"I don't understand," Livia said.
"We cannot let anyone from Beaumont's recognise you," he explained. "If the wrong person sees you walking through London, word spreads. Then Beaumont hears." He shook his head. "You have to change your look, your name. You have to become employable by respectable nobles."
Livia looked down at herself. The gown she wore belonged to one of the household servants, borrowed until proper clothing could be arranged. It fit poorly around the shoulders and slightly too tightly around the chest, a problem Richard found he wasn't particularly bothered by.
"Oooooh…" she sighed. "I don't think there is much that can be changed about me."
Richard's eyes swept over her. "Why don't you leave it to me?" he asked.
That should have frightened her. Leave it to me. Men had said similar things before. Beaumont had said them. Her father had said them. Even Henry had said them. Men always wanted women to surrender decisions neatly into their hands.
