“Blood?”

Noah turned sharply to the side to find Beatrice standing by the door to his study, a slight frown creasing her face.

She folded her arms. “Leave us.” She spoke to his valet, but her eyes never left him.

The valet released his hold on his wrist and, placing the bottle of whiskey on the table, rose to his feet. “Yes, my lady.” He bowed to the waist, and began making his way across the room. Once he reached where Beatrice stood, she tore her eyes off of Noah long enough to retrieve the towel that hung loosely from the arm of the valet, before turning her attention back to Noah. She waited until the door was firmly shut behind her, before covering the distance between them, and placing herself on the desk before him.

Without a word, she took his wrist captive, her face contorting in horror the second she caught a glimpse of his bloody knuckles.

“You should be asleep.” He murmured, feeling somewhat ashamed about his present state. He should not have returned home immediately after his fight with Race, but should have instead gone to the physician to have his wound cleaned.

“And you should be in bed beside me.” He heard the disapproval in her voice, and immediately knew she had an idea of what it was that had transpired between him and Race that morning. He especially knew she was not pleased —with him.

Well, he was not apologetic for what happened. He would punch his brother —and any other person for that matter who was stupid enough to disrespect his wife before him— in the face for however long it would take him to never speak ill of his wife again.

Still, the look on her face filled him with remorse. He did not mean to upset, or displease her, he meant to protect her.

Withdrawing his hand from her, she lifted her head up, her frown having deepened.

“I do not apologize for hitting him,” He murmured.

Letting out a soft sigh, she leaned back slightly, so that her bulging stomach became visible. “You do not always have to be so foolhardy, Noah. Now, Race shall blame me for coming in-between you two, even if I was not physically present.”

“He spoke ill of you.” He rose to his feet, and settled on the desk beside her. She turned slightly to face him. “Shall I sit back and listen to people disrespect you?” He whispered softly, placing his hand against the side of her face. “Or shall I wedge a sword into their bellies?”

“You shall not get into fights with your brother on my behalf.” She pushed his hand away. “I already have all of England holding me responsible for Oliver's death, I shall not have you murdering someone anytime soon, and bearing the burden of that death on my shoulders.”

Noah would have argued if he did not think Beatrice was tired. She had barely slept through the night, and he did not wish to exhaust her further with talks about his misunderstanding with Race.

Sighing, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. When he tried to lean back, her hand pressed to the side of his face, stopped him. He stared at her, thinking just how much he loved her. He was uncertain there was anything he would not do to protect her. He was uncertain there was anything he would not do to please her —even if it meant apologizing for a fight he did not regret.

“Forgive me.”

She shook her head. “Do not think it not your place to protect me, for I am your wife. But perhaps there are fights you must learn to walk away from?” When he did not respond, she searched his eyes. “For me, Noah? There are fights you cannot walk away from, but there are others you must walk away from. You must learn to know the difference.”

“You wish for me to beg his forgiveness?”

She sighed softly, leaning forward until she was brushing her lips against his. He glided his hand up her shoulder and drew her further against himself, tilting his head to the side so that their kiss deepened. His heart still fluttered every time they kissed, just like it had done the first time they kissed in Lord Stephen's home.

A small smile pulled at the edges of his lips at the memory. He remembered walking into that parlor to find Beatrice on a couch with Lord Curtis on top of her. He remembered how overcome with jealousy he had been. Unfortunately for him, Beatrice had noticed as well. After kicking Lord Curtis out of the room, and turning his rage on Beatrice, he had no idea why he had kissed her after that. And even though they had been caught by the entire London kissing and she had been shamed for it, he never regretted his decision to kiss her... Or marry her.

Slowly, he ran his fingers across her jaw, and gently nibbled on her upper lip.

After a short while, she pulled away, her eyes fixed on him.

“I wish for you to offer your forgiveness, when he asks for it.” She whispered softly.

*

Beatrice's words rang in Noah's ears as he sat with his legs crossed across from Race in the drawing room. But for Beatrice, he would not have allowed his brother into the building. But for Beatrice, he certainly would not be here, entertaining his brother's presence. Noah was incapable of doing anything but pleasing his wife, and whether he liked it or not, sitting here before his brother, was one of the things that pleased his wife.

“I would offer you scotch,” He began, “but it is too early for that. Have you had breakfast? Would you like to eat something?”

Race shook his head. “I am quite full, Noah, thank you. I- I um... I must apologize.”

He rose a brow, still fully annoyed, but knowing he had to give Race the chance to apologize. No doubt, his brother's coming to his right senses was due to his wife, Lady Bianca. It was obvious to Noah that both men would have remained feuding if their wives had not stepped in.

