"Yes, that," Addie said lamely. "How did you know?"

George shrugged. "Well, I wasn't certain. However, I had noticed your morning sickness, your insane appetite, and just a little swelling. And now you've just confirmed it, of course."

Addie closed her eyes with rue.

George laughed, hearty and full. Her eyes flashed open, and she lashed out.

"Is this all a game to you? A joke?" And then it dawned on her. "Have you been avoiding my bed just to see what I would do about..." she pointed to her belly, "this?"

George waved her off in an annoyingly dismissive manner.

"Oh darling, no. A part of me did wonder what you would choose. Would you come to me begging for a night in my bed or would you grace me with the truth? But instead, I've decided to do the opposite of what you accuse me of. Waiting around would have been playing games with you. I came to you because I wish to be straight with you, Adelaide."

"Straight with me?"

"Yes of course. This is mutually beneficial you see."

"Beneficial? So, you're not mad about it?"

"God, no," he said. "Granted that we can come to an arrangement, naturally." He gave her a caustic look that told Addie they would have an arrangement whether she liked it or not. "But first," he added, "tell me why." He spread his arms in an open gesture and settled further back into the chair.

"Why what?"

"Why not come to me right away? Any sensible woman would have made certain to bed her husband immediately so there would be no question of legitimacy."

"I," Addie began but found she had no explanation. At least no reasonable, sensible explanation, so she told the truth.

"I am not a sensible woman."

George made a disappointed face. "Oh, come now Adelaide, that is not it."

She threw her hands up in defeat. "It is. What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to say that you are an utterly sensible woman. A woman who left everyone she trusts, even the man she loves, for the sake of what she believed was right." He paused, seeming to ponder his words. "You're right. Maybe that isn't sensible. But it's sure as hell responsible. And you avoiding my bed is quite the opposite of responsible. So why, Addie?"

Addie sucked in a breath. It had been the first time someone had called her that since her marriage and that realization made her ache. She shook her head.

"You've already stated the reason I can't sleep with you."

"And what is that?" he asked, though Addie knew damn well he knew the answer. And he wouldn't stop until she had said it.

"Because I am in love with another man!" She all but shouted at him. "There. Is that what you wished to hear, husband?"

George smiled his infuriatingly perfect smile.

"Capital. Yes, precisely what I wish to hear. I've no wish to sleep with you either as it turns out. Our relationship may stay strictly platonic. In the bedroom, that is." He gestured around them to her chambers masked in the glow of the firelight that was quickly dimming. "But none shall know but us of course. And that," he pointed to her growing womb, "will never be questioned as being anything other than my child." As he spoke, his eyes grew cold and so did Addie's blood.

"You do not care that it will not be your son or daughter on the throne?"

He shook his head, his friendly attitude reappearing. "Not a whit."

"But—but why?"

He dismissed the question. "I am not like my father."

Addie shook her head. "No, I know you are not."

"Perhaps you think you know," George continued, "but I don't think you understand the extent to which I am unbothered by things that would send my father to an early grave. I do not care about one's royal blood, Adelaide. I do not care about taxes or the laws or international relationships. Well, I suppose I care some about our nation's relationships, because primarily, I care for reputations, Adelaide. England's reputation, as well as the crown's. Mine. Yours."

"George, taxes and laws and blood are things that will make up our reputation."

He waved his hand. "Yes, I know, but I do not truly care. That is what I am saying. The appearances of it are all that really matter, darling."

Addie nodded. She could see what he was saying and how it fit her understanding of him. "Yes, all right," she said, "but I mean to ask why are you so eager to remain...uninvolved? Is there someone else for you as well?" Addie asked, seeking his gaze in earnest. But he only gave a small shake of his head.

"No. I have not succumbed to such folly."

"Then..." Addie propositioned.

George remained pensive for a moment, his gaze moving toward the fire. When he looked back at her, she was stunned into quiet. His gaze was no longer one of amusement or even calculation, but instead captured in it was a torturous plea.

"Let's just say," he finally whispered, "you're not my type."

