She didn't cry. She couldn't. She couldn't mourn for a life she never knew. She couldn't mourn for a soul she never met. She couldn't mourn for a body she never held.

Bianca told herself everyday since the physician walked into Race's bedchamber to break the news of her miscarriage to her, that she couldn't cry. What would be the point of tears anyway? What changes would her tears make? What comfort would it bring? It was nothing. It was nothing but mere discomfort for six weeks. It was nothing but the mere troubling of her stomach, and an inability to eat.

After the physician left, she insisted on returning to her bedchamber. Besides, she had only gone in to Race's bedchamber to be physical with him. She had gone in to give in to her lust. To ease her anger. To ease her loneliness.

She returned to her bedchamber and didn't see Race again... Until three days later. She was munching on a scone —her appetite completely gone, even if her morning sicknesses had ended with the loss of the baby— when the door was pushed open without a knock, and he appeared.

She sat still on the sofa, her hand holding on to the scone, as her eyes remained fixed on him. He stood there, clinging to the doorknob.

“Did you know? ” He finally asked, breaking the wall of silence in the room. “Did you know you were pregnant when you came up to my bedchamber that evening?”

Silence.

She couldn't speak. For the life of her, she couldn't do anything but sit there while he stood by the door with his eyes beholding her with so much accusations in them.

He blamed her. He didn't say those exact words, but his eyes told her that he blamed her for the death of their baby.

When she didn't respond for several seconds, she thought he would rip the knob out of the door. A muscle worked in his jaw, and two deep lines pulled on the edges of his brows.

But that was all. He didn't yell. He didn't rip the knob out. He didn't voice his feelings. All he did was turn around and walk away.

After Race's visit, Bianca began to blame herself as well; she knew. She knew she was pregnant, she felt the pains she knew threatened the life of her baby, she knew she shouldn't have sat still so often, neglecting to get in some exercise. She should have told Race about it. She shouldn't have gone into his bedchamber that evening.

She sat blaming herself for several days, and finding even more reasons to do so.

Rising to her tired feet, Bianca made her way to the window one sunny afternoon and pushed the curtains aside; she might have decided to stay isolated, but she could use a little sunshine in her life.

When she turned from the window, the soft knock on the door alerted her to the presence of a maid. Rather than stand afar off and give the command to enter, she walked to the door and pulled it open.

“My lady.” The maid curtsied.

“What is it? ” She asked, impatient.

“Visitor, my lady." She handed the card to Bianca.

Frowning, she glanced down at it; Lady Atkins.

Her frown deepened. What did Lady Atkins want with her? She had never encountered Lady Atkins in the past, not even once. She had however heard many things about the woman from Carla, all of which were unpleasant.

Curious, Bianca nodded. “I shall see her.”

She let the maid into her room to help her change out of her night dress, and into a more appropriate day dress. Her brown hair was made into a French braid.

Rising to her feet, Bianca began making her way to the drawing room where Lady Atkins awaited her arrival. She wondered about the woman's visit throughout her journey to the drawing room, but she never came up with a suitable reason.

When she entered the drawing room, a woman was seated on the sofa. The first thing Bianca noticed as she slowly began moving toward Lady Atkins, was her hair. Rather than the extremely curly mass of red hair to be pulled into a suitable hairdo, the baroness wore her hair down. It tumbled over her shoulders that were left exposed by her green off-the-shoulder dress.

She rose to her feet as Bianca approached, a smile creasing her freckled face. But it wasn't her freckles that forced Bianca's legs to a halt, it was her eyes...

Green... And blue! Two completely different colors! Both eyes neglecting to come to a consensus on what color they wanted.

Realising that she had been staring for too long, Bianca curtsied.

“Your Ladyship.”

“Please, call me Bea.” Lady Atkins smiled, covering the distance between herself and Bianca. She took her hand and gave it a small squeeze. “And you must be Mrs. Belington, Race's wife?”

Bianca could barely respond, her mind stuck on the name; Bea. Race had began to call her Bea because he said she reminded him of someone. It became clear to her in that moment, who that 'someone' was.

Slowly, she nodded. “Please sit.”

Lady Atkins released her hand and resumed her position on the sofa.

“Would you like some refreshments?”

She nodded. “Please, I am starving.”

Bianca reached for the bell on the coffee table and rang it. When a maid appeared, she ordered a bottle of red wine, desiring the alcohol if only to calm her raw nerves.

