Mr. Banks? What is he doing here? Clara wondered.

"I heard Lady Bentley has returned to us and I was hoping to see for myself," Mr. Banks said, craning his neck to see inside the room to catch a glimpse of what exactly remained to be determined.

"Lady Bentley has not been properly introduced into society. I'm uncertain it would be prudent to..."

"Nonsense, Mr. Brummell. She and I are already acquainted from years ago. I was introduced to her by her aunt. You could say, Lady Bentley and I are old friends."

"I could but I wouldn't dare be so bold without the Lady's consent." Mr. Brummell looked back at Clara, who shrugged in response, but Benjamin gave a definitive nod. So, Mr. Brummell let him in.

Clara wished she did not have to endure this intrusion, as she dearly wished to know what Benjamin had to tell her. Now she would have to wait and who knows when such an opportunity would present itself again.

"Ah, Lady Bentley. My, how you've grown. Such a beautiful girl has become such an elegant woman. I'm so glad you have returned."

"Are you?" Clara said with a quizzical lift of her brow. "And why, pray tell, might that be Mr. Banks?"

"You wound me, Lady Bentley. As you had when you ran off to the nunnery. I had hoped to further our acquaintance, surely you were aware of my intentions towards you."

"Yes, such intentions would have caused a scandal had I had left them unchecked. Thankfully, though that was avoided."

"Scandal?" Mr. Banks covered his heart with his hand. "My Lady, you injure me to my core. My intentions were quite noble. In fact, I dare say, you broke my heart all those years ago, running off as you had."

"From the looks of things, it appears you've made a brilliant recovery. None the worse for wear. So, thank you for dropping by but I'm certain it is almost time for the Opera to commence and I do not wish to miss a single second."

"Of course." Mr. Banks picked up Clara's hand and brought it to his lips.

Clara had seen Benjamin rise with murder in his eyes. She quickly rose from her seat to lead Mr. Banks to the door. "It was nice of you to drop by. Perhaps after the Queen's Ball, we might talk some more."

Mr. Brummell opened the door to let Mr. Banks out.

"After the Queen's Ball, but surely there is no need to wait...?"

"Ah, but there is, as until I am properly introduced the Queen wishes me not to engage in parties, dinners, and the like."

"What about a carriage ride?"

Mr. Brummell stood guard at Clara's back. "After the ball, Mr. Banks. You would not have Lady Bentley defy her Majesty and risk her reputation. Especially for a turn about the park?"

"No, of course not. I wouldn't dream of... I just thought," Mr. Banks fumbled as he watched Clara walk away from him. Away from him and straight back to Mr. McAllister who was looking rather smug. So smug Mr. Banks wished he could give him a good thrashing.

"After the ball," Mr. Brummell reiterated.

"But then why is he allowed in her presence?" Mr. Banks demanded to know.

"Mr. McAllister brought Lady Bentley back from India as a liaison to the Queen they are already intimately acquainted. As her guardian, I saw no harm as the Queen is aware of their familiarity and therefore would not be concerned by it."

"But Lady Bentley could vouch for me herself if she saw fit," Mr. Banks complained.

"After the ball," Mr. Brummell said again. "I'm afraid as her guardian I must insist."

"What makes you qualified to be her guardian, anyway? She is of no relation to you."

"No, but I am good friends with her brother, Lord Bentley. He requested me to look after her while he tended to some business. So, there you have it."

The orchestra began warming up and Mr. Brummell took that as his permission to say goodbye to Mr. Banks and took great pleasure in closing the door on him.

"Of all the impertinent. Can you believe the nerve? To come here, to... to?"

"What Benjamin?" Mr. Brummell asked, "Seek a woman's acquaintance he intended to marry. You had seen the ring yourself. You didn't expect that now that Banks knows of Clara's return that he would just slither back under the rock from which he came."

 "Oh no, my friend, he wished to make the first strike and plans to be competition. You will need to do better to keep your calm. Mr. Banks will not be the first suitor Clara will have to entertain, or I dare say the last. Look at her."

