Race stirred, his eyelids tearing apart to the sight of the dark room, as his fingers brushed something nearby. He immediately knew it was Bianca, even if he could barely see anything given darkness. The wood in the fireplace must have burned out in the middle of the night, and while he couldn't tell what time it was, he knew it was the early hours of the morning. It was not early enough to get out of bed, but he could barely convince his eyelids to shut once more. He had barely slept the night before after sneaking into the room in the middle of the night, hoping Bianca would be asleep by the time he went in. For some reason, as the days progressed, it became harder to face Bianca, knowing that the state of their finances was doing nothing but getting worse. But as he snuck into the room that evening, and settled into bed beside her, he immediately knew she was not asleep.

He had laid silently beside her, somewhat nervous she would reprimand him for sneaking into bed so late in the evening, but she hadn't. She had instead laid there, until the soft sound of her breathing began drifting to him.

Unable to fall asleep as well, he had laid wide awake wondering if he should pull her into his arms and apologize for his absence. He wondered if she was indeed upset about it.

It was a while longer before fatigue claimed him, and an even shorter time before he was waking up again.

He rose to his elbow, and stretched his neck to see if Bianca was still asleep, and from the sound of her breathing, she was. She was curled up on her side, her knees drawn up to her chest, and her body turned toward him. He couldn't see her face, but he suddenly desired to hold her close, to bury his face in her neck and revel in the sweetness of her closeness, and the scent of her skin. He wanted to forget in that moment, their predicament, and only think of her. He knew he had been doing everything but thinking of her. He had been so busy trying to ensure they did not get broke, he had withdrawn from her.

He shifted forward, and placed a hand against the side of her face. She moaned softly, but did not move.

Sighing because he did not wish to awaken her, he planted a soft kiss on her warm cheek, and struggled out of bed. It was most likely a few hours to day break, but he didn't think he was going to fall asleep anymore, so he decided to get started on working and trying to pay off some of the duke's debts.

He crossed the room and slipped out quietly. He made his way to the study where he spent the rest of the morning trying to sort of the accounts.

There was a knock on the door, the sound pulling him back to the present.

“Enter.” He did not bother to raise his head up.

“Good morning, Mr. Belington.” The butler greeted.

“Have Mrs. Belington know that I shall not be joining her for breakfast.” He lacked the appetite, and while he hated not spending any time with Bianca, he couldn't stand the thought of them losing the luxurious life she had grown up to. As it was, they already needed to fire a few servants. There was no doubt the news of their financial state was all over England. He certainly needed to fix things. Besides, she could dine with her sister, and he just might join them for supper.

“I am not here about Mrs. Belington, a visitor has called on you.”

Race raised his head up then. “Visitor?”

The butler nodded and crossed the room. He handed the card over to Race —Lord Anthony Wilson, the card read. Race frowned at the unfamiliarity of the name, before raising his head up once more, and asking the butler to usher the stranger into his study.

It was a few minutes before his butler appeared once more, closely followed behind by a large man who towered over him. His over six foot form was clad in a gray, tail coat worn over black trousers. His cravat was certainly the handiwork of an expert, and the white of the neck cloth matched perfectly with the color of the shirt worn underneath the coat. His straight, brunette hair reminded Race of the fact that he had forgotten to comb his hair that morning.

“Sir, Lord Anthony Wilson.” His butler announced, bowing to the waist.

Race dismissed the butler with a nod, and rose to his feet. “My lord.” He held out his hand to the large man, who crossed the room and took it.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Belington.” He shook Race's hand.

“Please, sit.” Race motioned to one of the two chairs across from him.

Lord Wilson obliged him, and took a seat.

“The last time I was here, you were in London.”

“You were here in the past?”

“Did your wife fail to tell you? We had quite a pleasant conversation while you were away.”

Race tried not to frown at the thought of Bianca being alone with a man. Wasn't that considered inappropriate before the eyes of society? Perhaps it was only considered inappropriate when a single woman was alone with a man without a chaperone, as opposed to a married or widowed woman? He was uncertain, for he knew nothing of society's ethics. Still, the thought of his wife alone in a room with this stranger was displeasing indeed.

“Perhaps she mentioned it, and I forgot.” He lied, knowing fully well that she didn't. He however would not admit it to this stranger. “May I ask why you are here, my lord?”

“Business, Mr. Belington. The duke owed me money before his passing. He borrowed a vessel that belonged to my father, for trade purposes. The deal was, my father would be entitled to thirty percent of the profit once the goods arrived England from America, in addition to the return of his vessel. Needless to say, Mr. Belington, the ship, and the money, was never given to my father. I remained unaware of the deal between them until a year after my father passed away from poisoning.” Race did not fail to notice the accusatory tone used by Lord Wilson. Was he insinuating that the duke had killed his father in order for his debt to be cancelled, or forgotten? Surely the duke was incapable of murder. “It was a few weeks before the duke's passing that I visited his estate and reminded him of the debt owed to my father.”

“Surely he paid you back the money?” When Lord Wilson shook his head, Race sighed in exhaustion.

“The duke promised to pay, but did not. He also promised to hand his daughter over to me as a wife, but did not. It turns out, Mr. Belington, that the old duke, was nothing but a lying bastard.” Lord Wilson leaned forward, his elbow resting on the desk before him. “If he wasn't, then it would be me seated in your place right now. I would be the heir, not you, Mr. Belington.”

