May 1811

Caroline never had a Season. Her parents found no reason to flaunt her around to find a match because she already had one. Camila would also experience the same lack of social experience amongst commoners as her sister was also betrothed to Trent's brother, Jamie.

Perhaps the only thing where both girls agreed on was the exclusive lifestyle as it was rare for Caroline or her sister to be seen out in public. Most of their social attendances were exclusive, mostly spent in balls that only invited the most elite.

At the moment, Camila was spared of going to royal balls. Caroline, however, had to endure some of them.

"The Garden Ball will be worse," Trent murmured beside her.

"I know."

"Because your family will be hosting."

"I'm dreading the moment, Trent, please, let us not talk about it," she hissed, looking around. "This is my sixth Princess Ball and it is still as horrible as the last."

He followed her gaze at the group of women huddled together. At the center is no other than Her Royal Highness, Princess Renee Esther Camila Davercher of Sutherland. "Are we back to the judging game?"

Caroline merely smiled. The dark blond princess was barely seen as her petite figure was almost covered by the humongous gowns her ladies in waiting were wearing. "I wager my horse they are measuring each other's dresses by how much they are worth."

"Lady Martha is probably the winner. She could fly with all those feathers."

Caroline gracefully hid a snort. "I agree. Poor Renee, I feel for her." She could feel that the princess was having a terrible time at the very ball that was hosted in her honor. Merely two years older than Caroline at six and twenty, the woman was destined for an enormously restraining life.

"You are thinking of going home, are you not?" Trent asked.

Tearing her eyes off the princess, Caroline nodded. "I believe we have been in Coulway far too long."

He nodded in understanding. "Your project in Brierwell has been postponed."

"The cabin is nearly finished."

Again, he nodded. "Would you like to dance?" he asked.

"To show everyone we are a loving couple?"

"Because we are bored," he corrected. "And because Princess Renee is looking our way and I believe she sees us as a refuge."

She sighed. "No. You know I hate dancing. But you are correct that I am bored. And Renee can join us if she pleases."

When he did not reply, she looked up. His eyes were on the other side of the ballroom. Following his gaze, she spotted her father, the Duke of Remington, talking to the king himself. Beside them was the crown prince, Albert, and his brother, Emory, looking magnificent in their decorated suit. "They look utterly serious, are they not?"

He nodded.

"Should we start talking about conspiracies?" He did not reply and she looked at him. His expression was serious as he continued to stare at the group of powerful men. "Is something happening that I am not privy to?"

"Many things are happening that you are not privy to, Carol," he replied under his breath.

"Should we follow them?" she suggested when the group, along with her father, started to exit the ballroom. From the corner of her eye, she saw her mother follow her husband with her gaze as she stood beside the queen, surrounded by their equally magnanimous friends.

"Who will take out the five guards?" he asked, smiling down at her, the mischievous look in his eyes returning.

"You are," she said, rolling her eyes. "You are the Royal, after all," she added under her breath before turning to where Princess Renee was and saw the princess walking in their direction. Then she turned to him and said, "Perhaps we should dance after all. I do not mind Renee, but I think she is bringing her peacock friend along with her."

⠒♣◆♣⠒

"Your mother was disappointed," Trent said, breaking the silence in the carriage much later.

"She is always disappointed where I am concerned. Admit it, you are only happy to escort me home." Changing the subject, she added, "Father has not yet returned from his talk with the king. What do you suppose they are discussing?"

He closed his eyes and sighed. "I would rather wait until he reports everything during the opera with the Circus. For now, I am exhausted."

"Exhausted as a Royal?"

"That and taking you to balls."

"You do not even have a mission," she said with a scoff.

"Of course, I do."

"Yes, of course. Your Belle."

She saw his jaw clench. Caroline sighed and carefully thought about her next words. "Trent, I hope that you can find a way to make it less painful for her in the end."

"I am certain she can handle it. She is not new to this. She had other flowers before."

She nodded. "But perhaps she is new to love."

Trent scoffed. "Carol, Belles, are trained to make their flowers believe they are in love with them."

"But you do not think the same with your Belle. You know she is in love with you. You said so yourself that—"

He took her hand in his and squeezed. "Let us not talk about this tonight, Carol, please."

Caroline sighed and looked out the window. "Do you suppose you can pay for her dowry now?"

He stiffened. "No."

She frowned. "Whyever not? You can provide for her and give her what she deserves—"

"She does not deserve a married man."

"You are not yet married—"

"I am to be married soon."

She nodded and looked away. For a while, she looked out at the dimly lit streets of Coulway. "Perhaps you do not have to be," she managed to say in a small voice.

His eyes snapped open and his brown eyes glinted with irritation. "I am marrying you."

