Surely she was making a mistake.

The thought raced through her mind, stopping her fist in midair over the wooden door that stood firmly shut before her.

She frowned, the weight of her fears and anxieties making it nearly impossible to maintain her footing on the front porch of the unfamiliar, modest building.

Surely they will be less than welcoming.

The thought nearly saw her scampering down the stairs and away from the building. It nearly saw boarding a ship back to London. But she knew she couldn't return, for her time in London had certainly come to an end. There was nothing to return to. There was certainly nowhere else she could go. She could do nothing but stand here and pray earnestly that she would be welcomed. Hadn't they invited her themselves? She still remembered the letter they had sent:

Carla,

You must pack your bags and journey to Australia immediately, lest you cause irreparable damage to the already ruined name of our family.

Bianca.

Even in Bianca's absence, Carla saw her disappointment through the letter. She saw the disapproval, and she especially saw the anger. For every emotion scattered across that letter, Carla could give account; she understood her sister's rage, disappointment and disapproval. Yet she did not wish to abate them. For how could she journey to Australia to be with her sister when there was nothing there for her?—she had reasoned. Carla knew she had done more than enough damage to her sister's marriage to Race, and did not wish to worsen the situation by moving to live with them.

Unwilling to move, she had remained in London and had lived in Darlington Hall when her home was taken away from her by her father's creditors.

Darlington Hall might have provided had shelter and companionship for her for nearly three years, but Carla always knew the day would come when she would be forced to leave. Only, she had not been anticipating that day would come so soon.

Still, the letter had been sent a year ago and she was uncertain if the invitation still stood. She wasn't stupid enough to believe her sister really wanted her to live with her family; she knew Bianca only extended the invitation in a desperate attempt to salvage the situation and to keep Carla from sinking into the pit she had eventually sunk into. But she hoped Bianca would be willing to accommodate her until she could find something to do with her life. And although she didn't know what she would do yet, she hoped to find out soon.

Heaving a nervous breath, she pounded on the door.

She must have waited for only a minute when the door swung open, revealing a red cheeked little boy with large brown eyes and curly brown hair that was absolutely familiar to her.

A pleasant smile creased her face as she considered the child before her. "You must be Johnny." Bianca's son. She had mentioned him in her letters right after he was born. Bianca had written several letters through the years until she had caught wind of the scandal involving Carla in London. It was for this scandal that she had sent the letter imploring Carla to leave London, and when Carla had refused, Bianca had cut off every communication with her.

"Mama says no strangers!"

"Your mama is a smart lady, and you're a smart little boy—" Carla was saying when a familiar voice interrupted her.

Turning sharply around at the sound of the voice, Johnny let out a loud gasp, before turning back to Carla long enough to slam the door in her face.

Stunned, she stood frozen on the spot unsure of what was expected of her. Perhaps Bianca didn't want to see her? Perhaps she had seen her from the window upstairs and had instructed her son to get rid of her? It was a ridiculous thought, but she couldn't possibly imagine a better explanation for the less than welcoming reception she had just received.

Releasing a nervous breath once again, Carla reached out to knock on the door. If Bianca didn't want her, then it was only appropriate that she told her to her face.

Her knuckles barely brushed the wooden door when it gave way before her, revealing a barely familiar image of her sister.

"Carla?!" Bianca's brown eyes widened, her lips hanging loose.

"Bianca," Carla managed to speak past the nervous lump in her throat.

"I—" Bianca watched her, her hand clinging to the doorknob. "We weren't expecting you."

Her gaze fell to the wooden porch as fear clouded her mind; surely Bianca did not mean to turn her away now?!

"Forgive me, I should have sent word ahead, I just didn't think..." She sighed. She hadn't been thinking when she left, neither had she been thinking when she boarded the ship and came here. She had simply been desperate, and her desperation had led her to the only family she had left.

Something touched her face and when she raised her gaze, she was staring into Bianca's tired brown eyes. It was apparent that the years had changed Bianca; her once milky white skin was now darkened by the sun, her youth seemed to have ebbed away with time and her once slender figure was now made slightly fuller by motherhood and perhaps even by the ugly grey dress she wore. It was obvious to Carla that Bianca was not the Duke's daughter that left Camden nearly three years ago.

