Gambling it seemed was every bit as exhilarating as Niklaus had described. As the hour grew later, more and more occupants entered the sumptuous floor of the gaming hell. They flitted about, from table to table. Trying and testing their luck like bee's flitting about collecting nectar from the stems of flowers. Once the fancy had disappeared from one place, they would move to the next, hoping to tempt the fickle hand of fate in their favor.

She didn't know if the movement helped.

She wouldn't pretend that she understood it.

She'd played whist before, but had never wagered in order to do so. It seemed the safest option out of all of the table's littered around the decadent room. It was familiar, but she had to admit, it wasn't the game of chance that was drawing her. This day, this spontaneous impetuous decision brought on by Niklaus had been an unexpected adventure. An unexpected delight.

She loved the thrill of it. Of standing in a room of her peers in a mask, of the pretense of anonymity. The nominal threat of scandal that loomed over them at every moment. Were she caught here, what would happen? She didn't know, and that made it all… exhilarating.

They moved out of the back rooms, passed the wall of liquors and the Simon the barkeep, back to where the great room that housed the gambling tables. They glided, side by side, the occasional mirror fixed on the wall's reflecting the cutting figures both Caroline and Niklaus made walking side by side, her hand tucked neatly in the crook of his arm. At the threshold of the room, Niklaus made a quick motion with his opposite hand, raising a single finger up. She craned her neck to see to who, but she didn't have to wait as a neatly dressed solicitor appeared at their side. The man, unmasked as all of the staff were, face was impassive, expectant, like he'd been waiting for them to summon him the entire time.

"My Lord, how may I be of assistance?"

"Chips, if you will." His eyes moved to hers, even with the addition of his mask she could tell by the tight, pleased tug of his mouth that he was arching a brow at her. "How much would you like?"

She opened her mouth, to answer, to say something but fell short. She had no idea what was an acceptable amount to wager in a situation like this. Were there rules to that sort of thing? Did the time of day matter? Her sex? Their circumstances?

A fond smile curved on his lips as he leaned a fraction of an inch towards her. His eyes lowered, as he took on the clear expression of innocent ignorance there. She flushed, her mouth closing lightly as she let her inexperience at the situation, and the surrounding's dampen her spirits.

His voice was enough to break her out of her reverie. "Two hundred pounds should suffice. Thank you."

The solicitor bowed, a solid fluid bend of the waist as he turned quickly on his heel and disappeared.

Her mouth was open again, this time in amazement. "Two hundred pounds?!"

"Would you like more?" she couldn't tell if he was teasing her, his voice said that he was, but without being able to look at exactly the way the features of his countenance was molded how was she to know.

Was he mad? How could he possibly think to gamble away such an inexorbenent sum?

"Of course not! That's more than my quarterly allowance to run the entirety of the Forbes household, including personal expenses!"

His mouth pulled down into a frown, "Now that just won't do."

Quite right.

They'd simply gamble a smaller portion and return the remaining chips. Niklaus was lauded for his reasoning after all. His work at the House of Lords was considered paramount to parliament. His opinion's, and those of the seat's adjacent to him, the Salvatore's and Gerard's, were highly respected; if not considered the driving forces of England. Rational, well respected men, simply did not gamble away two hundred pounds in a single sitting.

He knocked his head to the side, pursing his lips as he looked over the ever increasing crowd. "We'll raise your allowance to five hundred pounds a quarter."

What in the world? That was two thousand pounds a year!

He could not be serious!

"No! That's not what I meant at all," she assured shaking her head in protest to his declaration.

"Oh? I don't see why not. With the addition of my person in the household five hundred pounds seems logical. We're combining expenses. As my townhouse is no longer in use, the funds would obviously relocated."

"Logical?" She sputtered. "Contradictory is what it is. Did you not just get through telling me that you preferred not to wager with a substantial amount of capital? That the Mikaelson fortune was not built on gambling?"

"Two hundred pounds is not nearly a substantial sum." He drawled, clearly amused by the course of the conversation. It made her nearly hysterical to think about. Two hundred pounds would set up the Orphanage for several years. The children would never have to worry about being taken care of or if food would be scarce. They'd have prospects, more prospects than simply Caroline or Anna could give them.

Prospects that could mean the very line between life or death. How flippant a thing for him to say, to be so casual about.

"To some it is. Mad. You are absolutely mad."

He smiled, a toothy curl of his lips that was meant to dazzle her. "I don't believe anyone's ever called me that before."

"I find that hard to believe," she said primly, letting her eyes dance around the occupants of the room. She did not see the solicitor, she wondered where he had gone, and how soon he would be back.

"They wouldn't dare. Most people are rather terrified of me."