 "I've already had several inquiries about her at the club. Once she has had a proper outing, I'm certain they will fill her room with calling cards and flowers."

"I can not bear it! My wife! No, it cannot be," Benjamin interjected.

"We must play this ruse to its proper end. It matters not who wishes to make a play. I already belong to you, heart and soul," Clara soothed.

"I know you are right, Dove. But this ruse may just be the death of me. When Mr. Banks kissed your hand, I swore I would..."

Clara's hand rested on Benjamin's chest. "A hundred suitors can line up at my door. Let them come. No one could turn my head from you, or my heart. So, let them have their say, make their play, their pleas will fall upon deaf ears. Only you matter."

Benjamin covered Clara's hand with his own. He took a deep breath to calm the rage of jealousy he felt. Clara was right, she was his and he need not worry, but how could he not, knowing what he did? He must tell her now before another moment passes.

"Clara I..."

The orchestra came to a full swell, evidence the performance had begun.

"Another time Benjamin. We mustn't be caught lurking in dark corners. We must return to our seats or the wagging tales will begin to gossip and we must protect Clara from such censure."

Benjamin sighed heavily. What he wished to say weighing heavily on his heart. However, Beau was right. Now was not the time. Benjamin smiled at Clara and let go of her hand, allowing Beau to take her back to her seat.

Several times throughout the performance, Benjamin stole a side glance at Clara. Once again, she was swept away by the story that unfolded before her. He envied her freedom to lose herself in the music and song. If only he could do the same, but he could not.

He turned back to the performance. He envied the two lovers who were reunited and the jubilation of every one of their circumstances. If only he were guaranteed such a happy ending. If only he could be so certain of Clara's forgiveness. Yet, in his experience, lies, and deceit only begets heartache and pain. Still, he could not help with the crescendo of the orchestra, to feel his spirits uplift. He must hold on to hope. It was all he had left.

There was no time to talk after the performance. They couldn't linger. Their late return had already had the rumor mill turning. Still, Clara took a moment to kiss Benjamin goodnight. She had to feel Benjamin's lips against her. His breath mingling with her own. Clara needed to breathe him in so she could carry that feeling with her to get her through however long it may be.

"Goodnight, Dove. Until we meet again."

Clara could feel the sting of tears that threatened to spill, but she would not, could not, let them fall. "Until then."

Mr. Brummell took her by the arm and led her back to their carriage. The carriage ride home hadn't any of the gaiety the ride to the theater possessed. Clara broke the silence when she asked, "Do you know what Benjamin wished to say to me?"

Beau knew better than to engage in this line of talk. "Even if I did, it would not be my place to discuss what I know with you. Whatever it is Benjamin wishes to convey is between the two of you."

Clara nodded and went back to staring out the window. Maybe it had to do with the disappearance of the list. Maybe it had to do with the names on it. Or perhaps, he learned from the Queen that she had no intention of letting him go and he was having second thoughts of letting her work with him after her stunt at White's.

Clara just wished she knew what Benjamin wished to say because not knowing was eating away at her. Her writer's mind was too good at coming up with a multitude of scenarios. None of them were good.

Mr. Brummell bid her and Rosalyn a good night and promised to pick them up again in the morning for their daily ride.

"Thank you, Beau. For everything you have done and are doing for Benjamin and me. I'm sorry for my melancholy. I enjoyed the opera, very much and not only because Benjamin was at my side."

"I'm glad to hear it," Mr. Brummell said, "Until tomorrow then?"

"Until tomorrow."

Clara entered the hotel lobby, and the owner handed her the post.

"Thank you!"

The man nodded, and she and Rosalyn retired to their room. Rosalyn helped her undress and turned down the covers of her bed. Clara got dressed in her nightdress and then untied the post.

The first was a letter from Richard. He expected to be finished with his business within the week and was hoping to convince her once again to stay with Annabelle. She would not, of course. She did not wish to impose. Annabelle was busy with her boys and now her daughter.