“To you, and her ladyship.” He swallowed, glancing down briefly. “Forgive me, Noah, I am afraid my foul mouth pushed me too far this time. I should not have disrespected you, or your wife.”

Noah sat still for several seconds, before rising to his feet, deciding he needed scotch —early or not. He walked over to the mantle and poured two glasses for himself and Race, before walking back to Race, who accepted the glass with a nod of his head. He settled on his seat once more, and emptied the glass.

“Very well, Race.” He sighed, feeling somewhat better. “We shall put this behind us once we have concluded that you must never speak ill of Beatrice again, or I shall not hesitate to run my fists through your guts, and I fully mean this as a threat.”

He watched Race, whose face crumbled into a frown. Glancing down to stare at the liquid in his glass, he tilted his head back, and emptied his glass. Smacking his lips together, he nodded to Noah's words. “Fair enough.”

“Good.” Noah rose to his feet. “More scotch?”

Race shook his head. “Bianca will be displeased if I get drunk.”

Noah shrugged, and took Race's cup. “So will Beatrice.” He walked over to the mantle and placed the cups on top.

“I must beg one more thing of you, Noah.” When he turned around, Race was on his feet.

“Go ahead.”

He glanced down. “I must beg your help in offsetting the Duke's debts. I do not, for the life of me, know how to go about it.”

“You need some money?”

Race lifted his head, defeat glistening in his eyes. He nodded. “I need a lot of money.”

*

The second Beatrice settled into Noah's bed, his arms curled around her, drawing her form further back, until she was curving slightly to fit into him. He kissed her neck, and nuzzled her ear. “Thank you for coming here tonight.” He whispered, his hold around her tightening.

She giggled. “I got lonely in my bedchamber.”

“You are always welcome here.” His warm lips pressed against the side of her neck once more, a soft sigh of satisfaction escaping her lips.

She touched his hand that was pressed to her bulging stomach. “What did Mr. Belington come to discuss?”

“And here I was, thinking you came here because you wanted to seduce me tonight.”

She blushed, unsure of why his teasing still made her feel like a new bride on her wedding night.

“I shall tell you,” He continued. “But only if you promise to seduce me soon after.”

“Perhaps my motive for coming here was strictly Mr. Belington?” She grinned, thankful she had her back to him and he could not see her face.

“Then I shall seduce you myself.” He kissed her neck, gently pushing her backward until she was lying on her back —a position she found quite uncomfortable since she got pregnant.

When his lips settled on hers, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed herself to a sitting position, before pulling away.

“Tell me?” She ignored the disappointed look in his eyes.

“Very well.” He settled beside her. “He wants me to help him with his debts... Actually, the duke's debts. It is a lot of money.”

“Do you have the capacity to cover them? I did not know the duke was in debt.”

“Me neither. As to whether I can help? I told Race I would have my accountant look into the duke's records. Perhaps I can have some of the people he owes agree to cancel the debt? There are a few Lords I am in business with, a few monies I am owed. If I find that the duke owes any of them, I can force them to cancel his debt in exchange for the cancellation of theirs. I might be able to help, but I am unsure of the extent to which I can help.”

She frowned, confused, and surprised by the new information. If the duke was in debt, then it certainly meant that Mr. Belington inherited his debts. Perhaps it explained why he was allowed to inherit what was left of the duke's estate? She could not put it past people of the ton to be so cruel. It was the same reason she loathed having to socialize with them. She understood what it felt like to be used for one's own selfish gains, and treated like nothing but dirt. She understood what it felt like to be left with no other choice, but to fall to your knees and beg for help. Like Mr. Belington, she too had come to Noah when she needed help, and like he had helped her, Noah was willing to help Race as well. How lucky... No, she shook her head, blessed. She was blessed to have met Noah, and even more than that, she was blessed to be his wife. She might have been unfortunate enough to marry the wrong man the first time, but this time, she knew marrying Noah was the best decision she ever made for he was a good man, a really good man —she thought, leaning over to the side and kissing him full on the lips.

He responded hungrily to her kiss, drawing her forward, even as his hand slid up her neck, and to her hair.

He kissed her, his fingers combing through her hair, removing every single pin that held it in place until it was tumbling to her shoulders. His lips detached from hers, and slid up her cheek, to her ear. “Admit it sweetheart,” He whispered breathlessly against her ear. “You came here to seduce me, didn't you?”

She giggled, slipping her hands up his nightshirt, her fingers caressing his bare chest. “Perhaps.”