His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

Chapter 140: She Was Breathing Fire

Élodie’s fingers shook. There was no time left. Madeleine picked up a piece of cloth from the bed with trembling fingers. She rolled it in her hands, pressed it between her teeth, and bit down hard.

Her eyes locked on Élodie’s.

Do it.

Élodie swallowed then she raised the knife and stabbed into Madeleine’s shoulder. Pain exploded through Madeleine so suddenly the world vanished into white heat. She screamed into the cloth, the sound trapped and strangled between her teeth, her body folding beneath the shock of it. She could not think, only feel the blinding, sickening pain.

Madeleine’s knees gave way. She tore the cloth from her mouth and forced herself to speak through clenched teeth. "Go..."

Élodie stared at her, horrified. "Your Highness—"

"Go," Madeleine gritted out.

Élodie curtsied then hurried out of the room. Only then did Madeleine fall to the floor. The cold floor struck her side, and she gasped, curling inward as the room tilted around her. Her ruined dress tangled around her legs. Her breath came in shallow bursts. Tears slipped hot down her cheeks.

*****

Livia sat at the table holding her breath. The Lord Chancellor’s dining room was too quiet. She was painfully aware of every sound she made—the shift of her skirt, the small tremble in her breath, the way her fingers pressed together beneath the table so she would not wring them.

Richard sat beside her. He had done most of the speaking. He had told his father everything there was to know.

Well, almost everything.

Beaumont.

The fall.

The new identity.

The engagement.

Livia had filled in what she could, though her voice had gone small in places she hated. She had expected Lord Langford to condemn. Instead, he had listened.

Now they waited. Geoffrey Langford sat, fingers steepled before him, his eyes fixed on his son. Richard looked calm.

At last, Geoffrey leaned back.

"I should have known the king was lying to me..." he began.

Richard’s brows drew together. "How?" Richard asked.

What did the king have to do with this? The question moved through Livia’s mind.

Her gaze shifted from Geoffrey to Richard, then back again. The Lord Chancellor had spoken as if the king had been standing somewhere in the middle of her story all along.

Geoffrey leaned back in his chair, his fingers still steepled, his eyes thoughtful. "A couple of weeks ago...the Queen Mother came into the throne room while I was having a meeting with the king. She was breathing fire," Geoffrey continued. "Which, in Her Grace’s case, is not uncommon, but that day she was particularly impressive."

"She had heard the king shut down Beaumont’s brothel," he said. Geoffrey’s gaze flicked to her, not unkindly, then returned to Richard. "She was quite upset that the king had any connection to the place at all. She suspected it was for you."

Livia looked at Richard. He had the king shut down Beaumont’s. He had not told her that. Richard’s jaw tightened, he looked properly cornered.

Geoffrey continued. "I asked the king directly if Beaumont’s closure had anything to do with you. He said it did not."

Richard looked down.

Geoffrey gave a dry little smile. "And I should have known then he was lying."

Richard cleared his throat too loudly. "Well, that is it, Father. I did not want to lie to you."

Geoffrey’s eyes settled on him. "No, you did not want to lie to me because you knew I would find out anyway."

Richard’s mouth curved weakly. "True..."

Geoffrey turned his attention fully to her then. She straightened without meaning to, her spine becoming painfully aware of itself. "Anyway," he said, his voice softening, "Miss Bellamy, I do hope you are capable of handling my son. That is not a small task," Geoffrey added.

Richard sighed. "Must we discuss me like a difficult horse?"

"I also hope," Geoffrey continued, "that you are happy."

Happy?

She was. She was truly happy.

She looked at Richard. The man who had protected, desired, sheltered, teased, confused, and chosen her. "I am, my lord."

Geoffrey nodded. "The circumstances may not be ideal...But my son looks quite smitten and different."

Richard groaned. "Father."

"No, let me enjoy it. I feared you would remain useless forever."

Then Geoffrey looked back at Livia.

"I suppose I should give you my thanks."

"That’s it?" Livia couldn’t help it.

Richard turned his head slowly toward her, the corner of his mouth twitching. Geoffrey leaned back in his chair.

"That’s it. What more is there?" Geoffrey asked.

She opened her mouth, then shut it again.

A great deal, she wanted to say. There was Beaumont’s. There was the false name. There was the fact that she had no proper family standing behind her, no dowry worth speaking of, no respectable history anyone could parade before society. There was the simple, ugly truth that women who came from where she came from were never forgiven.

Geoffrey seemed to read some of that on her face. "My son says you are a respectable woman...Even while living at Beaumont’s."

Livia looked down.

"But," Geoffrey continued, "I do have a couple of questions about your family background."

Livia forced herself to look up again. "Of course, my lord."

"You seem learned," Geoffrey said. "Properly raised. You speak different languages."

"Yes."

"And you read well?"

"Yes."

Richard sighed. "Father, are you recruiting her for Parliament?"

Geoffrey’s gaze stayed on her. "In Florence, only noble ladies are often brought up that way."

Livia chuckled softly. "I am no noble lady."

"No?"

"No, my lord. My mother taught me everything I know."

"And your mother was?"

Livia hesitated. Richard’s hand moved beneath the table, covering hers. "My mother was a governess for a noble household before she had me...She believed knowledge was the one thing no man could take once it truly belonged to you."

"Hmmm..." Geoffrey murmured. "Livia Valenti, no?"

"Yes, my lord," she said carefully.

"Valenti," Geoffrey repeated, testing the name against some memory

(brought to you by Janelle Fox 1/3)