JANUARY 1812

Caroline was with her mother and the Duchess of Whitton, Trent's mother, inside their parlor in Brierwell. The two ladies were discussing the upcoming union of their children over tea while Caroline mentally cursed Trent for being absent.

She understood that he had to be away. After the rescue of the former Darcy, developments within the Royal Circus were growing. He had resigned as a gentleman in Belcourt, and Caroline had hoped he would have more time. Oh, how wrong she was.

Trent was given more tasks and missions; not dangerous ones, he said, but it required attention and time. He often complained, but she sensed he enjoyed it.

The holidays had passed, and she barely had enough time to spend with him. Their mothers were always around, dragging Caroline from shop to shop if Trent would visit. And if they were both free, her father would demand Trent's time in his study and God only knew what they talked about.

Caroline stared at her nails. If she was still in Belcourt as a Belle, she would already be out in Coulway, following other Belles around. Or if not, she may be in a villa sharing tea and gossips with Ruby and the others. Her boring life had resumed; the thrill and mystery of Belcourt a mere thing of the past.

When the door burst open and Jamie, Trent's younger brother, rushed in, Caroline's face fell.

"Mind yourself, Jamie," the Duchess of Whitton absently said, frowning down at two laces that looked exactly the same to Caroline, but apparently not for the two mothers. "That is not how we open doors."

"Sorry," Jamie murmured, making his way toward Caroline. He seemed rather anxious as he bent down and whispered, "I need your help."

"Why?" she asked. "Is it Camila?"

Jamie nodded. Then, with his eyes, he motioned toward the mothers. It was a secret.

"Excuse us for a moment," Caroline said, jumping to her feet. She was only happy to escape the parlor.

"Come back soon, darling," her mother said. "We still have to choose the paper for the ball invitations."

As soon as the door closed behind them, Jamie turned to her stiffly and in a rush said, "Camila had an accident."

"What!" she cried out, eyes wide open.

"Hush," said Jamie. "She does not want the mothers to know. She believes it is nothing serious. But I think it is. She cannot walk. But there is no blood though, and mayhap not fatal."

"Where is she?"

Jamie cleared his throat. He wiped the sweat off his temple. "At the cabin."

"What!" Caroline hissed. "You are not permitted to go to the cabin!"

"It is safe. There are guards all over the place. And workers are everywhere, doing work for the ball."

"Still!" She stole the parlor door a glance. Their mothers would go berserk. "How did it happen?"

"I'll explain on the way. I've already arranged a carriage so we can carry her back home."

"Oh, you fools!" Caroline growled. "Whyever would you go to the cabin! You never go there!"

"We thought it a good idea to venture outside."

Caroline glared at her future brother-in-law. "The two of you were never fit for an adventure outside." She rushed to the hall and out the front doors where a carriage was already waiting for her. Soon, they were on their way to the cabin. "How did it happen?"

Jamie cleared his throat again and would not meet her eyes. "I will let Camila do the explaining."

Caroline tried to calm herself. She closed her hands, then opened them to stop herself from reaching out and strangling the boy calmly sitting in front of her. "You will someday marry my sister, Jamie. I hope that you do not tolerate her whims in the future."

Jamie looked at her. "Like how Trent tolerates yours?"

She stiffened. "Trent and I have a deeper understanding."

"Camila and I have the same."

"No, you do not."

"Yes, we do."

She sighed. "Fine. I hope you work on it further. Know each other's limitations."

"We do."

Caroline sighed. "Very well, you do. Still, I hope that you can protect her more in the future. It is winter. Anything can happen."

"I will. It is not snowing."

"Snow or not, we do not know when a blizzard may strike." Trent had told their mothers the same thing when they planned for a winter wedding, but Caroline had to stop him because they must wed soon because she could not simply wait. She cleared her throat, then shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "And I hope that you will love her. And that she will feel the same."

Jamie only blinked at her in confusion.

"And in the future, should either of you feel that you cannot marry the other, I hope that you will not think of the betrothal. Think of each other's happiness. Will you do that for me, Jamie?"

"You mean Camila may love another man apart from me?"

"Or you may fall for someone else entirely."

"I do not see that happening."

She smiled. "Still, I hope that you remember that you will always have my support and that of Trent's should you decide to follow your heart in the future. And if your hearts tell you to be together, then we will celebrate with you. If it is the opposite, we will fight the parents with you."

Jamie frowned at her but nodded.

