Race Belington loved his brother.
Mothered by a whore, Race had lived a life different from the one Noah enjoyed. He was forced to go into hiding from a society who scorned and loathed him for his illegitimacy, until Noah showed up at the pub one day, rescuing Race from drunkenness and choosing to share the inheritance left by the dead marquess with him.
Noah was a kind man, and it was Race's love for him that triggered a violent instinct in his chest to protect his brother from the devices of the wench who sought to seduce him and steal from him.
He glared at Lady Atkins, oddly seeing a resemblance with his mother. Perhaps Lady Atkins did not possess his mother's lovely features, but like his mother, she was a whore. He knew women like her; women whose interests laid only in a man's title and pockets. Their desperation for money saw them following despicable courses, caring nought for the damage their shameful ways caused, bringing children into the world who would live the rest of their lives paying the price for their mother's foolishness.
"What is she doing here?" Anger laced every word as he pinned Lady Atkins to the spot with his fiery gaze, nauseated by the memory of the kiss he had witnessed between her and Noah.
"Race... You shouldn't be here." Noah's words were nearly laughable.
Annoyed, Race turned to him. "You shouldn't kiss her!" he half yelled, and Noah hesitated, embarrassment brightening his face. It was clear to Race that Noah had hoped Race hadn't witnessed the kiss.
"What if a servant had walked in on you two?"
Releasing a loud sigh, Noah crossed the room, his heavy boots pounding the wooden floors as he mounted the stairs to where Race stood.
"You shall not humiliate Lady Atkins like this," Noah whispered sharply, clasping Race's shoulder. "If we must discuss this, we shall do so upstairs in my study, alone." He made to turn Race around, but Race shrugged him off.
"Surely, Lady Atkins here must lack shame," he said, loud enough for Lady Atkins to hear. "For it is only a woman devoid of shame who would willingly sought pleasure in the bed of her dead husband's cousin!"
Anger flashed in Noah's eyes. He opened his mouth as if to defend Lady Atkins, but her next words stopped him:
"And it is only a man devoid of proper manners who would insult a woman to her face."
"This is no insult, my lady, I am simply stating a fact."
"And what, might I ask, is this?" She cocked her head, openly mocking him.
He stepped forward, clenching his teeth as he gripped the railing. "You, my lady, are a whore!"
Noah winced sharply beside him, grabbing his wrist to stop him. But Race couldn't stop, not when the woman before him was insistent on challenging him to his face, unblinking and seemingly unaffected by his words.
A loud silence settled in the room for several seconds. Noah still clung to Race's wrist, silently commanding him to leave the room.
"Such a strong opinion of a woman you know nothing about. Have we met, my lord? I'm certain I don't know who you are." she said, breaking the silence.
"My identity is of little relevance in the matter of your seduction of my brother."
"Brother?" She turned to stare at Camden before turning back to him. "I do not see a resemblance, nor has Lord Camden ever spoken of you. I don't believe I saw your portrait lining the walls of the hall, nor have I ever come across you in one of London's lousy balls," she said coolly.
Anger rippled through Race's veins so fast he clenched his fists, afraid he would break something.
"You shall not stand there and mock my illegitimacy!" he roared. "I am in possession of much more dignity than you shall ever possess!" he barked, and a coy smile settled on her face as she leaned back against her seat, visibly satisfied. It was a trap! She had trapped him into admitting he was a bastard.
"That is enough, Race!" Noah shoved him back, his head slamming painfully against the wall. Yet Race barely felt the pain past his anger. "Get out, right now!" Noah growled.
"You wish to throw me out?! For God's sake, Noah, the wench is the one you must get rid of!" His words were quickly followed by more pain in his skull as Noah shoved him against the wall once more.
"Ah, but did you not hear?" Lady Atkins taunted him. "My dead husband bequeathed me to Lord Camden. Perhaps it is appropriate to say I belong to him."
Noah's hold weakened around Race's wrist as he jerked his head back to glance down at Lady Atkins. Race saw the anger dissipate from Noah's face, his lips tipping upward in a slight smile; it was apparent that he found pleasure in the idea of Lady Atkins belonging to him. For heaven's sake! The wench had obviously bewitched his brother!
"I also heard you killed your husband to gain control of his estate and now, you wish to do the same to my brother!" Race yelled in response, causing Noah to turn to him, anger burning in his eyes.
"You shall return to Bath this minute—"
Noah's words were quickly interrupted by a loud thud that stunned the two brothers. Race turned in time to see a book slicing through the air, barely falling to the floor before yet another book followed. The wench was throwing books at him!
He ducked, just as yet another book hit the wall behind him. Noah wasn't so lucky, and in a flash, the case binding of a book landed squarely on his forehead, between his eyes. He lost his footing, and it sent him tumbling down the stairs.
Race let out a sharp breath, hurrying after his brother, who was now lying at the foot of the stairs.
The flying object ceased in that moment, and as Race hurried down the stairs to his brother's side, he glimpsed Lady Atkins hurrying in the same direction. She reached Noah and fell to her knees before him.
"Noah!" she screeched, clutching his shoulders, examining him for injuries.
"Get away from him!" Race swatted her hands off of Noah before turning to examine Noah himself.
"I am fine!" Noah said gruffly, a wince following his words as he sat upright.
"I shall help you to your chambers."
Race helped Noah to his feet and led him back up the stairs to his chambers. He heard Lady Atkins following behind, her heavy footsteps trailing their movements. It sounded to him like she was limping, but he didn't care; Race cared for nothing but Noah's safety. The vile woman had been around for only a few weeks, and in that short period, she had caused Noah to fall down a flight of stairs. God only knew the damage she would cause if her presence was tolerated for much longer.
