Montague returned the smile of his cousin, more out of habit than due to any real desire to do so. He was finding her overly tenacious attention rather wearing.

Julianna beamed back at him, revelling in the small smile he had offered her. They were partaking in their second dance of the set, the quadrille. It was tedious that she had to share his attention with others within their set but what could she do? She moved forward swapping places with the gentleman to her right, her blue eyes fixated upon Cedric, casting disparaging glances at any female within his vicinity.

He seemed distracted this evening, even more so than usual. She could almost picture the familiar crease his forehead produced when he was deep in thought. He seemed on edge, but then Cedric was never truly at ease amongst large social engagements. Something he would need to master once they were wed.

How could a man so handsome be so disinclined to enjoy all that ton had to offer during the season? Cedric was far too happy to spend his evenings at home in his study, or worse at that awful Inn offering advice and council to other young fledging solicitors hard at study.

Silly Cedric, she thought with amusement. She knew full well he did not need to undertake legal employment, her father was certain her uncle, the late admiral, had left his son a very handsome inheritance. Not to mention what their union would bring, for her dowry was sizeable; and who better to proceed her father than his own nephew? Yes, once she was his wife, he would no doubt give up such nonsense. Her father was an important man, and she was positive Cedric was the only man up to the task of the future Earl of Huntingdon. Blood would always win, for lineage was everything.

Poor silly Cedric, she continued to muse as she watched his gaze flicker nervously about the room. Clearly, she made him nervous, so shy he was around her. She knew she looked very appealing this evening in her red gown, obviously he was too shy to allow himself to look upon her. Why must he be so difficult, she had made her intentions abundantly clear. Men always needed so much encouragement!

"I must say you look ever so dashing as King Arthur," she cooed as they finally came back together.

"I think we both know I look rather ridiculous," he replied dryly, almost tripping on the god-awful velvet cloak yet again. Upon noticing her sudden frown he swiftly added; "but anything to keep the lady happy."

"And I am exceedingly happy," Julianna replied, squeezing his hand as they turned, before passing along the line to the gentleman to her right.

Cedric took relief in the much-welcomed respite from his younger cousins' attentions as she moved up the line with Martin Fotheringhay. Lord, the girl was too attentive at times, far too open with her intentions for the public to witness. She made him feel no more than a possession at times, like some sort of much-loved pet with all her fawning and not so subtle looks.

He sighed, scolding himself. He should not be so cross with Julianna. He of all people knew what her character was like. He just wished she would get over this silly obsessional crush she had towards him. He had no desire to marry her. His uncles unfailing encouragement of such a scenario also did not help matters.

He scanned the crowded ballroom for what must have been the hundredth time. No, there was no point in him chastising Julianna's overly zealous behaviour towards himself when he was ardently looking for a particular obsession of his own. He had agreed to be his cousins chaperone months ago, it was not her fault his focus was being drawn elsewhere.

If you had told him a month ago, he would have lost his head to some fashion obsessed young chit he would have laughed hard and long. Had you told him he would lose his good sense over a social climbing opportunist who had made a rather public play for his friend the Viscount; whom he himself had often in public set down or rebuked, he would have thought you soft in the head. Yet here he was.

Caroline Bingley was becoming an ever-increasing concern. Yes, she was sharp tongued, self-centred and rather spoilt; but she was bright, intelligent and under that beautiful, yet calculating exterior, he knew there was yet more to be discovered. She was far more intelligent than her brother, possessed a quick wit which he found disarming, and had shown a kindness in her attention to young Simon he had not previously thought she possessed. In truth she fascinated him.

He felt restless, what could be keeping her? He was becoming more and more agitated, but more so at himself for not being in control of his own wretched emotions. It was not as though she even looked upon his person favourably, but that idiotic moment of weakness in Darcy's study still plagued him into wondering if she ever could. He had never felt more alive than in that moment when he had kissed her against his better judgment.