Addie was momentarily put out before it occurred to her that his insinuation was not a slight to her personal appearance, but rather something more than that. She nodded.

"I understand. I will not say anything, George."

His tone was icy as he responded. "Yes. I know."

Looking at him, she almost questioned the certainty in which he spoke. But she was met with a sharp glare at her belly and was once again drowning in awareness. Yes, of course, she would stay silent. Or else her wanton ways would inevitably be exposed. And she could never risk her baby in that way. It was the only piece of Theo she still had left. Her hand went to her belly in an absentminded gesture.

"Does he know?" George asked.

"No."

"See that he doesn't. I don't want anyone announcing to the world that that baby is not mine. You see, Addie, I do not care that you are with child because it is my child."

With that, he rubbed his hands on his pant legs and stood. One quick bow later and he disappeared into the night, out the door where the glow of the fire didn't reach.

Addie sunk into her own chair, unsure whether to feel relief or despair. Still unresolved, she slid into sleep thinking that her feelings couldn't follow her there.

She was wrong.

****

"His Grace, the Duke of Kingfield to see Lady Emilia."

The butler showed him through Lord Trotten's grand entrance to a receiving room directly to the left.

He took not but seven paces into the room when he heard the shuffle of feet behind him. His mouth was half open in greeting to his sister before it clamped shut upon turning to see Lord Trotten.

"Why Emilia, you've grown since I've last seen you," he said dryly.

"My God, Kingfield. You look dreadful." Trotten gave him a once over, apparently unimpressed with what he found.

"Hm, and considerably lacking in manners as well," Theo added, ignoring Trotten's assessment of his current state, which he knew to be pitiful.

"No," a lilting feminine voice cut in, "I do believe he's spot-on there."

Emilia entered the room, her mass of curls pinned up around her questioning face. She appeared equally unimpressed with him except that her eyes were laced with a concern that had been absent from Trotten's look. She gave him a quick embrace before motioning for them to all sit.

Theo opened his mouth to speak but then paused, glaring at where Trotten sat expectantly.

"Why are you still here? I think we have established that you are not, in fact, my sister, who is the intended recipient of my visit."

Trotten didn't move. "Yes, the visit which is at my house. My house which you just walked in the front door. The house that is supposed to be concealing your sister in plain sight with you miles away."

Theo found himself on the receiving end of Trotten's scowl.

"Fine," he mumbled. "Point taken."

"Oh hush," Emilia said, "All is well. There has not been any retaliation from the crown toward Theo since the wedding, and I doubt there will be at this point."

Trotten surveyed as unconvinced but kept his doubts to himself.

"Theo, dear. You truly do look awful. You should really take some time in the country. Or perhaps to go Bath?" Emilia soothed. She was speaking to him precisely as he had done to her after she'd been left for ruin. There was an instant pang of regret at the way he had dealt with it. Because the last thing Theo wanted was to be out in that manor house filled with memories of his childhood, reminding him of all else he has lost in this life.

Theo and Trotten both shook their heads.

"No," he said.

"Agreed," Trotten put in. " What you need, Kingfield, is a rousing night out. We can go to all the clubs. Whatever you like." He gave him a rare clap on the back in a moment of solidarity. But Theo shuddered at the thought of the stuffy gaming hells with their loud, boasting wastrels and whores. He had tried it the night of the wedding, becoming drunk to the point of darkness. But it had given little reprieve, even though it had used to be his comfort.

"I appreciate the...effort, Trotten, but no. Aren't we supposed to be keeping our distance from each other anyway?"

The other man shrugged.

"Just trying to do my part."

"Not necessary. But thanks."

He shrugged again.

"Theo," Emilia said gently. "Why are you here?"

She was patronizing him again. She had never spoken to him in such a way before. Theo let out a large breath, wishing he could just walk away and let it all go. But, he needed to know. He had to ask, any ridicule from Trotten be damned.

"Have you heard from her?"

Emilia sucked in quickly. It was barely noticeable, but Theo saw it, and it told him all he needed to know. She had. She had heard from her. Hope rose in his chest.