When they reached the cabin later, Caroline jumped out of the carriage with Jamie.

"She is at the tombstone," said her the boy.

"She didn't go inside?"

"She says the cabin is too drafty."

Rolling her eyes, Caroline proceeded to her daughter's tombstone.

But she did not find Camila there.

Trent, on the other hand, was standing by the tree, grinning like a fool. Her sister, she realized, was sitting on a bench not far away, completely fine.

"What is this, Trent?" she asked, slowly making her way toward him. Then she scoffed when he went on one knee. "Good Lord, are you proposing?"

"He is," Jamie whispered as he walked past her to join Camila on the bench.

Caroline laughed. "You fool, we are getting married. You do not have to—"

"Allow me," he said, showing her a ring. "I was thinking of a necklace, but I know you lose them now and then. A ring, I believe, is reasonably less prone to be misplaced. And it is cheaper."

A snort escaped her.

"Our parents deprived us of the courtship, so I figured I should at least propose."

Her eyes watered. "You are making me cry."

"I intended to do that," he grinned up at her. "Caroline Comhar, will you marry me?"

She could have teased him and said she was having second thoughts, but she knew that he would not believe her, so she nodded and said, "Yes."

He stood and took her hands in his, and gave her a kiss. His forehead against hers, he bent and slipped the ring onto her finger. It was a simple gold band with small diamonds encrusted on it—unassuming, but filled with intentions. "I love you," he whispered to her. "I asked Philippa if she agrees and I believe she does."

Caroline chuckled and sniffed in tears.

"You are my best friend, my partner in crime, my enemy at times, yet I still find myself always wanting more. I will never tire of having you around because every moment you fill a unique role. And I love you. And you know I have for so long."

"Trent," she said, choking in her own tears, "you idiot, I cannot stop crying!"

He laughed then and wrapped her in his arms, kissing the top of her head. "Your tears are safe with me, darling, always remember that."

☙✾❧

The engagement ball thrown by the two powerful dukedoms was grand. The two duchesses wanted nothing short of splendid and they invited everyone from all over Sutherland. The royal family would have been there if they were not mourning for Albert's death.

Brierwell was transformed into an extravagant fair that was almost comparable to the Season Fair, the biggest one held in Coulway. Dozens of gazebos were erected and decorated according to the specifications of both duchesses. Entertainment varied from one place to another, from one garden to the next.

Caroline had to suffer the grand entrance her mother envisioned for her since her birth. She may not have had a Season debut, but she had the most amazing introduction to society with the heaviest gown she had ever worn.

"Do not leave my side," she whispered to Trent after their families made a toast for their upcoming union, "I may trip. I am serious, Trent. This gown must be made of steel." She clutched his arm tightly, the smile on her face turning into a scowl with each step she took.

"Then change into a different one," he said, looking around. "I am certain no one would notice."

"Are you bloody crazy?"

He looked down at her, his eyes glimmering with adoration. "I can help you."

Caroline's heart thudded against her chest. Good Lord, she had never had the chance to be alone with him since she returned. By alone, she meant alone in a locked room, unclothed. She cleared her throat. Then she turned away from him to go to her mother.

"Mother, I cannot breathe."

Concern immediately clouded her mother's features. "What do you mean you cannot breathe?"

"It is the gown. It is too heavy. I swear I will faint if I stay in it for another minute." She begged with her eyes. "I have another one."

"It is a marvelous idea, dear," answered Trent's mother who was standing beside hers. "Flaunt as many gowns as you like. If I have a daughter, I would have her change five times."

Ten minutes later, she and Trent were rushing back into the manor, chuckling like children. They've had many moments like this in the past, them as children, running away from their parents with triumphant and naughty laughter. And it still felt the same. Because she was with the same man.

Once, Trent pulled her under a staircase and claimed her mouth, tenderly at first and then hungrily. "I want you now," he groaned against her lips.

"And I you," she replied, pushing away from him. "But not tonight. We have a ball to see through."

He escorted her up to her room. He followed her inside and stopped her when she reached for the bell pull. Then he gathered her in her arms and found her mouth. A lamp was lit in one corner of the room, enough for him to see where to lead her.

"If we can be quick—" were the only words he needed from her. He groaned and pushed her to the bed. He followed soon after, covering her laughter with his mouth as he pushed the skirts of her gown higher while hastily freeing himself from his trousers.

He cursed against her mouth because his hands were shaking. Bloody hell, he was shaking. She chuckled, and he punished her by biting on her lower lip. She lifted her hips against his hands, working on his trousers, teasing and taunting.

