The razor gently glided down his chin, and to his neck. Bianca watched Race's upward and downward movements with the razor as he shaved the stubble on his chin for several minutes, enjoying every second of the action before her, while pretending to read a book. He took a towel and wiped his face clean, before placing the towel back on the dressing table.

He was leaving her, albeit for a few days. She tried not to imagine her life in his absence, as she watched him get dressed.

"Will you help me?" He turned to her.

Nodding, she rose to her feet, and placed the book on the chair. She crossed the room, retrieving the fabric from his hands.

"You should learn to tie this." She leaned forward and placed it around his neck.

"I like it better when you do it." She felt his hands wrap around her waist, and pull her forward until she was bumping into him. He kissed her neck. "I love it when you do it." He nibbled on her earlobe, evoking a soft giggle from her lips. "I love you."

She pressed her lips to his cheek. "I know." Leaning back once more, she tied the cravat as best as she could with her mind mostly focused on his arms still curled around her waist. She could barely concentrate on anything else with Race around. And while it had been three weeks since he confessed to being in love with her, her heart still skipped, and her limbs weakened everytime she him heard repeat those same words. "Still, you must tie your cravat yourself once you are in London."

"Are you sure you do not wish to come?" He raised a brow.

Her hands fell to her side once she had finished performing what had somehow become her duty; the tying of his cravat. "I am certain." She didn't want to socialize and attend balls. She hated the season, and while she knew Race would most likely run into her sister in London, she trusted him. Besides, if she wasn't mistaken, then Carla had most likely found herself a prospective husband by now.

"I do not wish to leave your side, Bea, but it has become imperative that I do not ignore some of these invitations to social gatherings, extended by your father's —now my— business partners. Camden believes it is unwise to ignore them."

She nodded. Race's half brother was right; it would be unwise for Race to miss the season. Not only was he a stranger in the midst of England's elites, he was a man whose birth was as a result of a less than honorable union. Everybody expected failure from him, and if he was going to succeed, he needed to not only prove his worth to some of her father's contacts, he needed to make new friends as well.

Bianca on the other hand, loathed those gatherings. She never could fit in when she was unmarried, and now that she was married to a man considered a bastard, there was no doubt tongues will wag the second she steps into a ballroom.

"I know and I understand. It is but a few hours away, and the second you choose to return, I shall be here waiting."

He nodded. "I must leave now." He leaned forward and captured her lips. She kissed him in return, before pulling away.

"Perhaps you must find a valet to help you with your cravat." She motioned to it.

He glanced down briefly, and lifted his eyes up once more, a frown now creasing his face. "I do not suppose I want anyone else tying this. I shall simply neglect to wear one."

She opened her mouth to argue, but nodded to his words instead. She did like the idea of being the only one worthy enough to tie his cravats, even if it was a silly idea.

Race departed for London that morning. Left alone and with nothing to do, Bianca ate her meals in the confines of her bedchamber. There were days she took short walks in her mother's garden, but most of the time, she stayed in her bedchamber, and did nothing but await Race's return to Camden.

She should have gone with him, she chastised herself, as she hugged her pillow to herself one evening. It had only been three days since he left, yet she missed him. Perhaps she could get a coach to take her to him? She shook her head, deciding against it. She would need to wait for his return. It certainly wasn't a pleasant experience, for she longed for him especially on nights like tonight when all she wanted to do was be in his arms.

It was several hours before she fell asleep. She woke up the next morning to her daily routine that involved nothing but meals and short walks. She was on her way down the stairs, when a servant met her halfway.

"My Lady," She curtsied. "Lord Anthony Wilson is here to see Mr. Belington." She offered Bianca the card.

Bianca frowned, thinking the name sounded familiar, yet being unable to remember where she heard it.

Curious, she made her way to the drawing room, where Lord Anthony rose to his feet once she entered.

"My lady," He bowed his large frame to the waist, a frown creasing her features the second he straightened and she saw his face.

Indeed, she knew him. She had bumped into him three weeks ago in Lord Gregory's ball.

"My Lord," She curtsied. "To what do I owe this visit?"

"May I please sit?" His eyes sparkled, and Bianca was certain she didn't like him.

"Mr. Belington is in London. I am sure the servants informed you of this?" She said, neglecting to offer him a seat.

"Yes, but my efforts of visiting must not be wasted by simply coming and leaving without saying hello to Mr. Belington's wife, also the daughter of the duke of Leeds."

"You knew my father?"

He nodded. "Heard of his death while I was away. I came to pay my respects."

Bianca heaved a breath and motioned to the sofa behind him. "Please be seated, my lord."

He smiled. "Thank you, my lady."

She waited until he was settled on the seat, before placing herself on the chaise. "Shall I offer you some refreshments?"

"I am neither hungry nor thirsty, my lady, but thank you."

"Very well."

"Pray, how is Lady Carla?"

"You know my sister as well?"

He nodded. "I do not believe we ever met, but my father did conduct some business with your father before he passed."

