Chapter 319: The Earl Of Morley

Master Hartwell had been an excellent idea. Livia would have to thank Henry for it later. After nearly an hour of political smiles, Livia felt she could finally breathe. With Master Hartwell, there were no sharp inquiries about her family, no polite attempts to place her accent, no women asking where exactly in Florence she had been raised while clearly hoping she would misstep and reveal something scandalous.

Livia enjoyed him. Truly enjoyed him. She spoke animatedly, forgetting for several blessed minutes that she was being inspected by half the nobility in England. Hartwell listened as if her thoughts mattered. She could feel Richard’s eyes on her.

Constantly.

A fixed awareness from across the ballroom that followed her even when she turned her back. Livia tried not to look. Looking would encourage something she did not know how to manage.

Then a young woman stepped towards her and stood at her side.

"Lady Livia."

Livia turned.

The woman was striking.

Livia smiled politely. "Hello. You have me at a disadvantage. Your name, please?"

"I am Seraphina Morley. You were introduced to my father earlier."

"Yes," Livia said. "The Earl of Morley. Of course."

Seraphina inclined her head. "It is quite the party."

"Thank you. Lord Langford is very kind."

"Yes." Seraphina looked around the ballroom. "He appears to be." Seraphina looked back at her. "So. You really are a witch."

Theodora’s voice returned. Do you know what England does to witches?

"Excuse me?"

Seraphina’s mouth curved faintly. "To have two powerful men eating out of the palm of your hand must be the work of dark arts."

Livia studied her. The woman’s tone was light. "I do not follow, Miss Morley."

"Please, call me Seraphina. The duke has been staring at you since the moment you walked in," Seraphina continued. "And, well, every lady has been doing what ladies do best at balls such as this."

"And what is that?"

"We gossip."

At least she was honest.

Livia’s eyes moved briefly across the room before returning to Seraphina. "I still do not..."

"Please," Seraphina said softly. "You are an intelligent woman. Do not insult me by pretending you do not know the duke is trapped in your orbit." Seraphina leaned slightly closer, her gaze never leaving Livia’s face. "Look at him."

Livia sent a careful glance in Richard’s direction. Sure enough, the Duke of Kingsmere was staring at her as though he intended to bore a hole clean through the ballroom and drag her into some private chamber by force of eyesight alone.

It was not subtle. He stood with a cup in hand, his posture controlled, his face composed to anyone who did not know him. But Livia knew the tension in his jaw. She knew the way his eyes fixed when his mind had decided upon a thing and his heart had refused to let go.

Unfortunately, everyone else was not blind either.

"It is..." Livia began, then stopped.

There was no graceful way to finish that sentence. It is complicated sounded weak. It is none of your business sounded defensive.

It is not what you think sounded like exactly what people said when it was precisely what everyone thought.

"That is the man I am arranged to marry, Lady Livia," Seraphina said.

Livia looked back at her.

"We women without the art of witchcraft really have the worst luck," Seraphina continued. "They simply hand us men, and then we must battle for their attention."

"So you believe that must be it," Livia said. "I practise witchcraft?" She had known it was coming. Theodora’s threat had not been idle. Women like the Queen Mother did not throw words for the pleasure of hearing them fall. Livia would not have been surprised if the whisper had originated from Theodora’s household.

"Is that the only reason men might be taken with me?" Livia asked. "Dark arts?"

Seraphina tilted her head. "I did not say I believed it. One should not confuse gossip with conviction. I have never believed in all that nonsense, really...Though I beg you not to let my mother hear I told you. She still has to drag me to Mass every Sunday." Seraphina’s mouth curved faintly. "What is the point of believing in something one cannot see?"

"I believe that is why it is called faith."

"Fair enough."

"I digress," Seraphina said. "You may not practise the darker arts, but you still have the duke in your grip."

"I do not."

"Lady Livia, I have known that man for exactly one evening, and even I can see he is being strangled by you from across the room."

"That is not my doing."

"Perhaps not. But it is still happening."

Livia drew in a slow breath.

"Let him go, Lady Livia," Seraphina said.

Livia looked at her. "This has not been formally announced yet, but I am marrying the king. Why would I still be holding on to the duke?"

"Because marriage does not always settle the heart. You may be marrying the king," Seraphina continued, "but perhaps you still love the duke."

"I assure you, I do not."

The answer came quickly. Then Livia realised it was true. There had been love of a kind once, perhaps, or something made from gratitude, and the need to believe in someone. But what she felt for Richard now was grief. A painful gratitude.

It was not love.

"You have no competition in me," Livia said.

Seraphina held her gaze. "That may be so. But have you told him in those exact words?"

Livia fell silent.

"The moment you walked in and I saw you, I understood why the Lord Chancellor chose me as the duke’s bride-to-be. The only thing that distinguishes us, Lady Livia, are our names and complexion."

"I am certain there are a lot more things that distinguish us," Livia said.

It was the polite thing to say. Unfortunately, now that Seraphina had pointed it out, Livia could see it too.

Seraphina was fair where Livia carried the warmer trace of Florence in her skin. Seraphina’s beauty was English, softly bred.