Still, in those tired brown eyes was something Carla had never had, something she spent her entire life fighting for, something that kept evading her no matter how hard she tried and how long she schemed; satisfaction. Bianca had found satisfaction and a family of her own, and Carla would have given anything to be in her place.

"I'm happy you're here, Carla, and that you're fine." Bianca smiled.

Carla heaved a breath in relief, tears crawling down her cheeks as she considered her sister; after all of those years, how was it that Bianca did not loathe her?

"You are?" she mumbled.

Bianca nodded, her smile broadening. "Of course." Stepping forward, she pulled Carla into her embrace. "Of course, dear sister."

And with that, Carla gave into her grief.

*

"You have a lovely home."

A small smile claimed Bianca's face as she helped Carla out of her dress that evening. It was true, she indeed had a lovely home. It had been a slow and gruesome process after their lives had nearly been ruined in England, but with their new home that was gifted to them by Camden, Race's horse breeding business, and their son, Bianca was finally happy.

"Yes, Camden was kind enough to give ownership of the house to Race. I've also taken up gardening and I dare say I find it quite satisfying. I almost hate our parents for keeping me away from the wonders of nature for all those years." She giggled.

"Mother was always so worried about sunburns." Carla slipped out of her dress.

"Oh, but nature is lovely and once in a while, I go horseback riding with Race and Johnny, or we go fishing in the lake, or we simply go tree climbing!" She giggled, feeling excited. "It was a boring childhood indeed. Sunburn is a small price to pay, Carla."

Carla offered her a small smile, before turning to retrieve her night dress from the bed. Bianca stood watching her sister slip into her nightdress, a small frown claiming her face as she noted the changes in her sister's body. She knew Carla was no longer the naïve girl she left behind in England, and as the years progressed and rumors of Carla's lifestyle in London began to filter back to them, Bianca fully regretted her decision to leave Carla behind even if she didn't completely believe those rumors.

"You lost weight," she noted, the edge in her voice quite hard to miss.

Carla didn't turn around until she had finished getting dressed. Slowly, she turned to Bianca, a small smile on her face. "It is the fashionable thing among the ton."

Bianca scoffed. "I do not miss the ton. Life will prove easier to do when it's being done for one's self. I find that certain dresses and foods and conversations are easier to have without the extra burden of all of society's opinion."

"Perhaps." She glanced down.

"You shall remain, shall you not?" It was Bianca's plan to provide shelter and safety for her sister. She knew Race did not approve of that plan the second she broke the news of Carla's arrival to him that morning, but she didn't think it possible to turn her sister away.

"Only for a while. Then I must find a home of my own."

"Do not feel pressured to leave just yet, Johnny only just met his aunt, and I only just reconnected with my sister." She offered Carla one final smile, before turning around to leave the room.

"And Race?" Carla's solemn whisper stopped her in her tracks.

Turning slowly around, Bianca raised a brow. "Race?"

"Surely he is unhappy about my presence, Bianca. I saw his face at dinner. And while I believe you might be pleased I'm here, I am in doubt you are desirous of my presence for very long."

"Race is pleased to see you," she lied.

"Oh, Bianca, do not see the need to pretend around me, I am certain you heard the rumors. Australia might prove too far for the ton, but Camden is Race's brother and we have bumped into each other on several occasions."

Carla's words confirmed Bianca's worse nightmares; the rumors were true.

For two years, Bianca fought to convince herself that the cruel words she had heard about her sister were nothing but vicious rumors. She had fought not to believe the worst about her sister, even if Race seemed convinced by the rumors. It was Race who had forced her to write the letter to Carla, summoning her to Australia. She knew Race did not want Carla living with them, but it was his desperate attempt to get her to stop ruining what was left of their lives. When Carla chose to remain in England, Race had suggested that cutting off communications with Carla would force her to see her wrong and return, but it had done nothing but turn her against all of them. Until today.

Bianca ran her tongue over her bottom lip, unsure of how to proceed with the conversation.

"Did you love him?" she blurted.

Carla stood still for several seconds, her eyes fixed on Bianca.

"No," she finally said.

"No?" The coldness in Carla's voice caused a shiver to race down Bianca's back.

