Bella swallowed. "Because…" she began, then stopped. "Because I do not want you to marry the princess," she said at last.
Henry smiled. He crossed to the chair beside Bella's bed and sat. Clearly, this would not be a brief conversation. "Even if," He began carefully, "by some miracle she leaves the duke and decides to be with me, Bella, the princess does not simply go away."
Bella frowned. "Why not?"
There were moments Henry forgot how young Bella was. Then she would ask a question so simple and honest. Why not? As if betrothals between crowns could be untied. As if England's pride were not sitting upon his shoulders.
"Because she is not a troublesome guest I can ask to quit the palace," Henry said. "She is the Princess of France."
"An unfortunate condition, yes, but surely not incurable."
Despite himself, his mouth twitched.
"Your Highness, do you know how rare it is to find love like that?"
"I am aware."
"Why would you give that up?"
