Meant to Bea

CHAPTER SEVEN

Bianca hissed, pain slicing through her skull and forcing her body to come tumbling back to the bed. After neglecting to eat, and crying for an entire day, she woke up the next morning, weak and hungry.

Moaning in pain, she crawled out of bed and gently eased her body to the floor. Her limbs ached and her vision was clouded with tears, but she needed to find away to drag her body down the stairs in search of some food.

Placing her elbows on the wooden floor, she tried to prop herself up on them, but her elbows were to weak to bear the burden of the weight of her upper body.

After trying for several minutes to force her body forward, she laid chest down on the floor and closed her eyes. She was tired, mentally and physically. Perhaps she was even more tired mentally than she was physically, for her mind was unwilling to propel her body forward.

She blamed herself for being too stubborn to accept Mr. Belington's invitation to breakfast. She blamed Mr. Belington for purposely choosing to wound her with his words. She blamed herself for agreeing to deliver the letter to him. She blamed him for taking advantage of her that evening...

Going back and forth in her mind, she laid the blame at her own feet, and at Mr. Belington's.

Tired eyelids flickered close and she sighed in exhaustion, welcoming the darkness.

***

Race lifted her still body off of the floor and carried her in his arms to the bed. Placing her on her back, he placed the blanket over her and touched her pale cheek.

“Bea?” He patted her cheek lightly, eyes scanning her face. It was obvious from the pink that stained her nose, and the tears now dry on her face, that she had been crying. Perhaps she had cried herself to sleep?

Guilt stabbed at his heart as he pulled her against his chest, pushing her hair off of her neck and to the back.

“Bianca, please wake up.” He whispered against her cheek.

She moaned then, her body stirring in his arms.

“Wha-” She murmured, trying to rise.

He tightened his hold on her, stilling her movement. “Try not to move, Bea.”

She stiffened then, turning slowly to look at him. Her eyelids widened the second her eyes came to rest on him, her lips falling wide open.

“What are you doing here?!” Her face seemed to become paler as she turned sharply from him and lifted the blanket slightly. Gasping, she pulled the blanket over her unclad body, and pushed his hands away.

He watched her scramble to the other side of the bed like he was an epidemic she needed to avoid.

“What have you done, Race?! What did you do to me?!” Her accusing words grated on his nerves, her eyes beholding him in accusation. Did she think him capable of forcing himself on a woman against her will?

His fingers curled into a fist, and he rose to his feet. Without a word, he began making his way out of the room, furious. Perhaps the best he could do was avoid her? For he didn't know what else to do, his very presence always seeming to upset her. She had after all, made it very clear that they were to live as strangers.

Race didn't see Bianca after her outburst that morning and he wasn't sure he wanted to. As the days progressed, he only caught short glimpses of her, most of which were through her bedroom window from his vantage point by the entryway of the stable. They never ate together, but he left meals on the dining table for when she would decide to come down and eat. They might not see eye to eye on anything, but he didn't want her dead on his watch.

Even now as he  raced through his property with his horse, he tried not to think of Lady Bianca or how much she loathed him. Perhaps he had been cruel in the beginning, but his anger hadn't been misplaced. He had indeed felt deceived at the time, and while he didn't expect love to come of their relationship, he didn't think they'd be living as enemies, and avoiding each other all the time.

Perhaps it was best for him to journey to Camden to be with his brother, Noah? Perhaps then Lady Bianca would have some freedom to move about as freely as she wanted?

Shaking his head, he sighed in exhaustion. Leaving her alone in this vast land without aid, would be cruel. Besides, he wasn't sure he was ready to be around Lady Atkins just yet. The woman was unlike any woman of the ton he had ever met, and he didn't mean it in a good way. Still, his brother would insist on keeping her in his home.

His fingers tightened on the reins just as his eyes caught sight of a strange carriage.

Squinting, he stretched his neck and cupped his hand over his brows.

A man, dressed in traveling clothes, and a black hat, stepped out of the carriage and began making his way up the front porch.

Burying his heel on the side of the horse, Race gripped the reins tightly as the animal began galloping toward the house. He pulled it to a halt by the carriage and jumped down, the stranger turning back to look at him.

“Mr. Belington?” He took off his hat, revealing a balding head, as Race approached.

Race nodded. “How may I help you?”

“I am Lord Leeds' solicitor. May I please have a word with you?”

Race eyed him suspiciously, unsure of the Duke's reason for sending his solicitor all the way from Camden. Still, he was curious.

Nodding, he took the last stairs to the porch and pushed the door wide open, ushering the solicitor to the living room.

“How may I help you?” He said, once they were settled on the couch.

“My name is Mr. Rosetown, and I'm afraid I do not bring pleasant news.”

Race frowned. “Is there a problem, Mr. Rosetown?”

He nodded slowly. “Lord and Lady Leeds passed away recently.”

Race felt his frown deepen as his stomach twisted into a painful knot. Running his tongue over his bottom lip, “What happened?”

“An accident, Mr. Belington. The duke and duchess were on their way to their townhouse in London when they got caught in the flood and well...”

Sighing softly, Race glanced down. He could only imagine the grief Bianca would have to endure once the news of her father and step mother's death is broken to her.

He nodded, lifting his eyes up. “Thank you, I will be sure to pass across the information of her parents death to Lady Bianca.” He rose to his feet, feeling light headed.

“I am afraid that isn't all, Mr. Belington.”

Pausing in his tracks, he slowly turned around to find the solicitor watching him.

Instinctively, he ran his fingers through his hair. “What else is there to say, Mr. Rosetown.”

“The Duke of Leeds died without an heir or a will, Mr. Belington. The dukedom cannot pass to his unmarried daughter, Lady Carla, or Lady Bianca.”

Understanding the implications of his words, Race's heartbeat slowed down. “What is this you are trying to say, Mr. Rosetown?”

The solicitor rose to his feet then. “You, Mr. Belington, have by marriage, become Lord Leeds' heir,” He paused, his eyes briefly scanning the room. Race allowed his gaze travel with the solicitor as well. The room, while furnished to Race's satisfaction, would fall short in the eyes of London's elites. The furniture was old, and he was unable to replace them.

But this was his home, and he was appreciative of it. It didn't matter that this stranger looked down his crooked nose on his home.

Seemingly finished with his inspection of the room, he turned his attention back to Race.

“You are to inherit what was once Lord Leeds', all of it. The title shall pass to Lady Bianca's first son, also the duke's grandson, once he is born.”

Copyright © 2018 Lily Orevba All rights reserved.