"She asked you to. For once," Geoffrey said, "let her do her own will."
Richard looked away, jaw clenched. Livia had asked him to stay away. Not because she wished him gone, not because she did not love him, but because she thought distance might save him from the consequences of loving her. "It is dangerous."
Geoffrey exhaled sharply. "And how would you know that?"
"Because I know them."
"You know the King," Geoffrey snapped. "You know Henry better than most men alive. Is he going to murder her? Trust me, there are worse things in this life than being the King's mistress, and from what you have told me, Livia Valenti knows that better than either of us."
Richard's hands curled into fists at his sides. The word mistress landed like filth. It reduced her to a function. It made her sound like something chosen for pleasure. Diana was laughter in a room that had forgotten warmth. She was stubbornness, courage. "Father...the Queen mother knows about her."