Bianca examined the man before her. He indeed looked familiar, and the longer she sat watching him, the more apparent it became that she had seen him in the estate in the past, even if she wasn't certain of when she had seen him.

"I seem to remember seeing you around. Are you here for business, Lord Wilson?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps I must see your husband first. Once he is back to Camden, of course." Rising to his feet, Bianca rose to her feet as well, slightly confused by the man who stood before her. His presence left her feeling uneasy, but she fought to keep it hidden. "I must leave now. Please, accept my condolences for the loss of your parents."

"Thank you, my lord."

Bianca only started breathing properly once Lord Wilson had exited the room, and thankfully, he deem it fit to visit her again after that.

Two weeks later, Race returned to Camden. Bianca waited until the carriage had come to a complete halt, before racing down the stairs, and flinging herself into his arms once he was out of the carriage. She kissed him on both cheeks.

"Oh Race, I missed you!" She announced, ignoring the presence of the servants who stood on the stairs, watching. Indeed, she missed him dearly, for there wasn't a day of those two weeks without him, that she didn't imagine hiring a coach to take her to him.

He chuckled and tightened his hold on her. "I missed you too, Bea. It was especially dreadful without you."

She smiled and pulled away, her eyes running down the length of him. Other than the fact that he appeared tired, there wasn't any change to his physical appearance; he still hadn't bothered with a cravat, he forgot to comb his hair, and his clothes were quite informal.

"And the balls? Did you get to meet with some of Father's old contacts? Did you make new contacts?"

"I could never fit into any of those balls. But yes, I did meet with a few businessmen."

"And Carla? Did she find a husband?"

"I am uncertain. Your sister seemed pleased with all the attention she was getting. Nothing pleased me in London," He touched her face. "Nothing but the thought of coming home to you."

Heat traveled up her neck, setting her face ablaze. She missed him in that way as well, but the thought of the servants listening in on their conversation made her feel uneasy.

Race placed his hand on the small of her back, and led her into the building. Bianca had ensured that for dinner, somewhat of a feast was made in celebration of his return, but Race merely picked at his food. She tried not to let his hesitation to eat bother her, and instead focused her mind on what she hoped would take place once they were alone in their bedchamber. But dinner ended, and rather than go with her up the stairs, Race leaned down and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"I need to go over the accounts in the study. It might take a while, so do not wait up."

Disappointed, she nodded. He left her alone in the dining area that evening, and after trying and failing to finish her meal, she abandoned the plate half full, and made her way up the stairs to their room.

Race's instruction was not to wait up, but Bianca couldn't help but defy that instruction. She couldn't sleep, not with the thought of Race choosing to work rather than be with her, keeping her awake all evening.

She heard him when he finally walked into the room. The fire was out, and the room was dark, but she knew it was him. And when he settled in bed beside him, she inched closer and nestled against him.

"Perhaps you failed to miss me as much as I did you." She murmured against his chest.

She felt him plant a kiss on her head. "Camden was wrong," He sighed. A small frown settled on her face, as she raised her head to look at him. She could barely see his face in the dark, but she sensed his unease.

"Wrong?"

She thought she saw him nod. "It turns out I shall never be accepted. I do not believe any of your father's business partners would indeed want to continue working with me."

"Because you are a..."

"Bastard." He finished.

"That is ridiculous!" Bianca's voice rose a notch as she pushed herself to a sitting position. "You got invited to all those balls."

"Perhaps to get inspected by them. Perhaps it was in order to mock me, I am uncertain, but London was the confirmation I needed. I am uneducated, Bea, and I lack the skills to keep up with this much wealth. They were right to speculate I shall lose it eventually."

Sensing the hopelessness in his voice, Bianca leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his torso. "You shall not lose it."

"I cannot fail you, I do not want to." His warm breath tickled her ear.

"You won't. Do not think too much of it, Race."

"I felt useless, and unworthy. It was worse than a small ballroom here in Camden. It was grand, and large, and a lot of condescending stares. And to make matters worse, I am unable to perform the simplest act, like tie a damn cravat."

While Bianca wasn't the least bit surprised by Race's words —for she knew very well the society she was raised in— she was angry. She hated every single one of those men for how they treated Race, and she wanted nothing but to give them a piece of her mind. But Race was right, he couldn't fit in for he wasn't of noble birth. He would never understand the society, and even she who was born into it, found it difficult to understand.

Yet, she had survived. She had learned to live without them, and she was certain he would survive it as well.

"Perhaps you do not have to fit in. Perhaps it is best to be rid of some of Father's estate, and to sell off the shipping business and purchase a few farmlands, and mine lands? We can move back to Bath, and you can focus on farming, and breeding horses."

Silence followed her words, and sensing Race was considering them, she rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes.

"No," He wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "I shall not."

Bianca laid still in his arms, fully expecting an explanation. Why wouldn't he just take her advice? It was the wise thing to do. They didn't need the luxury, and she didn't care about any of it. She only cared about him.

Bianca fell asleep that evening, waiting for an explanation.