Conversing with Miss Bingley; their borderline sharp exchanges, somehow interlaced with moments of unspoken meaning, had become addictive. He found himself seeking out her company whenever the opportunity arose. He would always arrange to meet Charles at his home, dissuading him from seeking him at his club or private office as he did with other London clients. Every invitation within that particular social group was accepted most willingly, even if it meant going back on formerly agreed engagements. He knew he was setting himself up for trouble but surely this was simply infatuation on his part? And infatuation would always run its course to only dwindle and die. On this point he could only but hope this to be the case.

As he turned, swapping places with the lady opposite him he finally saw her, standing at the far side of the room, her dark hair tumbling in a cascade of rolling curls. A Grecian style dress was draped artfully over her tall frame, skimming each and every curve, leaving her arms and shoulders wonderfully exposed. She was a vision. He broke into a wide smile noticing the statue of Nike and the taxidermy owl. The goddess Athena, he could not deny such a persona suited her.

He watched as she moved away from a gentleman dressed as a Harlequin, drinking in the slither of her exposed back, focusing intently on the pale skin which contrasted so perfectly with her dark hair. A sudden movement caught his eye as Alfred Bingley marched towards his cousin, dressed in pompous burgundy robes, his face red in annoyance. He watched, bemused initially, as Alfred Bingley grasped the arm his cousin. His puzzlement quickly turned to anger upon realisation of what he saw before him. Alfred was literally dragging the girl through the crowds. What the devil was going on?

He stepped back towards his partner, craning his neck in order to follow the departing figures. The moment he lost sight of Caroline he knew he must go after them. Bowing his head to Julianna he stepped back from the line, moving with determination after the pair, Julianna's cries of annoyance entirely ignored.

He hurried through the jolly crowd, manoeuvring with difficultly; lifting the buggering cloak which kept being stood upon by people milling around him. Entering the corridor, he strode forth, casting his eyes in every darkened recess for the pair. Just ahead he suddenly heard a whack of a sound followed by a low cry of pain. Seeing Alfred raising his arm, Montague reached out, wrapping his large hand almost entirely around his forearm, pulling it upwards with jerking speed.

"That is enough sir," he growled, blood pounding in his ears. "Might I suggest you get out of my sight before I am unable to account for my own actions."

The excuse of a man before him tried to speak but failed, eventually pulling his arm free. Alfred addressed Caroline, though Montague paid little attention to what was said as he tried to control his anger. A second later the cousin was gone.

Montague had not taken his eyes from Caroline for a second. She looked up at him, her eyes looked frightened but as ever she raised her chin in defiance, making some poor attempt at a joke to hide her discomposure. Upon meeting his eye; her lip began to tremble. He could not stop himself. He pulled her against him, crushing her rather clumsily against his ridiculous costume, holding her as tightly to his chest as he was able.

"Montague, he knows everything. What am I going to do?" The alarm was evident in her voice, he hated seeing her so obviously distressed. But what did Alfred know? What had happened? Before Montague could ask further, she had turned her face into the nook of his shoulder and burst into tears.

He stood for a moment rather stunned, as the object of his rather inappropriate obsession wept uncontrollably into the velvet of his costume. He wanted to comfort her, but did not know how.

He lifted a hand and placed it upon the small of her back gently caressing her bare skin with his thumb, whispering soothing words into the mass of dark hair pressed just under his chin. She smelt divine, a heady exotic floral scent, quite unique amongst the standard lavender and rose concoctions favoured by the ladies of the ton. He breathed her in deeply, holding her against him. It would be so easy to simply tip her head back and... He could not allow himself to take advantage of the situation.

Placing both his hands on her upper arms he pushed her from him gently, holding her steady, her watery eyes making his heart ache to hold her again.

"Let me go get your brother, unless you do not wish me to leave you alone?"

"No," she cried, her eyes wide. No longer fear, but panic expressed across her face. "Please, I beg you do not seek my brother. Oh, Lord what am I to do. He knows it all, I am sure of it. I saw the look; I knew full well the meaning of his words. How could I have been so stupid not to understand him sooner!" She had stepped free of his hands, pacing in small circles in front of him.

"Miss Bingley..." he began, trying to gain her attention. It was futile, she continued to mumble to herself, her voice becoming rather broken as her upset took hold causing her to take in short, shaking breaths.

