"Enough," she said again. She lifted her hands slowly. The borrowed cap had slipped, and a strand of hair had fallen loose against her cheek. The disguise had served its purpose and failed. "I am here...I am not going anywhere."
"My lady," he whispered.
Disappointment moved through him so visibly that Livia almost reached for him. Not disappointment in her, she realised. Disappointment in himself.
He'd failed his king.
They were dragged back to Whitehall like criminals brought in from a tavern brawl. The courtyard was already waiting.
Lanterns burned along the walls. Servants clustered in doorways until sharper voices drove them back. Guards lined the open space.
