Page 166 of Dawnlands

Livia kissed her again, stepped back, closed the door, and watched the chairmen take up the poles and step out into the darkness.

“There go the hopes of England, of Christendom itself,” Father Petre said quietly beside her. “Are you going directly to St. James’s?”

She shook her head. “I have to make another visit first.” She looked around for Matthew. “Come with me,” she told him.

They went through the palace to the Whitehall Stairs, and down to the dark, fast-moving river. Matthew hailed a wherry.

“By rights, I should have gone home,” the wherryman complained.

“Holborn Stairs,” Matthew said to him. “Up New Canal.”

“It’s double price in this weather,” the man said.

“Double,” Livia agreed.

Matthew took a seat beside her as the wherryman rowed, going quickly with the tide. “I said all that you told me but nothing would convince him.”

“I will convince him,” she said simply.

They sat in silence until they reached the stairs and Matthew helped his mother up the Holborn Stairs, walked her to Hatton Garden, and tapped lightly on the front door.

“Is Dr. Reekie still up?” he asked the footman.

“Yes, Mr. Peachey, sir,” the footman said. He bowed to Livia. “Your ladyship.”

He showed them to Rob’s library at the back of the house. Rob was seated at the fire, studying a book of anatomy. He looked up, frowning, when they came in, and then he jumped to his feet as Liviaput back the hood of her cape and came forward to the fire to warm her hands, as calmly as if she were a regular visitor and it was not past midnight.

“I am here to tell you why you have to do what Matteo asked,” she told him calmly. “Are Mrs. Reekie and dear Hester gone to bed?”

“Yes.” He glanced at the little clock on the mantelpiece. “It’s very late. I can’t see you or speak with you.”

She nodded. “Matteo, wait for me in the hall.”

Matthew bowed and left the room as the Nobildonna took a seat without invitation at the fireside. Rob stood at the mantelpiece and looked down at her. “I gave my answer to Matthew,” he said. “Of course I will not give you a pauper baby, for you to impose upon England. The idea is madness. Nothing could make me join in such a deceit. I am appalled that you ask it of me, against my oaths as a doctor and my loyalty to my king. And through Matthew as well! I think you must have run mad.”

She stripped off one long glove, pulling at the fingers one by one and then drawing off the glove, revealing the curve of her naked arm. Then she took off the other and laid them across her lap. He found he could not help but watch her.

“I know,” she said frankly. “And I understand. But I have something to tell you.”

He waited.

“Matteo is your son, conceived when we were lovers.”

He was stunned. It was the very last thing he thought she would say, and the worst thing he could have heard. “He is not.”

“I should think I would know.” She smiled.

“You assured my wife, your lawyers assured Alderman Johnson’s lawyers…”

“Yes,” she said. “And if I don’t say differently to them, the marriage will go ahead.”

“It cannot go ahead if they are half brother and sister!” he exclaimed. “Livia—you cannot have thought! Any child they have could be horribly maimed, and the danger to Hester’s health… besides the laws of the church… the law of the land… your own feelings as amother… How could you?” He was lost for words. “This betrothal must be stopped at once.”

“I will stop it tonight,” she said simply. “Discreetly. Easily. Have no fear. I will stop it tonight.”

He was panting. “You will?”

She nodded. “In return for one favor: a newborn baby boy, brought to me the moment the queen goes into labor. By you.”