"Your father, the Duke of Whitton, says you should, but you do not have to."

He shook his head. "We are not discussing this again, Carol."

"You are going to leave her once we are wed, then?"

Again, his jaw tightened.

"Trent," she started, turning in her seat so she could fully face him, "if you love her—"

"I do not love her. How many times do I have to make it clear?"

She paused, looking him in the eyes. And then she nodded. "Very well, but at least acknowledge the fact that you do have feelings for her."

His eyes closed once more, silently telling her that he was getting irate. "Where are you going with this, Carol?"

"Leave her now."

His eyes opened. The lazy look in his brown globes told her he was merely humoring her now. "Why?"

"If you will not choose her over me, leave her now before you cause any more damage to the poor woman. If you will not choose her, what will it make her in the end?"

"Carol, you know from the very start that I am doing this for the Circus. I cannot simply leave her after all the trouble I went through. Your father, who is currently committing treason by being in the same room as his cousin, the king, is risking everything for the Circus. Everyone in our family is doing this for the Circus. I am doing this for the Circus."

"You became a flower before you were a Royal, Trent, please," she said with a scoff.

"I became a flower because I wanted to be a Royal," he corrected.

Caroline sighed. "You are right. We are all doing this for the Circus—fooling everyone in our circle. It is pointless to even discuss this. She is an asset, after all."

"Thank you, but I know you have more to say."

"She is also someone who is in Belcourt because circumstances brought her there. You are a Royal because you chose to. She is the victim. That is how I see it."

"Again, Carol, Belles are more capable than you think."

Caroline laughed and pulled her hand away from his to cup his cheek. "Oh, Trent, I care very little if your Belle is capable of killing you or not because she has the right to do so. I care more about her as a woman. I know how it feels to be betrayed by a man."

His expression changed as she reminded him of the one man he wanted to kill as he said so himself.

"And I know how it feels to be chosen over another."

"You do not have to remind me of that bastard, Carol," he gritted out.

"Very well, I suppose you know where I stand. But if you believe your task for the Circus is more important than a woman's heart, then I have nothing more to say."

"Thank you," he said in a rather sarcastic tone.

"For ruining your evening?"

"That, and for your brutal honesty. I hate you for it."

She chuckled. "I know. It brings me immense joy to see the effects of my words on people."

"Then I hope you can be honest with your mother about the white dress."

She groaned. "My honesty has its boundaries, Trent."

His wry chuckle filled the carriage.

Then they both sighed.

"As my best friend, I enjoy us together. But I am beginning to think that marriage with you will prove to be utterly boring. We cannot keep a secret from each other. No mysteries to unravel."

He nodded. "Reading your mind is like having a preview of an opera."

"I should say the same. I fear I know you more than the holy bible itself. You are no longer as exciting as you were when you were ten and I was seven."

He stole her a glance. "Do you honestly believe you know me too well?"

"Of course. I know everything about you, Trent Durham, and even if you do not say it, I know that you care for your Belle," she said with confidence. "I only hope you do not entirely ruin her in the future. I would hate to be the subject of another woman's wrath."

He simply scoffed, shaking his head.

The silence lingered for some time. "Should we steal one?" she asked.

It took him merely a few seconds to realize what she was talking about and he laughed. "What do you want?"

"A boy, of course. You will need an heir."

He thoughtfully looked at her. "Or perhaps we can try—"

She grimaced. "I can never."

"I may find you desirable if I will it," he pointed out.

She blinked. "Can you imagine it?"

He blinked, looking at her. "Of course."

His answer froze her. "You can? How?"

He shrugged. "I am a man." Then he narrowed his eyes at her. "You are trying to imagine it."

"Yes," she replied.

"And?"

She just shook her head.

"Ah, that is because you have very little imagination and experience."

She slapped his arm. "I have enough experience to imagine how you and I can perform in bed!"

He shook his head. "Ah, that bastard should have done a poor job."

She gasped. "I agree that he is a bastard in character, but I cannot say he has done a poor job."

"Bed," he groaned, shaking his head.

"Yes. And floor."

That took his interest. His brow arched. "Floor?"

She nodded, lifting her chin proudly. "Yes, floor."

His eyes narrowed and he leaned forward. She had to lean back. "Wall?"

She blinked. "I believe we tried once or twice—"

"Tub?"

Her face flushed and she blinked. "Good Lord, I should have thought of that!"

Trent laughed triumphantly, leaning back into his seat. "Perhaps we can consider not stealing a child, Carol. You have much to learn from me, after all."

She sighed. "I still cannot imagine it, Trent. Not with you."

"You can always close your eyes and imagine that bastard."

Her jaw tightened. "I might end up strangling you."

"You have a point."

