gone tense under the weight of royal presence.

Richard found Lionel outside the drawing room, standing guard. Their eyes met.

Lionel bowed his head slightly. "Your Grace."

Richard looked at the closed drawing room door. Behind it sat his best friend, the king. The man Richard had betrayed. He straightened his coat, and reached for the door, entered and found the king seated near the hearth.

His crown was off, resting on the table beside him. "Richard..." He got to his feet.

Richard thinned his lips and bowed. "Your Highness."

"I hear that I have offended you," Henry said.

Richard gave a playful shrug. "A little."

"I apologise," Henry said. "I have been out of sorts lately. Forgive me."

Richard’s chest tightened. Henry had come to Kingsmere himself, not as king demanding loyalty, but as a friend asking forgiveness. Richard, lying bastard that he was, had Diana hidden in the village. "It’s already forgotten," Richard said lightly. "You didn’t have to come all this way. You could have just sent for me."

"I wanted to." Henry looked down briefly, then back at him. "I am ashamed, Richard, and I couldn’t bring myself to summon you." He drew in a breath. "You have been my friend longer than I have been king. You deserved better." He looked toward the crown on the table. "All of this has made clear what I need to do."

Richard’s pulse kicked once. "And?"

"Well, I spoke with your father this morning before leaving," Henry said. "He will be sending word to France for the marriage plans to begin."

"Why so sudden?" Richard asked.

Henry lowered himself into the chair opposite him, and Richard followed. "Because I’m not in my right mind," Henry said simply. He looked down at his hands. "Sending Lionel here woke me from my fog. You are my best friend, crown or not. To think I could make such a rash decision, to think I could doubt you like that, proves I am losing my mind."

Richard swallowed. That guilt again. Heavy, bitter, deserved.

"And they say marriage settles a man," Henry added.

"Henry..." Richard began, then stopped.

Give it more time.

That was what he wanted to say. But what would that mean? Give Richard more time to hold on to Livia? Give him more time to lie? Give him more time to enjoy the woman Henry was tearing himself apart over?

His tongue tangled around the truth. What was he supposed to say?

Hang on, when I am done obsessing over her, I will return her to you?

God, he was a bastard.

"Give it more time," Richard said at last. "You do not need to decide the rest of your life because of one awful week."

Henry smiled sadly. "It doesn’t matter either way. Sooner or later, I will still marry the princess."

"Do you wish you could marry for love?" Richard asked.

Henry’s eyes lifted to his. "I wish that more than anything, Richard," Henry answered. "Truly. But even if I do find her again, I still cannot marry her."

"Cursed men, the lot of us. ...Would you like anything to eat or drink?" Richard asked suddenly. "Forgive my manners, Your Highness."

Henry waved a hand. "Your housekeeper already asked. You should get a duchess in here, Richard."

Richard groaned. "Oh man... you sound exactly like my father."

"I’m sure I do. But he is right. Kingsmere needs more than a duke. You have done well. Better than most expected. The tenants respect you. The estate is alive again. But you cannot do the duties of a duchess while running Kingsmere. A duchess manages so much more.""