*

Race could barely pay attention to the conversation going on around him. He didn't belong here, with these men of noble birth. He couldn't fit in, no matter how hard he tried. But that wasn't the only reason he could barely pay attention, Bianca was the major reason. His mind kept wandering to her, making it difficult to focus on anything else. When he went through his daily routine, he thought of her, and when he laid in bed every evening, he thought of her. Still, he didn't go to her. He was too upset to go to her.

When the ball finally came to an end, he was glad to climb into the carriage. Carla sat beside him, speaking almost nonstop, but he paid her no mind. He instead nodded, and grunted once in a while to her words.

The carriage came to a halt several minutes later, and he hurried inside where he remained trapped in his study for several hours, trying and failing to get his mind off of Bianca as he worked. But he couldn't. Even as he laid in bed that evening, he could barely do anything but think of her. He desired her.

Turning over to the side, he groaned in frustration and closed his eyes. It was her desire that their marriage be in name only, and he was determined to fulfil that desire, even if it threatened to drive him mad.

He barely slept that evening, and by the next morning, he once again chose to have his breakfast in his bedchamber. He ate every meal in his bedchamber because he was afraid of running into Bianca, and giving into the desires of his flesh once he laid his eyes on her.

A knock sounded on the door, just as he lifted the teacup to his lips. Pausing, he raised his eyes to the door.

“Enter.” He said, before taking a sip of his coffee.

The door was pushed open, and a maid appeared. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide, and the rapid rising and falling of her chest alerted him to the fact that she had been running.

Suddenly panicked by the sight of her, he slowly rose to his feet, anticipating the bad news.

“What has happened?”

“The mistress! She-” She pointed behind her. “She was brought in this morning by a servant of Lord Johnson...”

“What?” He shook his head, confused. He could barely hear a word she spoke through her trembling lips.

“Mrs. Belington was found and brought here, almost lifeless!”

A loud crashing sound followed the maid's announcement, and it was then that Race realised he had been holding the teacup, and had released it as soon as the maid broke the news.

Ignoring the shards of glass on the floor, he hurried out of the room, and down the stairs. He pushed Bianca's door wide open, and hurried to her bedside.

Gasping, his heart stopped at the sight of her.

“Bianca.” He breathed, settling beside her still form on the bed. He reached out with trembling hands, and pulled out a leaf from her hair. When he withdrew his hand, his lungs constricted at the sight of the blood that stained his fingers. “Bianca.” He touched her pale face, willing her to wake up. What happened?!

His hand slipped down her face to her neckline, his eyes moving slowly down her form; from her ripped sleeves, to the dirty hem of her dress.

He could barely force his lips to give the command to his servants to call a Physician, but once the command was given, and the room was emptied out, Race sat still by her side, unable to think past his pounding heart. Fear for her life clouded his mind, but he didn't let it get to him. He couldn't give in to fear, at least not now. Now, he needed a clear mind to think. To think of what to do, to think of a solution, to try to make sense of everything.

Was she attacked? How did she get out of the estate? When did she leave? Perhaps she was kidnapped in the estate? Where was she found? He needed to speak with the servant. He ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated. Where in hades was the Physician?!

The Physician showed up after what seemed to Race like an eternity, right before he jumped off of the cliff of his sanity. Just then, a tall, lanky man with grey hair, and glasses seated on the bridge of his nose, entered the room.

“Mr. Belington, ” He called in greeting, but Race didn't bother to return the pleasantries, he instead motioned to Bianca.

The Physician nodded, and crossed the room. He leaned down over Bianca, his eyes scanning her neck. He reached out, and pushed her torn sleeve aside, revealing bruises on her shoulder. A deep frown immediately settled on the Physician's face. Slowly, with his nose almost touching Bianca, he began scanning her body. When he reached her legs, he straightened.

“May I please ask that I be left alone with the patient?”

Race had not noticed the servants that stood by the doorway, until the began walking away.

“That includes you too, Mr. Belington. ”

He opened his mouth to tell the Physician that he wasn't going anywhere until he knew what happened to his wife, but he decided there wasn't any point standing there and looking on helplessly. He needed a drink. He needed the alcohol to clear his mind and ease his anxiety.

Stiffly, he turned away and made his way to his study where he poured himself a glass of scotch. He clung to the glass with both hands, deciding not to give in to the urge to drink the entire bottle. He needed just one glass, he wouldn't indulge his desire to drown himself in the entire bottle. He couldn't afford to get drunk. He needed to know what had happened to his wife! He hissed, slammed the glass on the table. He needed to know how it happened, and when. Why was she in such a state; bloody, dirty, with a ripped dress? Why wasn't she conscious?