"Miss Bingley," he said firmly, "Caroline, look at me." He reached for her, but she flinched from his touch. "Caroline, please. I need you to calm. Least of all we should be discovered with you in such a state of distress. What is it you think he knows? What is it he holds over Charles? I'll kill the man when I get a hold of him."

"I cannot," she began.

"You must, how am I to help you and your family if you do not place your confidence in me."

"Charles does not know, no one can ever know." Her voice became low, as though she was trying to take control of her emotions. She raised her head and met his gaze, her eyes suddenly cold and closed off. "I will not allow anyone to know. But I not know how I can prevent it unless I bend to his will."

He stepped closer to her, placing his hands once again either side of her, gently holding her upper arms. She stilled this time under his firm touch, looking at up him, at a loss of what to do.

"Do you trust me?" He asked softly, gently squeezing her arms in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

"You can never truly trust anyone," she replied flatly.

"You can trust me," he replied taking his left hand and moving it to cup the side of her face. "I would never do anything to cause you or your family harm. You must know this, confide in me, let me help you."

He looked at her with such feeling, she found it rather hard to breath; the heat of his hand against her cheek was only adding to the whirl of emotions and stress pulsing through her body. She needed to get away.

"I wish to leave now," she replied. "I do not want to see anyone, least of all my family. Could you, I mean, would you be so kind to see me into a Hackney?"

"Like bloody hell I will," he replied, dropping his hands from her person. He saw the look of annoyance on her face instantly.

"You said you wished to help!"

"And I do, but I am not going to procure you a Hackney and pop you merrily inside unchaperoned at this hour. Especially when you are dressed like that." He gestured towards her carefully crafted ensemble. "We shall take my carriage and I will escort you home."

"I do not wish to go home."

"Where do you intend to go?"

"I do not know. I cannot go home until I plan what I am to do. I cannot allow him to take it all away. Everything we have struggled for. What would Charles do? He is not strong; he is not resourceful."

"Miss Bingley I need you to tell me what this is all about. I need you to trust me, I am bound to your brother as his legal aid. This is what I do. I need you to tell me. I can not help if I am in the dark."

She bit her lip as she tried to think. Could she trust him? What would he think of her once he knew the truth? Alfred was right, no one would wish to be associated with them once it became general gossip. It was hard enough at present to be accepted amongst ton society; a scandal would ruin their reputation.

"I will confide in you. Only please, may we leave this very instant? I wish to be anywhere but here."

He nodded. "Give me a moment, wait here and I shall return directly." He strode off up the corridor, not turning into the ballroom but heading towards the foyer.

Caroline stood rooted to the spot, she felt cold, rather sick if she were honest. Where was she going to go? She had no intention of returning home; she wished to be as far from Alfred and her brother as possible until she knew her next move. She could always return to Grosvenor Street to the Hurst's. Or better still she could seek refuge with the Darcy's. Georgianna was at home, she would of course allow her entry. Then she could avoid all her family for the present. Then in the morning she would confide in Darcy, there was no man as sensible and logical as Darcy. He would not cast her brother aside, of this she was certain.

A moment later she heard heavy footfall approach, Montague had returned with a small, elderly gentleman trailing along behind him.

"Rodgers has ordered my carriage be brought to the side alley, we can leave through the back, by the cold room. Is this acceptable to you? I thought you may wish to avoid the crowds."

She simply nodded, looking towards the gentleman alongside Montague.

"Do not worry Miss Bingley, Rodgers and I go way back. He is the sole of discretion."

"I have decided I would like to be taken to Darcy House."

He gave her a pained look. "We shall discuss that once we are settled, come make haste. Before anyone should happen upon us."

With Rodgers leading the way, they followed him to the end of the corridor, down several stone steps, along another a route before entering the large stone pantry. Both gentlemen pulled hard upon the solid door, which opened out to the street beyond. The carriage was already waiting. Montague aided Caroline in before him, taking a moment to give thanks to Rodgers before closing the door behind him.