Trent growled in her ear. Bloody tarnation, missed her this way.

"This gown should be burned," he breathed out into her ear.

It was a great struggle, but he finally managed to free himself.

Her hands flew over her head, clutching the sheets as he found her ready for him. A soft growl vibrated through her exposed throat as she pulled her head back, digging into the mattress while her back arched, her hips grinding against his hand and fingers.

She moaned his name, a desperate plea.

His hand pulled at the strings of her stays and mayhap he was hurting her, but she seemed to not mind because her other hand came to tug at his hair, leading his mouth down her breast, silently making an order. With one more tug, and a tearing sound of a fabric, he freed one breast and warmed it with his mouth.

The muffled music from downstairs were no more as Trent buried himself into her. The magic was not on the grounds of Brierwell. It was not in the extravagant gowns and dancing and music. It was here, in her bed.

He buried his groan of pleasure in the crook of her neck. He tasted the salty taste of her skin and sucked as he buried himself deeper, his hands digging into her hips, foregoing the task of completely stripping her.

He wanted to feel more, but this was as heaven enough. The friction of the fabric against their skin; their hot, moist breaths echoing around the room like silk; the teasing and feeling of urgency were enough to drive them both to the peak, to an explosive wonder that was solely their own.

Panting, Trent turned his head, his mouth breathing hot against her jaw. Then he grinned, kissing her there. "Have I said I love you today?"

She swallowed and scoffed. "Enough to make me deaf," she retorted.

He raised on his elbows and kissed her mouth, tasting the wine on her tongue, and smiling. Then he pulled away, taking her with him. She looked completely debauched. He would have her again, this time from behind. He would make her weak with his hands and mouth alone. But now was not the time. They had more later on.

"Now, let us get your dressed, darling. We have guests waiting."

☙✾❧

"You look flushed," Ellise noted when Caroline sauntered toward her. Then her friend looked down at her light blue dress. "What happened to your humongous gown?"

"It turned into a pumpkin, I'm afraid," she retorted. "And I am flushed because Trent and I just made passionate love in my bedchamber."

"Your jokes are sometimes not funny at all, Caroline. Surely, you could not finish a sexual act in such a short time," her friend replied, her stoic face telling her she did not take any of her statement seriously. Caroline could only laugh. Ellise looked out of the veranda. "What a waste of money, don't you think so? Everyone will soon freeze to death."

"I agree," she said, grinning at the woman. Ellise was wearing a simple puce silk gown, a pair of long white gloves, and her hair tied like it always was in a ponytail behind her. The woman was beautiful. In fact, Caroline had always thought Ellise was too beautiful for anyone. She had known many men who had been drawn to Ellise the first time they met her. The woman's hazel eyes were big and clear, lined with thick lashes that could either entice or slice a man's soul. Her lips had a natural curl in the corners, and it should have been why the men always thought Ellise was an easy woman.

Every man who ever thought Ellise St. Vincent was an easy catch had been proven wrong after just one encounter. Most often, those encounters were never followed by another. There were only a few people Ellise considered friends, Trent and Caroline among them. And perhaps Robert. They were all around the same age, and had been around the same circle of people.

"You will soon be a prisoner," said Ellise. "How do you feel about that?"

Caroline cleared her throat, because the word prisoner made her think of herself tied to the bed, naked and squirming as Trent pleasured her with his mouth. Then she coughed, the image too stubborn to go away. Oh, good Lord, she was a harlot. "I will be a willing prisoner," she told her friend.

Ellise frowned at her. "You look truly flushed. Are you certain you are feeling fine?"

"Yes, I am. Elated, as a matter-of-fact." She looked about. "Where's your mother?"

"Home."

"She did not come?"

"She is with the child."

"Ah, of course," Caroline said with understanding. The mention of the child reminded her of Fatima, and she wondered how the women were. Guilt washed over her. Here she was, having a grand ball, while there were women longing for their child within Belcourt.

Taking a deep breath, Caroline told herself she would not let her feelings toward Belcourt and its women ruin this night. It would take time, but she hoped it would eventually free those women. "And your father?"

"Out here somewhere with my brother. Perhaps in the gaming room."

"Aliya?"

"In a delicate condition. She is home in Strait."

Caroline nodded. "Have you seen Trent?" She had not seen him since he left her bedchamber to call for her maid to help with her hair.

