Meant to Bea

CHAPTER NINE

"I am saying you are free to do whatever it is that pleases you..."

Race let out a small sigh, his hand slipping up the side of Lady Carla's neck.

"You are asking me to have mistresses?"

Lady Carla moaned, her body pressing further into his, her fingers curling around his shirt.

"Use your freedom however you wish, Mr. Belington."

She gave him permission, he thought, tipping Lady Carla's head back as their kiss deepened. He wasn't wrong for giving in to the temptation of Lady Carla for his own wife made it very clear she wasn't going to yield her body to him anymore. And he was a man. He was flesh and blood, with a perfectly functioning body that required a woman's presence.

Still, a part of him protested his actions. Bedding Lady Carla would be a slap on Bianca's face. It would be a scandal none of them might be able to recover from. But so much more than the scandal, was the fact that Race did not want to be his father. He did not want to bring a bastard -like himself- into the world.

Reluctantly, he took hold of Lady Carla's hands that were clutching his shirt, and gently pushed her back.

"Mr. Belington?" She gasped, blushing.

He stared at her, his skin crawling with desire at the sight of her. Indeed she was beautiful, even more so than her sister. And kissing her, while it had been wrong, had felt wonderful. Her lips were warm and succulent, making it nearly impossible to turn away. Her ample bosom pressed to his chest, made him stir with desire. And her thin waist in his arms, made him want to do nothing more than pull her further against himself and derive pleasure from her.

But common sense and decency stopped him. And rather than carry her in his arms and to his bed, he turned from her and made his way up the stairs.

Race did his best to avoid Lady Carla after that. He kept the conversation between them short and polite, and kept himself busy in the study trying to sort out Lord Sterling's account before his death. He didn't see Lady Bianca either -not that he was surprised, for Lady Bianca had been actively avoiding him since their marriage.

There was a knock on the door, one he recognized belonged to Lord Sterling's -now his- butler. The tall, lanky man with salt and pepper hair, was always so formal around Race. He kept his head bowed most of the time and never made eye contact. But he was always present whenever Race needed him to be.

"Enter."

True enough, the butler pushed the heavy, wooden door open.

"Sir," He bowed to the waist, before straightening.

"Come right in, Francis." Race motioned with his hand, and the butler obeyed.

"Lord Bleiz, the Marquess of Camden has come calling." He offered Race the card.

Race nodded, somewhat eager to see his half brother. It had been a while since he saw Noah, and while he thought of paying Noah a visit, he was loath to run into Lady Atkins.

"Show him to my study."

"Very well, Sir." Francis dipped his head, and turned to leave the room.

It was only a matter of a few minutes before Noah appeared at the door, a wide smile curving his lips. Race stared at his brother, the older gentleman reminding him of their father. His brown hair was cut lower than Race remembered. He was clad in a white, starched shirt, with a tail coat worn over it. His cravat was tied to perfection, most likely the handiwork of a valet... Or a woman...