The air felt chilled, it was well after eleven, all warmth of the day entirely gone. Caroline sat opposite Montague upon the leather seat. She crossed her arms hugging her body. She felt chilled but was not sure if it was from the evening air or the aching dread lurching around within her stomach.

"You are cold," he stated reaching his hands to his neck to unpin his cloak from its fastenings.

"I am fine. Honestly we shall not be long until we reach Grosvenor Street." The words were hardly out of her mouth before he moved forward, pulling the mass of red velvet free, placing it about her shoulders.

"The wretched thing has been a hindrance to me all evening, let it at least serve some purpose."

She gave him a small smile, pulling the fabric tighter around her person, suddenly feeling rather underdressed with only him present. She did her best not to notice the spicy smell which she had grown accustomed to his person emitting enticingly from the material.

She felt defeated, but she knew if she was to trust anyone, Montague was her only real option.

"I promise I shall do all in my power to assist. I am sure once we assess the situation it will not be so bad. Nothing is entirely unsolvable you know, otherwise I would not be paid as handsomely as I am." He gave her a lopsided grin in an attempt to ease the mood.

"How long until we reach Grosvenor?" She asked turning her face to the window. "I find myself rather fatigued."

"I thought you intended to talk to me?"

"I will, I mean I do, but can it not wait until the morrow?"

"No it really can not," he replied firmly. He was in no mood for her sudden carrying on. He also had no intention of simply handing her over to Darcy. He could hear her puff of vexation, her face turned to the window, clearly ignoring him. A few minutes passed before she spoke.

"What of Lady Mycroft? I saw you partnered with her on the dancefloor."

She saw the sudden shocked look pass over his face before he let out a groan. "No doubt she will be sore at me tomorrow for leaving her. Do not fret I will tell her nothing of this. You have my word."

"You are well acquainted with Lady Julianna?"

"I should think so," he replied nonchalantly, reaching forward to pull the red velvet higher upon her shoulders, which had slipped low under its weight revealing the soft curve of her bare upper arms. In truth he had given his cousin little thought.

"Oh, I see," Caroline replied rather flatly. She could feel another dangerous attack of emotion building within her. She bit down on her lip, refusing to allow him to see her upset over his apparent close relationship with a woman whom she absolutely detested. But what on earth was Julianna doing sinking so low as to entertain a mere man of the law.

"Oh, you see do you?" He said softly, sitting back in his seat, trying his damnedest to read her curious expression. "She is my cousin."

"Your cousin!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, her father is the elder brother of my late father. I have always been close to my uncle, and of course that includes Julianna."

She made a small involuntary facial grimace before she had time to gain her composure.

"Would I be right in assuming," he grinned, "that you and my cousin are perhaps not firm favourites?"

"Perhaps it is simply safer to say that we do not frequent in the same circles."

"Yes, Julianna does rather prefer to be only seen within a particular crowd." Instantly he saw the pained expression upon Caroline's face at the meaning of his words. "Oh, please, do not pay my cousin one jot of notice, she has always been a rather odious stickler for the appearance of rank, be it sensible or otherwise. Truth be told, you could be a duchess and I am sure my cousin would still find reason to spurn you."no

"Oh, how kind of you," she snapped her temper rising. "Even as a duchess I would be found wanting."

"That is not what I meant at all," he yelled back, more out of habit for she had raised her voice at him. "I merely meant Julianna would not likely keep company with a woman such as yourself."

"How dare you," she began, her face growing red. "And to think I thought I could trust you. When clearly your opinion of me is so low that.."

"Miss Bingley," he interrupted firmly. "If you would allow me to finish, I simply meant Julianna would be unlikely to keep company with a woman as overtly attractive as yourself. Her own vanity would never allow herself to be compared alongside a woman whose features far outshine that of her own."

The angry flare of her eyes disappeared instantly, her mouth dropping open in surprise.

"Oh indeed," he mused rather delighted in seeing the girl truly gobsmacked. He could not bring himself to take her to Darcy House. The knowledge that she would run to Darcy when she was distressed greatly grated on him. What could she expect Darcy to do? Why did she idolise the man so completely? He did not even pay her the attention she was due. No, he knew exactly where they were going and he would keep her safe until he knew all the particulars. Not Darcy.