"He was with Robert earlier," said Ellise dryly, sipping from her glass of wine. "This wine is too sweet."

"We have brandy."

"Where?"

"I do not know. Find a drawing room. I am certain you can find a good bottle."

Ellise started to turn then stopped. "Who is that woman talking to Trent?"

Caroline turned and then froze. "Jade."

The wench!

The woman's audacity to come here. Here!

There were hundreds of guests. Of course, it would have been easy for the witch to be here.

"Is she supposed to be here?"

"No."

Ellise nodded. "I figured." Then she frowned. "Is she a Belle?"

"Yes."

"I figured." Tilting her head to the side, Ellise asked, "Trent is dragging her somewhere."

Indeed, her fiancé was dragging Jade somewhere, and Caroline followed. Ellise made a move to follow, but she said, "No, stay here. Make certain no one finds out."

"You cannot be here, you have to leave," she heard Trent say in a low, controlled voice. He did not sound angry, but Caroline could feel the shaking fury underneath his tone.

She followed them down a corridor.

"I know you want me here. Should we find a room, darling?" Jade asked, the woman's voice bringing back memories to Caroline she would rather forget. "I'm sure Caroline would not mind. She is not here, is she? She must be with friends."

"Jade, I am not longer a gentleman of Belcourt. You are no longer my Belle."

"Now, I know you only did that because her father demanded—"

Caroline did not let the woman finish. She rushed forward, grabbed the woman by the arm, and dragged her down the corridor, leaving Trent behind.

"What—" Jade began, but Caroline smiled down at her and pushed her into an empty drawing room. When Trent followed, she closed the door in his face saying, "Guard the door, darling," and faced Jade. "What are you doing here, Jade?"

The woman blinked. "Carol! It is wonderful to see you."

Caroline looked down at the woman's dress. It was the same white one Caroline was supposed to wear on her wedding day. Her red hair was adorned with pearls, the same way Caroline's was when she was a Belle. Good Lord, this woman was insanely obsessed.

"Forgive me, Jade, but my memory is quite poor of late. But I do remember a tiny bit about what I said to you the first time we met."

Jade blinked, her smile fading as confusion morphed on her face.

"Did I not tell you not to invade my privacy?" Caroline asked, not a bone in her body willing to keep up the act of a lost memory. Belcourt already knew she did not lose her memory. And obviously, they did not tell Jade. Nor had they reprimanded the woman about what she did because she was still walking around freely as if she had done nothing wrong.

"Whatever do you mean, Carol?"

"I value my privacy, Jade. Trent, I am afraid, is my privacy. He is mine. You can no longer play with him." She took a step toward the door. "Now, if you would please leave my party, I would be very grateful. And do not call me Carol. I am Caroline. Only Trent calls me Carol."

Caroline reached for the door handle but stopped when Jade said, "You are too confident, Caroline. Is it because you have everything?" The ire in the woman's tone reverberated toward Caroline and she turned to face a very furious, deranged woman. "You have never experienced having nothing, you spoiled brat."

She frowned. "It is not my fault I was born privileged, Jade. As it is not my fault to be loved by the man I love. But it will be my fault if I allow someone to ruin everything. And I believe you tried to do that once, did you not?"

If Jade was ever doubtful, then she now had her answer. She sneered, her brow arched high. "So you remember."

Caroline smiled. "No, Jade, I never forgot."

The woman's face froze.

"So, you see, you have never played me. In fact, it was I who played you." She pulled open the door. "I am still trying to figure out how to deal with you. You have Belcourt's protection, after all. But if you do not leave this ball right now, Belcourt may just lose one Belle. The forest is nearby, if I am not mistaken."

She did not wait for Jade's next words. She walked out the door and Trent followed her. "Please make certain the guards see her outside," she told him.

He took her hand and led her to another door, this time it was not empty. There were a couple of guests inside who congratulated them. They hastily conveyed their thanks before walking out. Trent led her further down, pausing at the foot of the stairs to order the two footmen to escort a red-haired lady wearing a white gown out of the estate.

As the pair of footmen rushed off, Trent led Caroline to the second landing and into her father's library.

"Why would you do that? Are you bloody insane?" Trent demanded. "Now, the woman would be on to you."

"She would always be on to me, Trent. She will attack again and I am tired of constantly wondering when. We might as well not prolong it." She smiled at him.

"You are too impetuous, Carol."

She sighed. He was not wrong. "Yes, but this time I am ready for her."