The baroness brightened. "Miss Bellamy is very good. The girls have taken to her quickly."

Bella nodded. "She is clever. Honest too. She is... refreshing. I think she would suit me."

"When would you like to return?" Henry asked.

"Next week."

"Fine," he said. "Give Lionel her name and he will inform the guards at Whitehall."

The baroness gathered the girls then. "Come along," she said, clapping her hands softly. "His Highness did not come here to listen to you all breathe at him."

Anne lingered near the tea tray, eyes shining. Henry smiled at her once more, and the poor girl looked ready to ascend straight into heaven.

"Go," Bella told them, amused.

One by one, they filed out, curtsying again before leaving. Henry gestured for Bella to take a seat.

She did, smoothing her skirts carefully.

"How are you doing, really?" Henry asked.

Bella looked down at her hands. "I am healing, my lord. I took someone’s advice and decided to embrace my grief as mine."

"Sounds like wise advice." Henry looked down into his tea, then back at her. "Is there anything you would like me to do to make your life more comfortable? Easier?"

There had been a time when such an offer from him would have filled her with triumph. Proof that she was special, chosen, above the other women who waited for his attention at court.

Now, she only felt tired.

"I don’t know yet," she said honestly. "But I appreciate your concern, Your Highness."

"Whatever you need, Bella. Just say the word."

She nodded. "Yes, Your Highness. I will send word when I wish to return."

Henry sipped his tea at once, then got to his feet. Bella rose too. "I should leave you to your family."

"They will be disappointed you are going so soon. Anne will be insufferable after your compliment."

Henry moved toward the door, then paused. "Inform the baroness I hope to see her sometime soon and tell Lady Anne, the tea was exquisite."

Bella smiled and nodded as the king walked out. Lionel was waiting at the door, as usual.

"Your Highness..."

"Lionel," Henry said. "Whitehall it is."

Lionel bowed and moved ahead to signal the guards. The carriage was waiting in the drive, the royal crest catching the last soft light of the day. Henry climbed in and sat back.

The carriage rolled away, heading home.

*****

Livia returned to Kingsmere Manor late at night. Richard had nothing to worry about. The moment she held a book in her hand, it owned her completely. Hours had vanished without her permission. She had moved from poetry to history, from romances to translations, from one shelf to another.

The bookseller had to clear his throat three times before she heard him. "My lady," he said gently, "I am about to close."

Only then did she look toward the window and realise the day had gone dark. Only then did she realise Richard was gone.

The man Richard had left with her had been patient. By the time she returned to the manor, she was tired, hungry, and still glowing from the books.

Richard was in the drawing room, waiting with a cup of wine in his hand. He looked up the moment she entered. "Did you forget you have work tomorrow and have to leave early?"

Livia removed her gloves, smiling too widely. "Oh, I had the best day." She stepped further into the room, eyes bright. "Thank you so much, Your Grace."

The happiness on her face was dangerous. It made him want to help her explore more things. Books, himself, if she ever asked.

"When did you realise I had left?"

"I..." Livia stuttered.

Richard leaned back in his chair, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You didn’t, did you?"

She opened her mouth, shut it, then gave up with a dramatic sigh. "Oh, what the hell. Yes. I forgot about you."

Richard pressed a hand to his chest. "Miss Bellamy. My goodness. Such language. Do you plan on kissing me with that mouth?"

Livia raised a brow. "No."

"A pity. I wouldn’t mind," he continued, completely unashamed. "I like my women a little naughty."

She should have rolled her eyes. She nearly did. But something in her changed instead. Perhaps it was the wonderful day she had had. Perhaps it was the freedom of walking through a village without fear, touching books, being treated like a lady.

Or perhaps she was simply tired of Richard always being the one to unsettle her. So she smiled. Livia walked up to him slowly, pulling the veil from her hair. The pins loosened slightly, letting a few strands fall around her face. Richard watched her approach with growing interest, but also with caution.

"Can you really take what you give, Your Grace?" she asked.

Richard’s smirk returned. "I’m sure."

She leaned down, placing one hand on the arm of the chair beside his head. The position brought her close enough for him to catch the faint scent of floral oil used in her hair.

Richard’s eyes dropped to her cleavage.

Livia clicked her tongue. "Eyes, Your Grace."

His gaze snapped back to hers. Livia leaned closer, her face only inches from his now. She lowered her gaze to his mouth, then lifted it again.

Richard’s voice came out as a groan. "Diana..."

"You keep trying to embarrass me," she said. "But you seem to forget something, your grace."

Richard tilted his head. Waiting.

"I spent four years watching women who seduce men for a living." She let that sit for precisely the right amount of time. "The very best ones. Up close. Every technique, every word." Her chin lifted slightly. "Do you genuinely think I walked away from that without picking up a single thing?"

"Regale me, Miss Bellamy." He gestured magnanimously, the picture of a man entirely unbothered. He was, he privately acknowledged, slightly bothered.

"I’m very sure I can do considerably more than that." Her voice had dropped. "I can make you moan, your grace."

(Okay Kingsmere fans! Are we ready?!)