"I am saying you are free to do whatever it is that pleases you..."

Race let out a small sigh, his hand slipping up the side of Lady Carla's neck.

"You are asking me to have mistresses?"

Lady Carla moaned, her body pressing further into his, her fingers curling around his shirt.

"Use your freedom however you wish, Mr. Belington."

She gave him permission, he thought, tipping Lady Carla's head back as their kiss deepened. He wasn't wrong for giving in to the temptation of Lady Carla for his own wife made it very clear she wasn't going to yield her body to him anymore. And he was a man. He was flesh and blood, with a perfectly functioning body that required a woman's presence.

Still, a part of him protested his actions. Bedding Lady Carla would be a slap on Bianca's face. It would be a scandal none of them might be able to recover from. But so much more than the scandal, was the fact that Race did not want to be his father. He did not want to bring a bastard -like himself- into the world.

Reluctantly, he took hold of Lady Carla's hands that were clutching his shirt, and gently pushed her back.

"Mr. Belington?" She gasped, blushing.

He stared at her, his skin crawling with desire at the sight of her. Indeed she was beautiful, even more so than her sister. And kissing her, while it had been wrong, had felt wonderful. Her lips were warm and succulent, making it nearly impossible to turn away. Her ample bosom pressed to his chest, made him stir with desire. And her thin waist in his arms, made him want to do nothing more than pull her further against himself and derive pleasure from her.

But common sense and decency stopped him. And rather than carry her in his arms and to his bed, he turned from her and made his way up the stairs.

Race did his best to avoid Lady Carla after that. He kept the conversation between them short and polite, and kept himself busy in the study trying to sort out Lord Sterling's account before his death. He didn't see Lady Bianca either -not that he was surprised, for Lady Bianca had been actively avoiding him since their marriage.

There was a knock on the door, one he recognized belonged to Lord Sterling's -now his- butler. The tall, lanky man with salt and pepper hair, was always so formal around Race. He kept his head bowed most of the time and never made eye contact. But he was always present whenever Race needed him to be.

"Enter."

True enough, the butler pushed the heavy, wooden door open.

"Sir," He bowed to the waist, before straightening.

"Come right in, Francis." Race motioned with his hand, and the butler obeyed.

"Lord Bleiz, the Marquess of Camden has come calling." He offered Race the card.

Race nodded, somewhat eager to see his half brother. It had been a while since he saw Noah, and while he thought of paying Noah a visit, he was loath to run into Lady Atkins.

"Show him to my study."

"Very well, Sir." Francis dipped his head, and turned to leave the room.

It was only a matter of a few minutes before Noah appeared at the door, a wide smile curving his lips. Race stared at his brother, the older gentleman reminding him of their father. His brown hair was cut lower than Race remembered. He was clad in a white, starched shirt, with a tail coat worn over it. His cravat was tied to perfection, most likely the handiwork of a valet... Or a woman...

Race frowned at the thought. He didn't know if Lady Atkins still soiled his brother's bed, and he certainly didn't care to find out.

"Surely you are pleased to see me, Race," Camden rose a brow, motioning to Race. "At the very least, pretend. It speaks little of a man possessing of so much wealth, to remain seated upon the arrival of a nobleman."

Race scrambled to his feet then, and shook his head. "Forgive me, Noah."

Camden laughed, and crossed the room. Making his way around Race's desk, he pulled him into an embrace. "Congratulations, brother." He pulled away.

Race returned his smile and nodded. "This is all new to me. Please, sit." Camden walked over to the seat across from Race and sat down. "Scotch?"

"It is too early to be drinking. Another thing you must learn, dear brother."

Race shook his head and laughed nervously. "I feel like a fish out of water."

"Then you must pay me a visit and I shall teach you."

"Certainly not with her around." He blurted, and before he could stop himself, his brother frowned in response.

"Still holding a grudge against Bea?"

"When she's holding my brother captive, of course I hold a grudge." His frown deepened, the very thought of Lady Beatrice Atkins filling his mouth with a bitter taste.