"We are not going to Grosvenor Street. Now, listen to me before you begin your objections. I wish to hear all that has occurred between yourself and Alfred. This is not negotiable Miss Bingley, you have been allowed far too much freedom, running around London with that gentleman. I think it is safe to say whatever your intentions were they have backfired."

"I truly believed he was simply a conman, trying his luck by appealing to Charles rather too generous nature. Greedy but harmless. But indeed I was wrong."

The carriage pace began to slow, she squinted through the dark of the quarter light. "Where are we?"

"My home. You and I shall discuss matters in my study, I intend to document our discussion as a statement, do not argue; I believe this shall be for the best. I shall have my housekeeper and another of the female staff stay with you. You must trust me."

She pulled the cloak tighter around her shoulders, suddenly nervous at the thought of entering his private home. She could feel her little stuffed owl hanging precariously off her shoulder, she reached to try and pull it off.

"Allow me," he spoke as he reached forward to untie the ribbons which fixed the feathered creature in place. She watched him, his face only inches from hers. Lord, what would he think of her? If she had been worried of his reaction earlier, now knowing he was the nephew of the Earl of Huntingdon only heightened her concern. To these people rank and lineage was everything. She desired his good opinion, his good opinion mattered to her. As much as she hated to admit it, Montague mattered to her.

She was quickly ushered into the house, a beautifully appointed residence off Hanover Square. Her eyes grew wide upon seeing the marble staircase before her and the lavish detail of the foyer. She would never have expected this of him.

"This is your home?" She asked rather rudely.

He laughed. "Miss Bingley, I think you greatly underestimate my legal talents. I have been lucky, I have been successful. I would like to think my home is a reflection of this." He felt ridiculously pleased with himself for impressing her. "In truth I actually have a small estate in Kent and another in Surrey, though they were inherited upon my father's passing. He was a very successful admiral in the navy. However Hanover is all my own. Ah wonderful there you are Miss Brown."

Caroline turned to see a rather young woman approach. She looked no more than sixteen and wore a simple brown work dress with her pale blonde hair pulled high into a simple knot. Her blue eyes were looking back and forth between the two of them. Caroline decided she disliked her immediately.

"Miss Brown, would you be so kind as to have tea brought to my study. My apologies I know it is late. Also could you have one of the guest rooms prepared? Please have one of the maids to wait in attendance." He turned to Caroline. "I am afraid you will find no skilled ladies maid within these walls, but I hope my staff shall suffice for this one evening. Come, my study is just down the hall."

He led her down the hallway, his hand on the small of her back. She was still wrapped in the massive red velvet clock which she continued to hold around herself as she was seated within a leather armchair in his study. The room was dark in style with heavy masculine furniture. It felt oppressive, too serious. She began to feel most uncomfortable.

He busied himself, lighting candles and moving papers upon his desk. He suddenly stopped and walked out the room.

Miss Brown returned almost instantly, carrying a silver tea service, including several cut sandwiches and cake.

"I thought you may want something to go with your tea." The girl spoke as she placed the tray upon the edge of the desk. "Mr Montague is a terrible one for eating late in the evening."

"My apologies for causing you any inconvenience, I know it is late and rather unorthodox I am sure to have a woman appear unchaperoned."

The blonde girl looked upon her with a critical eye, taking in her dishevelled appearance. Caroline instantly flushed with embarrassment realising how her current attire must appear. "Do not fret yourself madam. The master is always bringing home some poor soul in need of assistance. We are more than used to his overly kind nature."

Caroline took the words as the slight she was sure they were intended. "I would have you know we were at a masquerade ball, everyone present was in costume. Your employer works for my family, I would ask that you address me with the respect that I am due."

The girl merely nodded her head and left the room, leaving Caroline all but fuming. How bloody dare she look down her nose upon her! Also what sort of man keeps such a pretty young thing as a housekeeper! That thought alone did not sit well with Caroline.

