Livia nodded. Richard helped her into the carriage. The footman closed the door. The latch clicked.
A groom brought Richard's horse forward. Richard mounted, gathered the reins, and took his place behind the carriage as it rolled out of Whitehall.
Soon they were on Chancery Lane, bound for the Lord Chancellor's residence. His thoughts were caught on one thing.
Why had she not told him about Henry? She had mentioned meeting His Highness, yes, as calmly as one might mention meeting a tailor. Nothing that suggested Henry had turned the earth beneath her feet.
And yet perhaps that was worse. Was silence proof that the meeting meant nothing? Or proof that it meant too damned much?
Was she being noble? Was she sparing him? God, he would rather be shot than pitied. Was she still attracted to Henry?
The rest of the evening passed quickly. At the Lord Chancellor's house, Livia told him everything. Every detail of what she had seen.