"Perhaps we must not speak of her then. And if you must, then you shall respect her."

"Then I shall not speak of her." He rose to his feet and walked over to the mantle by the fireplace. He poured them both two glasses of scotch and carried them to where Noah sat.

Noah shook his head when Race held out a glass to him. Shrugging, Race emptied both glasses into his mouth.

"And Lady Bianca, your wife? Shall we formerly be introduced?"

"You already know Lady Bianca, do you not?" He turned from Camden and made his way back to the fireplace. He poured himself another glass.

"Perhaps we have exchanged pleasantries in a few balls, but Lady Carla was always more of the social butterfly. At some point, Lady Bianca stopped showing up for London's seasons."

He shrugged, his back still turned to his brother for fear he would sense his discomfort. He didn't know anything about Bianca, and like his brother, he and Bianca had only exchanged pleasantries -in his bed- once. The very thought of it frustrated him, and the longer he had to wait for her to pull out of her silly state, the more difficult it became to wait. Sooner or later, he just might be forced to visit the tavern or a brothel.

"Perhaps I cannot expect her to accommodate my presence today, especially because I didn't send word ahead of myself."

He placed the glass on the mantle and turned back to his brother. Nodding, "Perhaps. She must be busy with other things."

"Very well," Camden rose to his feet. "You seem determined to get drunk so early in the day. Go easy on the alcohol, will you? I have business in London in a few hours. I must be on my way."

Race didn't go easy on the alcohol. He instead stayed all day in his study, drinking in a failed attempt to ease his frustration, and his mounting desire for the closeness of a woman.

***

Bianca hadn't caught a glimpse of Race since the evening she saw him lip locking with her sister. And she didn't want to see him again! She never wanted to see him again. The truth was, she feared if she saw him, she would throw something in his face.

So, she sat in her room, unwilling to go down the stairs. She barely endured the presence of Carla as well, but something in her couldn't bear to dismiss her sister from her room. And so, rather than throw her out, she sat still and pretended to listen to her sister's chit chatter -that mostly consisted of gossip.

"He takes her everywhere now!" Carla scoffed, sipping her tea. "The nerves on the two of them, Bianca! I mean I was in the ball where Lady Atkins and Lord Bleiz were caught in a room together, clad in nothing! Can you believe her? Oh, the wench! I have never seen a woman lacking so much self respect."

I have, and she's sitting right in front of me.

"I just can't believe he's Mr. Belington's half brother. I can't believe he's a Marquess lacking of so much self respect. And her! Now I believe the rumors that she killed her husband. Lord Atkins was after all found with a bullet in his head. Why would a baron want to kill himself?"

Bianca was uninterested -in her sister, and in society as a whole. It was her sister's fault she journeyed to Bath to deliver the letter to Race; an action that eventually found her engaging in an act of shame with him. It was society's fault they had to get married even if they didn't love each other -What would society say? How would society handle the news? No body cared for her and what she thought. No body cared anything for her feelings!

She stopped listening to Carla and was relieved when she left her room. Ignoring the tray of sweets, she forced her tired feet to her bed. Her inability to eat only seemed to be getting worse as the days progressed. She could barely stand the sight of food, and wanted to do nothing but lie in bed. When she did manage to force something down her throat, it came swelling back up and spewing out of her mouth.

Then, there were the changes in her body -the soreness of her breasts, and the slight weight gain. At first she thought nothing of it, but the longer she considered it, and the longer her monthly flow seemed to delay in coming, the more apparent it became that she was pregnant.

The news came as a shock, a very unpleasant shock. She sat still in bed for several hours, and when she snapped out of her shock, she remained trapped in her room for several days, refusing to accommodate any visitor, especially her sister. She didn't care if she came off looking rude. She didn't care if the people who called on her -sending their numerous cards up to her room, longing to spend their afternoons with her- thought she was uncultured when she ripped the cards and sent her maids flying out of her room. She didn't care -about her sister, and about society. She certainly did not care about Race, even if his seed was now rapidly growing inside of her.