"I am well," Noah protested, once he was lying in bed with several maids hurrying about the room, ensuring he was properly cared for.
Race glanced at Lady Atkins, who remained glued to her position by Camden's bedside, clutching his hand like it was the most natural thing to do.
Irritated, Race nodded. "Once you have rested, you shall feel better. We will leave you to rest."
"I shall remain," Lady Atkins said quietly.
"It is inappropriate, and he doesn't—"
"Let her, Race," Noah said, silencing him. "Besides, I shall need the care and the company."
Race thought to argue, unwilling to leave his brother alone with a woman who was proven to be vicious. But he thought against it, deciding it was best to let Noah rest. He would deal with Lady Atkins later, privately and alone.
Race would ensure that the next time he sees Lady Atkins would be the last.
*
"I nearly killed you," Beatrice mumbled. Her pride and determination to win a silly argument with Noah's vile brother had nearly cost Noah his life. It was Race's cruel words that triggered Beatrice's memory, reminding her of a conversation she witnessed between the two brothers while she laid on her sickbed. In it, Race had referred to his illegitimacy, and determined to confirm her suspicion, Beatrice had led him straight into her trap.
But Race was stubborn, perhaps even more so than Beatrice. And unwilling to back down, he crossed a line when he accused her of killing her husband and desiring to do the same to Noah. It was then Beatrice reached for the closest thing to her and hurled it across the room at him.
Fuelled by her rage, she continued her attack of hurling several books at Race until one missed its target and knocked Noah off the stairs.
"I can think of worse things you've done, my lady." Noah grinned, raising her hand to his lips and kissing her white knuckles.
She smiled for the first time that day. Lowering her head, she brushed his cheek and stared into his eyes, remembering what it had felt like to watch him tumble down those stairs; it was like a blow to her torso, one that knocked the air out of her lungs and stopped her heart. An overwhelming feeling of fear at the very thought of losing him had urged her forward until she was falling to her knees before him.
Tears stumbled down her cheeks as she clutched his hand, fearing once again that she might lose him. She wondered how one could lose something they never possessed—how she could lose Camden when she never had him, when she was forbidden from ever having him.
But it was in that moment, as his fingers swept her tears off of her cheeks and his lips touched hers, that Beatrice realized she wanted Camden.
"Do not cry, my dear," he whispered, his gaze softening as he cupped her face. "It is not your fault."
"I threw the book that nearly killed you."
"Hardly. Mr. Belington provoked you; he shouldn't have."
"Oh Noah, you must forgive me!" Beatrice cried. It was her fault, and try as she did to get rid of the guilt, she couldn't.
He took her hand, silently urging her forward until she was settling beside him on the bed, and losing sight of the demands of propriety. A moment ago, she had nearly lost him. Propriety be damned. All she wanted was to be in his arms.
He wrapped his arms around her, and placing her head on his chest, she closed her eyes and listened to his strong heartbeat.
"There is nothing to forgive." It was the last words he spoke before silence settled over the room. Beatrice reveled in the upward and downward movement of his hand as he stroked her arm. She reveled in his warmth and the feeling of safety his presence provided. His arms shielded her, and in that moment, as she laid with him, she nearly felt like her broken pieces were finally being put back together again.
The hours that passed by brought with them peace; peace unlike anything Beatrice had ever experienced. She was so starved of peace; she didn't want to let go of Noah; she wanted nothing but to lie here with him forever and drown in this peace.
Noah was loath to release her as well, and leaning his chin against her head, he fell asleep. Beatrice listened to his soft snores serenade her, luring her to sleep.
Fear woke Beatrice up the next morning—fear of being caught lying in bed with Noah, fear of dragging his reputation through the mud to satisfy her own selfish desires.
Reluctantly, she slipped out of bed, heaving a soft sigh of relief when she glanced out the window and found it was still dark. If she left now, she might slip into her room unnoticed.
She exited his bedchamber quickly, turning briefly to close the door quietly.
"Your presence here is anything but appropriate."
Gasping, Beatrice jumped, her fright causing her to bump her head on the door.
Race stood shrouded by the dim light, both hands buried in his pockets as he stared at her. Even in the darkness, Beatrice felt the hatred in his gaze.
She released a shaky breath, straightening. "I don't believe it is up to you to decide." She made to walk past him, but he clawed her wrist, stopping her.
"Surely you're not entirely selfish! If you must care anything for Noah, you must leave this place!"
"Unhand me!" She struggled to be released, but he simply tightened his grip on her.
"He is my brother, one I'm determined to protect. I shall not let you ruin him like you ruined Lord Atkins! Do not think I haven't heard of your deeds, Lady Atkins. Do not think it is unknown who you are; how the daughter of a peasant deceived a noble lord into marriage."
Leaning forward, Beatrice stood on tiptoes to match Race's stance. With captivating blue eyes and curly brown hair that fell to his forehead, framing his chiseled face, Race Belington was exceedingly handsome—far more handsome than his half brother, Noah. Beatrice thought Race possessed his mother's features, for surely only a woman with a lovely face could steal the attention of a marquess.
"Perhaps I was born a peasant, but marriage has made me a noble." She held his gaze. "It is unfortunate that the same cannot be said about you. Not that I need to point out the obvious, Mr. Belington, but no matter what you do, and who you are married to, you will always be an unwanted bastard."
Pain darkened his gaze as Beatrice jerked her hand, freeing herself from his grip. Turning from him, she returned to her room, furious.
Copyright © 2021 Lily Orevba All rights reserved.