That, however, was just an excuse. The truth was, it hurt Clara to be around Annabelle, especially the infant, and now that the family has taken over her Aunt's dwelling it was all too much emotionally for Clara to handle. She felt it best to keep her distance.

The next letter of course was from Annabelle requesting yet again they get together for tea, or lunch or anytime, really because she desperately missed her little sister. Annabelle's pleas only made the situation harder. Clara hated hurting Annabelle's feelings.
She knew, however, once together she would be forced to explain her running away and why. Such a conversation would leave her too open and raw. Maybe once she and Benjamin were together again. She'd feel strong enough to face her feelings with him by her side.

Once again, she wondered what had Benjamin looking so concerned. Clara opened the third letter without checking who had sent it, and it stunned her to see the flourishing script of Lord Fitton's hand. She knew instantly it was from him without reading a single word, after so many hours spent transposing his notes.

Clara checked the address. It was from a port close to home. He was on his way back to England. They must meet so she could inform him of her meeting with the Queen. She could not write to him, since she did not know where he might be.

Her heart rejoiced to read that Sturgis had made a full recovery and received a promotion under Redgrave's command. Clara swiped away the tear that fell, fearful it may smear the ink. Then, as she expected, he told her of his studies with the Ayurvedic masters, but how he doubted the King would benefit from anything he had learned. If only they could have gotten to his Majesty sooner, there may have been hope.

Clara figured this was the true reason for his return, since there was no reason to stay. She had finished the letter but then noticed there was an added page.

Dearest Clara,

As I am writing this, something has struck me. I knew I must write to you again before we reach the port. I hope you don't think it too impertinent that I discussed your condition with your doctors in India. They still believed you were my wife, so they sort of volunteered the information.

They explained how they could find nothing physically wrong with you and how you seemed to thrive under their care. They tried to reassure me that should I take it upon myself to continue to try; they had no doubt that you would conceive. It did not sit well with me that the block you have would be completely a mental impasse.

It was then that I remembered the tea we shared the day after your husband's return. Clara, as your friend I feel obliged to tell you I believe it was laced with something. Something that would prevent you from becoming pregnant. I believe it contained Daucus Carota.

Clara instantly knew Lord Fitton was speaking of, Queen's Anne's Lace. She knew this was the tea she would partake in often, but how could a plant stop her from becoming pregnant?

Oh, Clara, how I hope to be wrong in my surmising, but I had confirmed with the masters what I feared to be true. The wildflower cannot prevent conception, fertilization, or abort a child but if used properly it could disrupt a woman's body, making her womb inhospitable. If I am right and I hope for your sake I am not, Benjamin has been using the tea to affect your body not to prevent a potential life, but to remove your ability to become with child.

I know little of how this plant affects the body, but its results seem to be undeniable. The doses to be effective must be taken soon after coupling has occurred and then perhaps another dose 8 hours after the first. 3 doses maximum within 72 hours. It does not work this way for everyone but Clara if Benjamin discovered this to work for you... Oh, Clara. I pray I am wrong. Yet I could not in good conscience keep you uninformed.

Whatever you discover. If you should ever need a friend, I shall be home within a month of you receiving this letter. I am at your beck and call.

Lord Fitton had left her an address where she could reach him. Clara's hand shook as she read the words as a sob escaped her lips. Her other hand covered her mouth to stifle the sound. Rosalyn was asleep, and she did not dare wake the girl.

Benjamin always gave her the same tea after they made love, and when he had to leave her, her servants would bring the tea to her to drink. Whether they knew what Benjamin was doing, she did not know, but now she knew she could trust no one.

Carefully Clara closed the letter and placed it with Lord Fitton's notes in his trunk, where she knew no one would look for it. Her first instinct was to confront Benjamin with these accusations, but she could not go wandering the streets this late at night. She wasn't even sure if he would be home.

No, she would need to wait. Be patient and plan. She would confirm what she already knew to be true, and then she would make him face the facts she'd lay before him. That night as Clara laid her head upon her pillow, her heart shattered as the soft down soaked up the tears that streamed from her eyes.