Meant to Bea

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

*This might be a bumpy chapter so tread carefully, avoid/ignore/nicely correct errors made. I'm a lot sleepy, so I'll correct them tomorrow. Also, while you're at it, vote, comment, share, follow? Thank you.*

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Race could barely pay attention to the conversation going on around him. He didn't belong here, with these men of noble birth. He couldn't fit in, no matter how hard he tried. But that wasn't the only reason he could barely pay attention, Bianca was the major reason. His mind kept wandering to her, making it difficult to focus on anything else. When he went through his daily routine, he thought of her, and when he laid in bed every evening, he thought of her. Still, he didn't go to her. He was too upset to go to her.

When the ball finally came to an end, he was glad to climb into the carriage. Carla sat beside him, speaking almost nonstop, but he paid her no mind. He instead nodded, and grunted once in a while to her words.

The carriage came to a halt several minutes later, and he hurried inside where he remained trapped in his study for several hours, trying and failing to get his mind off of Bianca as he worked. But he couldn't. Even as he laid in bed that evening, he could barely do anything but think of her. He desired her.

Turning over to the side, he groaned in frustration and closed his eyes. It was her desire that their marriage be in name only, and he was determined to fulfil that desire, even if it threatened to drive him mad.

He barely slept that evening, and by the next morning, he once again chose to have his breakfast in his bedchamber. He ate every meal in his bedchamber because he was afraid of running into Bianca, and giving into the desires of his flesh once he laid his eyes on her.

A knock sounded on the door, just as he lifted the teacup to his lips. Pausing, he raised his eyes to the door.

“Enter.” He said, before taking a sip of his coffee.

The door was pushed open, and a maid appeared. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide, and the rapid rising and falling of her chest alerted him to the fact that she had been running.

Suddenly panicked by the sight of her, he slowly rose to his feet, anticipating the bad news.

“What has happened?”

“The mistress! She-” She pointed behind her. “She was brought in this morning by a servant of Lord Johnson...”

“What?” He shook his head, confused. He could barely hear a word she spoke through her trembling lips.

“Mrs. Belington was found and brought here, almost lifeless!”

A loud crashing sound followed the maid's announcement, and it was then that Race realised he had been holding the teacup, and had released it as soon as the maid broke the news.

Ignoring the shards of glass on the floor, he hurried out of the room, and down the stairs. He pushed Bianca's door wide open, and hurried to her bedside.

Gasping, his heart stopped at the sight of her.

“Bianca.” He breathed, settling beside her still form on the bed. He reached out with trembling hands, and pulled out a leaf from her hair. When he withdrew his hand, his lungs constricted at the sight of the blood that stained his fingers. “Bianca.” He touched her pale face, willing her to wake up. What happened?!

His hand slipped down her face to her neckline, his eyes moving slowly down her form; from her ripped sleeves, to the dirty hem of her dress.

He could barely force his lips to give the command to his servants to call a Physician, but once the command was given, and the room was emptied out, Race sat still by her side, unable to think past his pounding heart. Fear for her life clouded his mind, but he didn't let it get to him. He couldn't give in to fear, at least not now. Now, he needed a clear mind to think. To think of what to do, to think of a solution, to try to make sense of everything.