"Please help yourself to tea," he called re-entering the room. "Do not wait to act upon ceremony with me." He had changed out of his restrictive costume, abandoning the metal breast plate and chain mail for a simple white shirt and cravat, his shirt sleeves pushed up exposing his dark haired forearms. The visual was not lost on Caroline.

He poured himself a cup of tea, adding two sugars before sitting back in his large chair at the opposite side of the desk. "I am ready to listen. Take your time, I shall take notes if I believe it to be necessary."

"She is rather young." Caroline remarked cattily, reaching for the tea pot.

He quirked an eyebrow. "We are not here to discuss my staff Miss Bingley."

"Perhaps we should. I never would have believed you to be such a man," she replied haughtily.

"I will not dignify your childish behaviour with an answer. Now either do as we agreed or I shall return you to the care of both your brother and cousin and leave you to it."

"How can you be so unfeeling!"

"How dare you imply there is anything untoward happening between myself and Miss Brown. I have done nothing but try and help you, yet you have the nerve to call me unfeeling?"

"You can not help me!" she shouted, her control over her emotions entirely slipping.

"So you keep saying but I can not see what can be so horrific that it is beyond finding a rational conclusion."

"Alfred knows all about my mother. We are ruined and like everyone you shall not wish to be associated with my family once such a truth is known!" She burst into tears, not caring any longer to even pretend. Suddenly she felt herself being pulled forward, his arms around her as he pulled her firmly against his chest. She wept uncontrollably into his shoulder, letting all her fear and misery finally burst to the surface. "I have never told anyone. Charles and Louisa do not know."

He ran his hand gently over her back, holding her tightly against him. "I would never turn my back on you, you silly girl," he soothed kissing the top of her head protectively. "Can you not see that?"

She pulled back from him, her face deathly pale. "After my father's death my mothers health rapidly went down hill. Louisa had recently married and Charles was still studying so I took care of her, I had always taken care of her. My mother was a difficult woman and in need of careful and constant managing. Her temper was volatile and she was not one to be easily pleased. She had always been a highly strung woman; peculiar in her habits, fastidious in having things done exactly as she desired. For all of this, my father and her seemed happy together, she adored him. Upon his sudden death she became paranoid, borderline delusional. I cared for her the best I could in that last year, though she was spiralling to a place where only death would grant release. Without my father's protection her mind was her own undoing. She would not eat, she would not sleep, she simply allowed herself to rot away."

He reached for her again instinctively, but she shook him off with a wave of her hand, standing to move across the room, placing some distance between herself and him. He would not wish to touch her once he knew the facts.

"During the last few weeks of her life, she told me things. Dreadful things. Secrets she had kept buried for twenty years. No one knew of her past expect my father. Without his protection all her demons came back to haunt her. I do not even think she recognised me near the end. I feel she simply wished to confess in the hope of absolution."

She took her seat once again before continuing;

"My mother informed me she was born in the workhouse. She did not know her parentage, only that her mother did not survive the birth. The first decade of her life was spent within those violent grubby walls, before she was, for want of a better word, recruited."

Montague sat upon the edge of his desk, his expression sombre. "Do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean. She was no more than a child when they took her. Nothing more than a frightened child at the mercy of grown men. She was twelve when Matthew Bingley decided that he no longer wished to share her with others. A man in his thirties, already married and father to a ten year old boy; abusing a child for his own deviant pleasure. He placed her in his haberdashery, pretending she was a seamstress, but everyone knew she was merely his most recent toy. She told me she had found out that there had been many before her. He liked them young and soon lost interest. My father was Matthew's youngest brother. By the time she was fourteen she was heavy with child, having no longer any use for the girl he threw her out. But my father, he could not allow his brothers actions to go unaccounted for. He married her, taking her with him immediately to London. Charles was born and my mother told me our father loved him as fiercely as if he were his own. My father protected her, loved her, took her away from the pain of her childhood. But once he was no longer present, she allowed herself to torment herself with memories of the past. So you see, Alfred and Charles are not cousins, they are brothers. Alfred knows our past and will ruin us all by exposing the truth. My mother was nothing more than his father's whore."