"Or perhaps you can find a mistress and—"

"I can, but who am I to take away a child from a woman and give it to another?"

For a split second, she stiffened but quickly recovered. Then she let out a long, dramatic sigh. "Then perhaps I should take the challenge."

"I am certain we shall survive it."

"And we might end up enjoying it."

"Yes. Anything can happen."

The sound of the carriage wheel against the cobbled street reigned between them for a while.

"A tub? Truly?" she asked.

"Hmm," he uttered, nodding his head. "Filled with water. Soap... can be quite slippery but it is worth it."

Caroline slowly nodded, looking out the window. Then she sighed. A tub was interesting.

She snapped her head back at him. "I still cannot imagine it with you," she admitted.

He laughed, showing the little dent on the side of his cheek. "Do not think too much of it, Carol. We can both figure it out in the future."

"Our siblings may already have five before we can do that."

"Now, now, let us not get ahead of ourselves. Those two will never beat us, Carol. Remember that it is their prime goal. We cannot let them win."

Her brow arched as she imagined the smug look in Camila and Jamie's faces as they held their firstborn. "Of course."

He stole her a glance, his face filled with amusement. "Have you found your motivation yet?"

She smiled. "Yes, perhaps I have." Looking out the window, she added, "We should have five before they are wed."

Trent's laughter filled the carriage.

⠒♣◆♣⠒

Trent watched as Caroline poured herself another glass of sherry.

Looking around the dimly lit drawing room, he sighed. "Carol, do you think you should retire to bed?"

"No, of course not," she retorted, settling in the winged chair, curling one leg under her as the other dangled down.

A faint smile crossed his lips as he watched her. She looked beautiful tonight. Her light brown hair was starting to return to its natural unruly state.

He had known her since she was born. Before she could even walk, Trent was told she would be his future wife.

When she turned ten, they were already the best of friends.

And when she turned eighteen and fell in love with the wrong man, Trent knew he had to protect her.

When he failed in that regard and she was left broken by the same man, Trent blamed himself.

And when she gathered herself back together, he knew for certain that he needed to marry her.

Not because it was the honorable thing. And most certainly not because their parents wished it.

"Do you believe that Reginald will be able to regain the throne?" she asked, drawing him away from his thoughts.

"No. But one can only hope."

"I believe the same. Leo has the chance, but I heard he is quite... less enthusiastic."

"And where did you hear that from?"

"Mother, of course," she said with a shrug. "But I also heard the new Darcy is adamant that Leo is groomed for the throne. I wonder how he plans to do so."

Trent scoffed. "Well, I can only imagine." He caught her looking at him and he narrowed his eyes. "You will never catch me revealing Darcy's identity, you witch."

Her chuckle reached his ears. Trent smiled. It took years to hear her laugh again.

She poured herself another glass and this time, she snuggled beside him. He wrapped an arm around her as she closed her eyes. "I think you've had enough," he gently said, taking the glass from her. As he laid it on the table beside the settee, Caroline wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest.

"Thank you," she murmured, eyes closed. "For staying."

He understood what she meant. Tucking the stray locks behind her ear, he bent and planted a kiss on the crown of her head. "I will always stay with you."

"I love you," she murmured sleepily. "You are the best friend anyone can have."

He scoffed, tasting a bitter taste at the back of his tongue. "And I love you too, Carol," he whispered with a sigh, resting his head back to stare at the ceiling, his thoughts drifting away. He let out a bitter chuckle, counting the times he openly told her the only secret she could never decipher. "Dense, Carol. You have always been so dense."

"Hmm?" she murmured.

He smiled down at her. "Someday," he softly whispered. He kissed her head once more. "Someday I'll tell you more about it."

*****

By morning, Caroline was awakened by Camila.

"Mother wants you downstairs at once," her sister said, looking down at Caroline. "What is the matter? Are you feeling ill?"

Caroline groaned, covering her eyes with her hand. "Close the curtains, Camila."

But her sister only crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head to the side. "Did you spend the entire evening drinking with Trent again?"

She turned away. "Go away, Camila," she groaned.

"You should get out of bed now, Caroline, before Mother comes in and find you in this state. Wash your face."

"I would rather sleep, thank you."

Her sister's sigh echoed around the bedchamber. "You are urgently needed downstairs."

"Please tell them I am indisposed for the entire day."

"I would gladly do so if your caller is not Princess Renee."

Caroline's eyes snapped open. She looked over her shoulder. "Renee?"

Camila nodded. "Yes."

"Why would she be here?"

"Well, to take you to the palace, of course."

Caroline blinked. "The palace? You mean Cloveshire?"

Camila rolled her eyes. "Yes."

"Why?"

"The queen wishes to talk to you."