The weeks went by quickly. Too quickly, Bianca thought, as she held her sister's missive in her hands —Carla would be returning to Camden in a week.

Displeased, Bianca carefully folded the note, and placed it on the dresser before her. She was far from happy about the news of Carla's pending return, and what was even worse, was the fact that Carla had failed to mention whether or not she had succeeded in finding a suitable husband. Bianca knew she needed to trust Race, but she did not trust her sister to refrain from trying to seduce Race. And she... Well, she would be unable to keep a watchful eye on the two of them, especially now that she was pregnant.

Her eyes gently shifted down her image in the mirror, and settled on her flat stomach. Slightly placing her hands on her stomach so that her fingers barely brushed the soft fabric of her dress, she let out a soft sigh. She was pregnant, for however long, she was not exactly sure. Although she had been experiencing some discomforts in her stomach, she had thought nothing of it. She had instead been too busy thinking of ways to help Race gain the respect of the ton. Perhaps not even respect —for she doubted they would respect a bastard— but at least a way to make them give him the benefit of the doubt. She had thought of various ways to try to gain their attention —perhaps she must pay them a curtsey visit? Perhaps she must invite them over for dinner, or luncheon? Nothing seemed sufficient.

It was only the morning before that she concluded she was pregnant. She had been standing before the vanity, with the maid helping her into her dress, when she all of a sudden felt dizzy. Slightly confused, she had barely warded the maid's hands off, and settled on the chair, when what was left of her dinner from the night before, came spewing out of her mouth.

Even now, as she stared at her image in the mirror, she thought her breasts seemed bigger. Still, she imagined she could be wrong, for she hadn't missed her monthly flow the month before. Perhaps she had only thrown up because her stomach did not approve of the soup she had that evening?

She decided then that she would wait until the end of the month to confirm whether or not she was indeed with child, before breaking the news to Race. She did not think she could bear the thought of raising his hopes up, and then letting him down, for she knew how hard her last miscarriage had been; while she hadn't given herself the chance to grieve, Race had been affected greatly by the loss of the child.

Bianca settled a silver necklace on her neck, before rising to her feet, and making her way out of the room. She imagined Race would be on the breakfast table by now, no doubt waiting for her. She heard him every morning when he woke up before the day broke and snuck down to his study. He would then stay there, working tirelessly to try to maximize profits from the business; he was afraid of failing.

A small frown tugged on the edges of her brows as she made her way down the stairs. Race had made it very clear that he would not take her advice of moving back to Bath, and while she hated how stubborn he was being, she understood his desperation not to fail, and have all of England laugh in his face.

She entered the dining room, surprised to find Race missing.

"Where is my husband?" She asked the maid who was setting the breakfast table.

"I believe in his study, Mrs. Belington." She curtsied.

Bianca's frown deepened. She turned from the dining room, and took the short hallway down to Race's study. He was indeed there, with his head on the desk before him.

She heard his soft snores as she approached. He had fallen asleep on a pile of paper.

Leaning down, she combed her fingers through his hair. "Race?" She whispered, kissing his head.

He stirred, turning his head on the desk, until he was facing her. Weary lines raced across his forehead, with tired sacks underneath his eyes. "Bea." He murmured, straightening until he was leaning back against the chair.

"Are you alright?" She took a step forward, and settled on the desk before him. She touched his warm cheek. "Perhaps you must rest."

He nodded. "I should sleep a little."

"I do not mean sleep, Race, I mean rest from all of this. Rest from trying to prove a point to people who do not care. Perhaps we must journe—"

He shook his head. "We are not leaving Camden, Bianca."

Frustrated, Bianca folded her arms across her chest. "I do not care about any of this. If Father's business is doing so poorly..."

Race rose to his feet, the smell of alcohol drifting into her nostrils. She immediately knew he had been drinking all morning.

"I do not wish to be told by my wife, that I'm going to fail."

She rose to her feet as well, covering the distance between them. She placed both her hands on his chest. "I would never think that of you, Race. I do not think you will fail. But you are here, drinking yourself to sleep, and so early in the morning. You look like a mess, and the warmth of your skin is not a good sign. Perhaps you are sick?"

"I am fine." He sighed, leaning down to kiss her briefly. "I only wish you would believe in me. Trust me enough to make things right, without suggesting I would fail, by advising me to run off to Bath."

Bianca did not argue. Certainly, Race would not see reason if she tried to speak with him, but she thought there was one person who could convince him.

After breakfast that morning, Bianca told Race she was going to the supply shop. It would be good for her, she lied, complaining of how sick she was of staying trapped in the estate. But the second she was settled in the carriage, she gave the footman a different address.

Once settled in the carriage, Bianca leaned back against her seat, nervous he would see her. She was after all showing up in his estate unannounced.

The carriage began to slow down, and she pushed the curtain aside just as the grand compound of the Marquess began to come into view. It was the biggest portion of land in all of Camden. The white three-story building stood in the midst of finely trimmed lawn.

Bianca waited until the carriage doors were opened, before taking the footman's hand, and climbing down. She handed her card to an aging woman she assumed was the Marquess' charwoman, and stated her reason for visiting; she was here to see to Marquess for business involving his brother.