"No." Emilia looked to the side, out the window. Her hands folded in her lap. "I haven't heard anything."

"Emilia," Theo warned.

She fidgeted with her hands and spared a glance at Trotten, but he just rose his hands as if to say, leave me out of this.

She released the breath that she had sucked in a few moments prior. "Yes," she admitted in a rush of air. "I have."

"Tell me," Theo demanded, but Emilia was unrelenting. He glared. "Goddammit, Emilia."

"No," she cut him off. "You don't get to 'Goddammit, Emilia' me, Theo. You did the same thing to me after this one," she jabbed a finger toward the offending viscount, "jilted me. You would tell me that he hadn't been seen in society since our betrothal. That he hadn't attended any of the balls you had as if I wasn't going to sneak around and read the gossip rags that you kept hiding from me." Theo risked a glance at Trotten whose mouth had formed into a firm, thin line. Emilia, on the other hand, didn't waste a second on him, pinning Theo with a look instead. "But it broke me when I found out that his life went on while mine ceased to exist. I won't do that to you."

Theo sighed. "This is different, Emilia."

"How?" she challenged.

"Addie didn't leave me because she wanted to, but because she had to."

Emilia was shaking her head when Trotten broke in.

"So, exactly the same then, as it turns out."

Emilia whipped her head toward him, but he had already spun away, his gaze out that alluring window.

"Tell me, Emilia," Theo all but pleaded. No, he did plead. Absolutely begged. "What did she say?"

Emilia threw up her hands. "Fine. Fine." She stood and left the room in an angry rustle of skirts.

Theo skirted his gaze to the other man. "Smooth one there, Trotten."

The viscount's eyebrows shot up.

"As if you can talk on the matter, Your Grace," he practically sneered. Apparently, their moment of accord was long past.

Theo shrugged, his stomach tightening in anticipation as Emilia bustled back into the room, all but slapping a pile of correspondence on his lap as she did so. Well, he supposed it wasn't exactly a pile. More accurately a few pages, but after no word from Adelaide in weeks, anything from her was like a rich profusion.

Emilia waved her hand at him. "You may keep them if you like."

Theo nodded, tucking the letters into his waistcoat, unwilling to read them in from of any watchful eyes lest he succumbed to a sorrowful display.

"She is attending the upcoming ball that Marchioness Baxley is hosting. The news is that the Marchioness has been boasting for a week now that the prince and his new bride will be attending her ball before all others."

"And the Marquess has done likewise at White's," Trotten added, referring to the gentlemen's club he frequented.

Theo straightened at the news, his mind immediately made up. "You'll need a new gown then, Emilia."

"What?" Emilia gasped.

"Why for the ball of course."

Emilia sputtered. "Are you even invited? I surely am not."

Theo waved her off. "I'm the Duke of Kingfield. I'm invited. And you are my sister, so you are as well."

Two sets of eyes rolled back at him.

"This is a terrible idea," Emilia protested, but Theo thought he saw a smile peeking out the corners of her mouth.

"Agreed," Trotten said. But he did not have any secret smiles. Quite the opposite. A frown etched deep in his face. "It isn't safe."

"Oh posh, Will," Emilia said. "That isn't what I meant. I mean that it is a mistake for you to go see her, Theo."

"Probably," Theo agreed. But he wouldn't be able to stay away if he tried. "Don't worry, Trotten, my sister is right. She is perfectly safe at a ball. She will be by my side the whole time. Except when her suitors approach her to dance, that is. Do not be concerned. She will be home by a respectable time."

The corners of Theo's mouth tugged upward in amusement. Lord Trotten looked murderous. Theo couldn't help but let a chuckle escape, more vigor in him than there had been in days. Weeks, more likely. "What a backward world this is, is it not Trotten?"

But Theo didn't even bother to wait for his response or to check if Trotten was still frowning. He could feel his glare from across the room. "See you tomorrow then, dear sister?"

Emilia beamed her response.