"No. But I am not the devil the ton will have you believe I am, Bianca. What happened between Lord Devonshire and I—" she heaved a breath, turning from Bianca to the window.

Silence stood between them for several seconds. Bianca considered her sister, the famed mistress of a duke, the woman who was scorned and despised for ruining the marriage of the nobleman. It was a shame—Bianca could almost hear the women as they sat around their tables at lunch time—that the daughter of a disgraced duke could sink even lower than the shame of bankruptcy. The ton must have been so much more vicious with their words. Yet, for five years, Carla chose to remain, undaunted by it.

"Why would you stoop so low as to have an affair with a married man, Carla?! Surely you saw the injustice in that? Surely you saw the pain and shame you must have cost his wife and his entire family!"

"I saw nothing."

"What?!" Bianca suddenly remembered. She remembered a sister cruel enough to trick her into a trip that was designed to ruin her life forever when she was forced to marry a complete stranger. She saw a sister who had worked to seduce Race and to ultimately ruin her marriage. Why had it been so impossible to believe that that same woman would so cruelly ruin the marriage of another without batting an eyelash.

"I saw nothing, Bianca! I didn't exactly have a choice! The ton is unforgiving, even you must know that!"

"You had the prestige of our family name, your title..."

"Title is nothing when wealth is lost!" Carla spun around, a deep frown on her face. "What choice did I have?! Father and Mother were dead, the wealth was gone, you were gone, our home was taken right from under me! I did not have a choice!"

"You had a conscience!" Bianca barked, enraged by the selfish human being that stood before her. How could she trust Carla now?! How could she trust her cruel sister to not try to ruin her own happiness like she had tried to before when she tried to seduce Race?

Shaking her head, Bianca whirled around and left the room, knowing fully well that she could never trust Carla.

*

Bianca,

I must journey back to England. I cannot stay for I can no longer ignore the look of disappointment in your eyes every time you look at me. I know I am a disgrace, and I loathe myself for it. Yet, I have gone too far down this road to stop now. You must forgive me, Bianca, things are so much more complicated than you know. It may not appear so right now, but I am not the villain I am being made out to be.

I shall never forget you, Bianca, even if it is my wish that you forget me; that you move on with your family that is complete without me in it. I can never be a part of your lovely family and it is for your own good that I leave.

Good bye.

Carla.

Bianca heaved a small sigh, her eyes running over the letter for the umpteenth time that evening. She was so engrossed in it, she did not realize when Race entered the veranda, until his arms were wrapping themselves around her, the smell of grasses and horses enveloping her nostrils.

She smiled, leaning further against him as her eyelids flickered shut.

"It is not your fault," he whispered, his warm breath tickling her neck.

"I have been telling myself that for three days now, since I found the note on her bed that morning."

"You sheltered her for a week, Bianca. She didn't deserve it, but you did. She knew she had a home here, but she made a choice to leave."

"She hates me." She stifled a sob. Perhaps she never had a good relationship with her sister, but she was still her sister and with their parents dead, it was her responsibility to care for her. Bianca never admitted it out loud, but she blamed herself for the choices Carla made in the two years they had been apart. If she had insisted, Carla would not have ended up so badly.

"She is lost. She will not stay until she finds a home, Bianca. She didn't find a home here and it is not your fault."

Bianca considered Race's words. She had felt that way when she was in England; like she wasn't home. But here, in this modest building that was nothing compared to her father's mansion in England, and with Race and their son, she truly felt at home. It was a feeling of satisfaction, a feeling of peace, but most importantly, it was a feeling of freedom.

Perhaps Race was right and Carla needed to find her own home? She saw the look in her sister's eyes while she was here; the look of sadness, emptiness and once in a while, Bianca saw her longing when she would sit by the side at the table and watch Bianca, Race and Johnny engage in conversation. Suddenly, she knew Carla would never have been happy if she had chosen to stay with them.

Turning around until she was face to face with her lovely husband, she wrapped her arms around him and let out a slow breath as his arms curled around her waist. She kissed his neck before trailing her lips up until she was capturing his lips as she drank in the scent of his skin.

He returned her kiss with a passion that left her moaning with pleasure as his hands clutched her waist and her body bumped further into his.

Leaning back slightly, Bianca offered him a coy smile, before taking his hand in hers and leading him back into their home.