“Oh, no wine for me.” Lady Atkins laughed nervously. “Perhaps some tea? Green tea, to be precise. ”

Bianca thought it odd the baroness would reject a glass of wine. While many women of the ton didn't like to indulge in wine before the men, they did enjoy a few glasses in the absence of men. Unless of course the woman was pregnant...

Her eyes immediately darted to the baroness's flat stomach. She wore a rather stylish green dress, one that required a corset. Lady Atkins however, wasn't wearing a corset.

“Three weeks. ”

Bianca gasped, her eyes immediately darting up to the baroness who sat nodding.

“Forgive me, Your Ladyship, I did not mean to pry.” She was saying when the maid reappeared with a pot of tea.

Thankful for the distraction, she watched the maid pour tea into two teacups.

“Do not worry about it, I certainly cannot keep a child hidden for very long now, can I?”

Bianca didn’t know why the young widow spoke so openly about the child she was to bear. It certainly couldn't belong to her husband who died over a year ago. But, Bianca decided she liked Lady Atkins. She was nothing like Carla described.

“Congratulations." She murmured, reaching for her cup.

“And my condolences, ” She glanced at Bianca's flat stomach. “For your loss, Mrs. Belington. ”

Bianca shrugged, unwilling to consider her own loss. “Please, call me Bea.”

***

Loss easily translated into guilt, and guilt, into anger. Race decided anger was the only way he could deal with the news of the loss of their baby. But his anger wasn't directed toward Bianca, it was toward himself. He should never have touched her! He should have known when she snuck into his bedchamber that evening, that she was pregnant! He should have noticed from the changes in her body. But he had instead given into his lust, and it was lust that led to the death of their child.

Desperate to get away from his emotions, he journeyed to Leeds. He also needed to take care of the duke's business, as well as see to the administration of his estate. Race didn't think he would ever live in Leeds, but he couldn't leave it unattended to.

Leeds however, didn't help him forget his loss. It instead reminded him of it for If they had borne a son, he would have been Lord Leeds, the duke of Leeds.

Did Bianca think about their child? Did she mourn its loss? He was cruel for journeying without inquiring about her feelings, or her welfare. Deciding to journey back to Camden a week later, he arrived the estate in the evening.

He made his way to his bedchamber, took a bath, and changed his clothes, before going down for a late dinner all by himself. He ate in silence, especially grateful for Lady Carla's absence. He knew she was playing the seductress, and he was not exactly sure he liked it. They had kissed, and he took responsibility for it, but that was all. That was all that could ever exist between them; he would not be his father.

But something in Race also knew his decision to stay away from Lady Carla transcended his determination not to be like his father. A small part of it was because he didn't want to shame Bianca.

He remembered their evening together just before she suffered the miscarriage. It had been great, much better than their first time together; much better than it had been when he thought she was Carla. Maybe it didn't mean anything to her —to either of them— but at least she was willing to share his bed.

He placed his fork on his plate and leaned back, desiring Bianca. Would she sneak into his bedchamber once more tonight? He didn't know, for they hadn't spoken since after the miscarriage.

Race laid in bed that evening, wishing, longing, desiring and nearly running mad with the yearning to open his eyes to find Bianca leaning down over him. But an entire hour went by, and she didn't come.

Rising to his feet, he paced the length of the room. Perhaps he should send for her? Have a maid knock on her door and deliver his message to her? He shook his head. The maids were asleep. Perhaps he should wait, she might come. There was however the possibility that she wouldn't.

Sighing in frustration, he ran his fingers through his hair. If she wouldn't come, he would go to her.

Coming to a decision, he made his way out of the room and down the stairs. He found her room, and without bothering to knock, turned the knob and entered.

Bianca was asleep on the bed in the far end of the room. Slowly, he made his way to the bed, and settled in beside her.

“Race.” She must have heard him, for she turned to him, her eyes red from fatigue.

Guilt washing over him for interrupting her rest, he immediately shook his head. “Forgive me for disturbing you.”

She blinked. “Where were you?”

“Leeds.” He admitted, feeling ashamed for not informing her of his intentions to journey to Leeds. “I thought we...” He knew asking her to be intimate tonight would be selfish. So, he shook his head. “I should return to my room.”

He made to rise, when something took hold of his hand. He turned to Bianca.

“Stay." She whispered. “Stay with me.”

Nodding, he settled back into bed with her, and held her in his arms until they both fell asleep.