Her face brightened, cautious but hopeful. "What?"

"I managed to snag you a job as a governess with the Cresswells."

"The who?"

"The Cresswells."

She continued staring.

"Right." Richard sighed. "I forgot you are not originally from England."

"I know noble families exist, Richard. I simply do not carry their names around in my head."

"The Cresswells are a noble family," he explained. "They live close to Kingsmere, but not inside Kingsmere itself," Richard continued. "You will be able to go back and forth daily."

"Thank you so much," she said quietly.

"I think it’s a good opportunity for you," Richard said. "His sister, Lady Bella, is the king’s favourite mistress. She just lost her son recently, so she came by to spend time with her mother, who is helping the family with their new baby."

"Wait, wait, wait. Too much information. Who and what am I teaching?"

Richard gave a wide smile. This was the grin of someone who had done something clever and was already waiting to be worshipped for it. "I think I hit the jackpot with this one."

Livia narrowed her eyes. "You look too proud."

"You are going to love me."

"That good, uhn?" she asked, raising a brow.

"Oh, better. They have six girls."

"Good God."

He lifted a finger. "Four of the girls are of age to begin proper French lessons. The eldest already has some understanding of the language."

"And I would be teaching all four?"

"Yes. Reading, conversation, pronunciation, basic correspondence. Enough French to make them marriageable. Because of the French England treaty, everyone needs to be able to communicate properly with the French. We will be having a lot of them in England."

Richard’s smile deepened. "I digress. You get paid for each one of them."

"I’m going to be rich?"

Richard opened his mouth, then paused. "Uh... I wouldn’t say rich..."

"Please say rich. It doesn’t matter if it is a farthing. As long as it is mine, I am going to be rich."

There was such simple wonder in her voice that his amusement softened. For him, money had always existed. But for Livia, a coin earned honestly and kept in her own hand was not a small thing.

It was freedom.

Richard smiled gently. "Alright. You are going to be rich."

Livia’s face lit up. "I am going to be rich," she yelped.

"Try not to buy England all at once." He teased.

Livia laughed, and the sound was worth every coin he had spent. Then he remembered himself.

"But I wanted to talk to you also, remember?"

She nodded quickly, still smiling. "Yeah, advice. Money spending advice."

Richard’s smile faded slightly. "When you go to the Cresswells, you are Miss Diana Bellamy, a young woman educated abroad, recently taken under my protection after family misfortune and also... You have a room here for as long as you need," Richard said. "You have food. You have freedom."

Livia’s smile faded in shock.

"So... maybe, just maybe, you shouldn’t wait to be saved by some mysterious merchant....Maybe," he continued, "you should save yourself."

Livia said nothing. The new gown around her body was proof that another life was possible. Her mother had taught her to survive. Beaumont had taught her to endure. Henry had made her believe escape might come through him. But Richard—arrogant, shameless Richard—was telling her to become her own rescue.

She smiled and looked up at him. Then she stepped forward and reached for his cheek. "You are an angel," she said quietly. "You were placed here on earth by God for me."

His eyes widened in horror. "Oh no. No, no, no, no." He stepped back as if burned, lifting both hands. "Absolutely not."

"What?"

"You are not going to saint me into not thinking dirty thoughts about you." He pointed at her with deep seriousness. "I refuse. I want to remain a selfish, sinful, extremely desirable man, and you will not undo it by calling me an angel just so I will feel guilty imagining you with nothing on."

Livia closed her eyes. "Would you not be a child for once and ruin the moment?"

"Fine!" he sighed, wearing the childish, resigned look of a boy.

She reached for his cheek again, and this time he allowed it. Her gloved fingers rested lightly against his skin. "If you could let the world see this side of you, Your Grace, you’d be magnificent."

His mouth curved. "I am already magnificent."

Livia did not know what to do with him other than smack him playfully on the arm.

"Ow!" Richard yelped, rubbing the spot as though she had run him through with a sword. "Violence!"

"Would you take me seriously for once?"

"I do take you seriously." Richard’s smile softened. "I hear you, Diana. Truly. But the side of me you speak about is only for those deserving of it."

"Anyways," she said, looking away before the moment grew too heavy, "you are right about me saving myself."

"Try not to sound so surprised."

"I am surprised. Wisdom from you is like finding a diamond in a pigsty...I thank you, Your Grace."

Because the gown demanded it and because he had given her more than she knew how to hold, Livia curtsied.

"You do that very well."

"My mother taught me." Livia turned to leave but when she reached the door, she hesitated. Her hand rested on the handle, but she did not turn it. Her heart began to beat strangely, it had already decided something her mind was still trying to argue against.

"Diana?" he asked softly.

She closed her eyes and turned. Before guilt could build a wall, she walked back to him. Livia stood on her tiptoes, pulled him down by the front of his coat, and locked her lips with his.

For a fraction of a second, Richard simply didn’t move. His brain, usually so reliable, had apparently decided this was a good moment to take its leave. He stood there with Livia’s lips pressed against his and his hands hanging uselessly at his sides like a man who had forgotten what hands were for.

(Brought to you by Mar King 2/3)