He let out a shaky breath, and placed his fists on his waist. He needed to calm down. He needed to think. He needed to keep his sanity, and not give in to the urge to barge into Bianca's room, and demand to know what was going on. No, he would wait for the Physician to come to his study and break the news to him. He would wait to be told Bianca would be alright. Because she would, wouldn't she? Of course she would, for he couldn't lose her. She couldn't die, he didn't want her to die!

The Physician didn't come, and Race was certain he was dry on patience. Anxious, he began pacing the floors.

It is only a matter of time, Race. He told himself, hands clasped behind him as he continued to pace.

“Race?!” The door flung open. Race turned around, a frown immediately settling on his face at the disappointing fact that it was Carla that entered, not the Physician. “What happened?” She crossed the room, and threw her arms around him, his body immediately responding to her closeness.

He reached up and untangled her hands from around his neck. Gently, he pushed her away. “I cannot speak with you now, Carla.” He turned from her, hating the way his body warmed by the simplest physical contact between them.

“But... Bianca... I was only just informed.” She wept. “Surely this cannot be happening, Mr. Belington.”

Race sighed, feeling somewhat sorry for her. He turned around to find her face buried in her palms. Closing the distance between them, he pulled her into his arm, fighting his own lust as her body leaned further into him.

She pulled away slightly, and glanced up at him with watery eyes. He stared at her pale face, his eyes moving slowly down and settling on her lips.

Her hands moved seductively up his chest, his arms instinctively tightening their hold around her waist. She leaned further into him, closing the distance between them until their lips were locked in a kiss.

“Mr. Bel-”

Carla jumped back, and Race Immediately spun around to face his desk, heat climbing rapidly up his neck as he listened to the Physician enter the study.

“Dr. Anderson!” Carla sounded breathless. She was no doubt pink from blushing.

“Lady Sterling.” Race thought he detected displeasure in the Physician's voice.

“How is my sister?”

“Unwell. If you would excuse us, I shall have a word with Mr. Belington. ”

“Yes, certainly. Do excuse me, Mr. Anderson... And Mr. Belington.”

Race's shoulders stiffened as he listened to Carla leave the room. Unable to turn around for fear the Physician would see the guilt in his eyes, he kept his back to him.

“How is she?”

“I understand you are not a man born into nobility, Mr. Belington, but surely you are capable of exercising discretion. Surely you have not turned the sister of your wife to a mistre-”

“I do believe you have deviated from my initial question, Mr. Anderson.”

“Pray, what was your initial question? ”

“How is Bianca?”

“Still unconscious. She is as unwell as you left her two hours ago.”

He crossed the room then, and settled on his chair behind his desk. The Physician didn't move, he instead maintained his position by the door.

He clasped his hands before him, guilt washing over him. “What happened?”

The Physician stood silently, his eyes fixed on Race.

“I do not believe I am certain, Mr. Belington. ” He finally said.

“Then you may leave, and I shall bring a Physician who shall examine her and be certain.”

“Do you love her, Mr. Belington? ”

“Again, a diversion, Mr. Anderson.” He reached for his abandoned glass of scotch and downed the liquid.

“I am loath to tell you what it is that took place, lest you expose her to the cruelty of society's gossips. You must know that Lady Carla is but a child, certainly not past the age of eighteen. She has always had the face of an angel, but Bianca possesses that angel's heart. I am certain you know by now that a heart outlives a face.”

“As I am certain you are aware of the reason we were forced to get married. Your advice has fallen to the dust, Mr. Anderson, where I'm certain it belongs. A man is not made a monster simply by entertaining the idea of a mistress. On the contrary, he is made a Marquess! ” He spat, rising to his feet. “Society doesn't frown on the thought of a man keeping a mistress, it just frowns on the products of his promiscuity; his bastard. Nonetheless, I do not plan on making Lady Carla my mistress. I shall not ruin her. Neither shall I fail to be discrete about having a mistress.” He folded his arms, fighting his anger. “If that is all, Mr. Anderson, then I must be excused, for I am required to see to the wellbeing of my wife.”

He began making his way across the room and to the door, when Mr. Anderson's words stopped him dead in his tracks:

“It appears to have been rape, Mr. Belington.”