He did not think anything untoward of her. She was a good girl who had fought her circumstances tooth and nail. Broken, yes, but still standing. Still sharp. Still somehow able to make him feel like both a duke and an idiot within the same breath.

The expected knock came at his door. Richard straightened at once.

"Enter—no, wait." He crossed the room himself, suddenly excited to see whether his plan would work. He pulled the door open.

And to say he was stunned was an understatement. Beaumont had taken a woman meant for nobility and dressed her for ruin.

That was the first thought that struck Richard. Beaumont had covered her in scandalous outfits meant to make men forget she had a soul. He had turned elegance into invitation, beauty into trade.

The woman standing in front of Richard now looked nothing like Diana from Pudding Lane. She looked elegant.

Regal, even. Not in the sweeping, overfed manner of court ladies in ballroom gowns wide enough to require their own doorway. No pearls spilling from her throat. No ridiculous sleeves pretending to be architecture. No jewels shouting on her behalf. This was simpler, and somehow far more dangerous.

Her gown was modestly cut, the square neckline softened with a fine cream chemisette that covered her properly without making her look severe. The bodice fit her neatly. The sleeves were narrow at the arms and opened slightly at the wrists, trimmed with delicate embroidery in pale gold thread. The skirt fell in clean, graceful folds, brushing the floor.

A slim girdle sat at her waist, simple and tasteful. Her gloves were cream, soft leather, fitted perfectly to her hands. The veil matched them, light and sheer, pinned over her darkened hair and falling just enough to shade her features. Against her complexion, the colours did not hide her. They refined her.

Richard forgot, briefly, how speech worked. Livia reached forward and lifted the small veil covering her face.

"My word..." Richard started. His mind decided to abandon him entirely. "You’re... Oh my God..."

Livia smiled. "So," she asked, "did it work?"

If you meant, do I currently have a problem in my breeches, then yes, he thought and swallowed.

"Uh... yes..." he said out loud. "Come on. Come in..."

Livia stepped past him into the room, and Richard shut the door behind her. He did it slowly, mostly because he needed a moment to gather himself. She had changed, and yet not changed at all. She walked toward the fire, looking down at her gown with a strange expression.

"I have never owned anything this nice and appropriate before," she said.

Richard’s chest tightened. What a simple and yet cruel thing, that such a dress could feel like a miracle.

She turned back to him, fingers brushing the gloves. "Thank you. I... I will pay you back."

"You owe me nothing," Richard said.

Livia frowned. "I don’t understand. Surely, you must have spent a fortune on all these things. You..."

"Diana?" His voice was firm. "Sit. We need to talk about next steps."

The distance in his voice stopped her. Richard had been many things since she woke in his house—irritating, shameless, inappropriate but distant? No. Never distant.

"Of course," she said quietly. "I apologise."

She turned to sit, gathering her skirts carefully beneath her. But as she lowered herself, something refused to settle. She turned back to face him. Richard had moved toward the table, his fingers resting against the back of a chair. He was not looking at her properly. "Are you mad at me?" she asked.

He turned. "What?"

"You are mad at me."

"No, I am not."

"You are being unusually cold toward me."

He sighed. "No, I am not mad at you," he said. "I am just speechless. You look beautiful."

"No," she said slowly. "No, that’s not it. You are not being your usual careless self."

His expression changed. "Wow." He straightened, a laugh touching his voice. "That’s the first time someone will use that word for me."

"Is this about the other day?" Livia asked.

Richard looked away. "I guess I should apologise for that," he said. "It wasn’t very gentlemanly of me."

She had expected a joke. But he did not offer that. He stood there, unusually serious, the apology mattered to him. Livia lowered her eyes to her gloved hands. "My life with Beaumont has been tragic," she said quietly. "I was beaten, abused, and then eventually traded. Henry was the first man in my whole life to show me just a little kindness. He was good to me. He is a good man."

Richard did not like hearing that. He liked it even less because she believed it.

"You are the second to show me kindness," she added, looking up at him. "It gives me a little faith in the world. It also puts a bit of pressure on me."

"Diana... You need to stop thinking that your body should be payment for favours."

She went still.

"That is a thought Beaumont’s girls were taught to survive. You are no longer working for Beaumont. You are in my house, under my protection, and whether you kiss me, curse me, or fuck me that does not change. I don’t want you because I bought gowns for you," he said. "I will do these things in spite of wanting you, not because of it."

Livia swallowed. Want and kindness. Help and expectation. Protection and ownership. In Beaumont’s world, they had all been tied together until a woman could not tell where gratitude ended and debt began. "I feel like I am disappointing you," she admitted.

"You have not managed to disappoint me so far....You don’t know it," Richard continued, "but you seem to be teaching me a lot. And in light of that, I have a bit of advice for you."

"Oooooh... lay it on me," she smiled.

"Okay," he said, lifting one finger. "Before the advice, I have good news."

(Brought to you by Mar King 1/3)

****Took a quick nap so i can write all night. Bring it people!