Livia swallowed. Henry had spoken of rescue, of a house, of freedom, and she had believed him because believing him had felt better than drowning slowly in Beaumont's world. But her own plan? She had none. She had only hope, and hope was not a plan.
"I don't have any," Livia said.
"I got you away from Beaumont. Isn't that enough? You still want to go looking for this man?"
Livia looked up at him. "Yes."
"Why?"
"Because he may be looking for me."
"And if he is not?"
She forced herself not to look away. "Then I will know."
"I can offer you shelter," Richard offered.
"And what would I do here? I cant live with you forever."
He sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. "What I meant was," he continued, more carefully, "you are free now, and you still want to go back to a man who knows you as a whore?"
Livia recoiled. Her shoulders pulled back. Her face closed. Whatever softness had been warming between them vanished. "I am not a whore."