Race understood then, that Lord Wilson had been referring to Bianca; the duke was going to hand Bianca over to Lord Wilson as a wife. Why? Why would the duke be willing to go to such lengths to cancel a debt? And why didn't he go through with his plans of an arranged marriage between the two?

The very thought of Bianca being married to somebody else, bothered him. He was thankful it never happened, but confused because it almost did.

He cleared his throat. “The dukedom is worth next to nothing now, Lord Wilson. All that is left is nothing but a deep hole of debts threatening to sink me in. I do not believe being the heir of a man who owes so much, is anything but a curse.”

“A curse I was willing to bear. I would have been the next duke of Leeds.” Anger flashed in his brown eyes.

Race shrugged, tiring of the conversation. As it was, he was tired of having to bear the burden of paying off a dead man's debts. What was the worst that could happen? Perhaps the people the duke owed would have the matter taken to court? Then what? All the court was empowered to do was have the duke's property liquidated to pay off what he owed, even if Race knew it would simply be impossible to have all that money payed off. “Perhaps if you would show me a copy of a document proving that the duke indeed owed you money, and stating how much was owed, I shall look into having your money paid.”

Lord Wilson eyes darkened in anger, his fingers curling into a fist on the desk. “I do not have proof.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “I was robbed three days later, and my manor was set on fire.”

Race felt the color drain from his face. Surely the fire was nothing but a coincidence?! He could not imagine the duke being behind the fire.

Horrified by the thought, he shook his head. “Then I am unable to help you.”

“Yet, you know very well that the duke was behind my misfortune, as well as the misfortune of my father.”

“I know nothing, Lord Wilson. Without valid proof that the duke indeed owed you money, I cannot pay you anything.” Slowly, Race rose to his feet and motioned to the door. “You may please leave,” He ignored the fury in the other man's eyes as he struggled to his feet. “And do not return, either to have a conversation with me, or chit chatter with my wife.”

*

Lord Wilson might have left after that, but Race was unable to forget him. He was unable to forget their conversation that morning —the fact that the duke was not only in debt, but might be guilty of murder, as well as the fact that Bianca had entertained a male visitor in his absence, and had failed to tell him about it. A part of him feared the conversation they had while he was away. Was Bianca aware that she was supposed to have gotten married to Lord Wilson, rather than him? Did she know that if she had married Lord Wilson, he would have become the new duke, for Race's illegitimate birth hindered him from having a title? Surely Bianca's marriage to a man of noble birth would have been much more favorable than a marriage to a bastard. Surely she thought so too. Why else did she would she keep the information of Lord Wilson's visit away from him?

Perhaps she forgot? He groaned, settling into bed beside her. It would have been nearly impossible to forget such a man. What bothered Race the most, was knowing he would have lost Bianca to that man... No, he shook his head. What bothered him the most was knowing he could still lose her. He could not deny the fire he saw in Lord Wilson's eyes as he spoke about his intended marriage to Bianca, and coming into the duke's wealth. The man was more interested in the title, and Bianca, than he was in the money that was owed to him.

But Race would forget Lord Wilson, he decided, turning over to the side, and pulling Bianca into his arms for the first time in many days. He would think nothing of the man for he had no other business with him considering he failed to provide proof of a contract between himself and the duke.

He kissed Bianca's lips, fully intending to awaken her.

She moaned, her eyelids flickering open. “Race.” She mumbled.

He leaned in close, and placed an arm around her. “Say you love me, Bianca.” He suddenly needed that reassurance.

She frowned slightly. “Well, are you alright?”

He shook his head. “Perhaps we should go back to Bath? I am uninterested in all of this.”

“Is this about Father's debts?”

He sighed, and nodded once more. It was beyond her father's debts, it was the fact that he could not bear the thought of losing her to another man, even if that was a silly thought. They were legally married, after all, were they not?

“Perhaps we must speak to Camden, perhaps he will be willing to help?”

“Camden hates me.” Race suddenly remembered his last conversation with his brother; it had been one that left him with a bloody nose, and a headache.

“I do not believe so. He is still your brother, even if he is upset.”

Sighing in resignation, he nodded once more. “Then I shall plead his assistance.”

A smile curved her lips; one that took his breath away. “Good.” She murmured, before closing her eyes once more.

Race turned from her, stretching his body out on the bed so that he was lying flat on his back, with his eyes fixed on the white ceiling. He didn't hear Bianca move, until her head was settling on his bare chest. She kissed his chest.

Glancing down, he met her gaze. “I love you, Race Belington.”

“Even if I am the product of an ill reputable union?”

“In spite of it.”

He smiled at her words. “I love you so much, Bianca.” He leaned down until he was claiming her lips. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close so that she was coming to rest on top of him.

She tilted her head to the side, their kiss deepening as her hands wandered down the length of his bare chest, until it came to settle on his waist. She pulled away slightly, “Although, there are times when I'm certain I absolutely hate you, Race Belington. Times when you ignore, and avoid me. Times when you lock yourself up in that accursed study, depriving me of your presence.”

He buried his fingers in her hair, her closeness setting his body on fire. “How could you possibly hate a man you, only a few seconds ago, confessed to love?” He grinned, kissing her neck.

“Perhaps I am crazy?” His lips trailed slowly up the side of her neck, a soft moan escaping her lips in pleasure. “Perhaps I am simply crazy in love with you?”

He chuckled, his lips pausing on her chin. He pulled away until he was staring into her eyes. “Forgive me.” He touched her cheek.

When she nodded, he pulled her back into his arms, and held her close to his chest until they both fell asleep.