She was ushered into the drawing room of the building, a large painting of the Marquess occupying one part of the wall, and another, of the baroness, right next to him. A bold move by the Marquess, she thought, settling on the gray settee. A bold move that would most likely feel like a slap on the rest of England's face once they enter this wonderful drawing room, and are subjected to viewing the portrait of a once peasant woman who was smiled upon by fate the second she landed the heart of the Marquess. Bianca also imagined that the Marquess' decision to have a painting of a woman grace his wall, meant he was most likely married to her now. She smiled at the thought; it was indeed a dreadful slap on England's high society.

"My lady."

Her head snapped up the second Camden's voice boomed in the room.

Springing to her feet, she curtsied. "Your lordship."

"Please my lady, sit." His gray eyes watched her with a slight frown creasing his face as she settled on the settee once more.

He entered the room, his long legs covering the distance between them with two long strides. He placed himself on an arm chair next to her. "Would you like something to drink?"

She shook her head. "May I ask about the baroness?"

"Now the marchioness." He confirmed Bianca's suspicions; they were indeed married. "A little unwell this afternoon. She is incapable of having visitors right now, my lady."

"You married her?"

He nodded. "Months ago."

Bianca smiled. "Congratulations, my lord. I have met the bar—" She shook her head. "The Marchioness, and I must say what a pleasant woman you have married."

A smile curved Camden's lips. "I believe you are one of the few people who have taken to Bea. The others find her dreadful."

Bianca smiled. "Their opinion mean nothing. It is a fact I am trying to make Race see, the ton's opinion mean nothing, but he is bent on quite frankly, killing himself."

Camden's smile was immediately replaced by a frown. "What is this you speak of?"

Bianca sighed. "I believe my father's business is suffering under Race's care. He will not admit to it, but Race is not a business man. I cannot make him see reason, my lord. Perhaps I must ask that you speak to him?"

"Do you believe he shall listen to me?"

"I certainly hope so, you are the only option I have left."

Bianca left the Marquess' estate the second she had gotten him to promise to speak with Race.

The next morning, she was nursing a headache, when she heard a carriage pull to a halt downstairs. She walked over to the window, and pushed the curtains aside, heaving a loud sigh of relief the second her eyes came to rest of the Marquess' coat of arm on his carriage.

She hoped he would get through to Race, but as she sat on the settee by the fireplace with her headache mounting, she imagined he might not. And if Race did not listen to the Marquess, then there was nothing else she could do.

Leaning back, she rested her aching head on the chair and closed her eyes. Perhaps it was time to see a physician? She thought her feeling of sickness lately could be as a result of her speculation that she was pregnant. A physician would most likely be able to tell her what was wrong.

It was an hour later, before Bianca woke up, and dragged her weary body down the stairs. She imagined Race was starting to get worried she wasn't coming down for breakfast, but when she got to the dining room, she once again found it empty. Imagining he had fallen asleep in his study like the day before, she made her way there, pulling to a halt by the door the second she began to hear angry male voices within.

"It was your father's property, Noah, not mine! The old bastard left me with nothing but a ruined reputation, and life. I will not move back to Bath simply because Bianca has managed to convince you that I need to. I'm not failing, I'm doing just fine!" She heard something shatter, her body jerking back in fear.

"Fine?! You are drunk! You are on your third bottle and it's not even midday! And father? Yes, Race, he made a mistake by leaving you nothing, but I gave you that manor in Bath because I truly believed you deserve it."

"Why?! Because you pity me? I do not need your pity, Noah! You, and the rest of the godforsaken ton! You are asking me to walk away so that you can join them in their mockery of me! What, did a bastard honestly think he could run the affairs of a duke?!" Race's laughter drifted to her.

"Do you know what I think, Race?" Camden sounded annoyed. "I think there is more to all of this, to your anger. Why are you so angry?!"

"Damn it, Noah, leave me be! Go home to your whore of a wife!"

There was a loud cracking sound, and a groan. Bianca pushed the door open then, her eyes immediately coming to rest of the Marquess leaning down over something, with his hand poised in the air, and his fingers curled into fists.

Bianca's eyelids grew several notches the second her eyes shifted to the floor to find Race seated there, with his bloody hand cupped over his nose.

"Race!" It was a small whisper, and while her head hurt and her legs felt like jelly, she covered the distance between them and went to her knees beside him.

"That is the last time I will stand for you, or anyone else," Camden roared, his eyes blazing with fury. "to disrespect my wife." He clenched his jaw, and straightened, before storming out of the room.

Bianca turned her attention back to Race. She reached for his hand that now had blood slipping through his fingers, and dripping to his white shirt.

"Race."

He shrugged her off, and struggled to his feet.

"Race!" She scrambled to her feet as well, her head spinning. She suddenly felt like vomiting.

"If you thought speaking to Camden would change my mind, Bianca, I can assure you that you only succeeded in making things worse."

"Race, I'm trying to help. This is pointless. We need to leave before it gets worse, before we go bankrupt." She touched her head in a failed attempt to ease her headache.

"I don't need your help, Bianca!" He whirled around then, and began making his way to the door.

Bianca wanted to go after him, but her legs felt like steel. She thought to call him back, but her lips wouldn't part. Her heart pounded dangerously in her chest, and her lungs seemed unwilling to accept oxygen. Her vision clouded, and her knees weakened, giving way beneath her. She however did not feel her body make contact with the wooden floors, she instead felt strong arms take a hold of her body, and pull her against his chest.