"I am not most people." She said hotly, "I am your wife. And as your wife it's my obligation to tell you that those you keep as intimates have grossly done you a disservice." But there was no point in letting her emotions for the children get the better of her here. If he was intent on the task of raising Forbes house's allowance by such a degree, she'd simply allocate some of the gross overpayment of funds to charities. "Forbes house runs perfectly fine on our allowance. We maintain a strict grasp on our finances. Trust me. We want for not."

"Whether you want for not is irrelevant. I don't like living with restrictions, and I don't like the idea of you doing so either."

Her lashes fluttered, "Don't be ridiculous…"

"Why ever not?" He asked. He seemed genuine, as if he truly was curious as to why his offer was so overzealous. However could she explain it? He'd always been the only son. The male heir to a prosperous Earldom. He'd never experienced hardship or had to entertain the necessity of moderation. There was no argument she could present to him that he would possibly relate too.

She deflated, slowly, surely, under the weight of the subject. After a few moments of heavy silence she finally proffered a simple, "Because it's too much."

"I can't want to lavish you? If you are concerned for the state of the Mikaleson's holdings, I assure you, a few additional hundred pounds a quarter won't ruin us."

She shook her head in disbelief, "It's more than that."

"Then what? Tell me."

"You can't simply buy my affection. I did not marry you for your money."

The air instantly grew silent between them.

Had she really revealed so much? Of course in her youth, she had liked the idea of being a Countess. Had preened at the praise she'd been given by her close friends at landing such a match. Except she had not accepted Nik because of all of the things that came with marrying an Earl. She would have accepted him without a title, or money. She would have accepted him penniless. A pauper. She would have gladly have worked her fingers to the bone in embroidery to support the two of them. She had accepted him because she had loved him.

"I know," he said, bursting the silence that had enveloped them with her confession. Her heart was thumping wildly in her chest; so hard that she found it nearly unbelievable that he couldn't hear it from his position by her side. Especially when he shifted, closer. His hand stayed in the crook of her elbow, but he shifted his body so that he stood directly in front of her. His palm was warm against her bare skin. Too warm. His voice lowered, down to an evocative timber that snaked awareness throughout her, low and tight. "I realize a great many things that I did not before, Caroline."

She wanted to say his name in response, but she remembered his earlier comment regarding the state of names in this place. Her eyes danced around, to see if anyone had overheard their conversation, her identity, but no one looked their way. Not at the two figures, standing together, too close to be proper in polite society on the outskirts of the room.

"I want to buy you things, not out of a bid for your affection, but because it would please me to do so." She didn't respond, she didn't believe that she could find the appropriate words to respond. He shifted forward, another small imperceptible step. "I think I'd like to see you dripping in rubies, with the lushness of your skin, the deep scarlet of rubies would make your skin glow. Would you pair it with crimson silk? Like the dress you wore the night of the masquerade? Would you wear your hair down? In low candlelight the honey of your hair and the rubies would glitter in a way that ensnare even the most pious of men."

This time, she couldn't help his name as it spilled from her lips. "Niklaus."

He was so close, so close that she felt the heat of him. Whether it was the room or their proximity she didn't know. Only that when his hand moved up, from its place on her elbow and his knuckles dragged lightly along the edge of her jaw. It felt like fire.

"No," he murmured quietly. "Sapphires I think. In your hair, in your ears, cascading across your collarbones. To compliment your eyes. I can only imagine how brightly they'd glitter against a brilliant blue gown. How lovely would it be, to accompany you to the seamstress, to find the perfect hue. Like a goddess wrapped in midnight, come to tempt me into darkness."

Caroline was lost. Lost in his words, his beautifully evasious words that painted the most beautifully elaborate pictures. More vibrant, more visual then the countless artists she'd championed over the years. He spun them into the fantasy, she was there with him, glowing in the firelight of the study at Forbes house, standing on the pedestal of her seamstress while he watched as she was fitted into a deliciously decadent gown. Watching her, always watching her, just the way he was now. The way he had after she'd foolishly kissed him in the hallway.

As if he desired her.

As if he wanted nothing but her.

Desire, hard and desperate. The type of desire she had felt only on lonely nights in the solace of her bedroom, when she'd allowed herself to succumb to the fantasies she'd yearned for. Of love, of carnal pleasure.

This was dangerous, he was dangerous.

She had intended to take a lover, to finally explore the physical pleasures that she'd been curious about over the years since the lackluster transaction that had been their wedding night. To learn, to love, to grow. That lover however, was not supposed to be her husband. That was dangerous for a variety of reasons. Dangerous because at one time in her life she'd considered herself wildly in love with him, and he's shattered the illusions of what love truly was.

She desired her husband. But she could not trust him. And she could not separate the two.

She knew that she could not. Her heart, her mind would not allow it. So as appealing of a picture as he made looking down at her, his gaze intent on her lips, his body warming hers simply by being near her, he was a picture that she could not succumb too.

How easily would it be for her to simply fall back in love with this man?

How completely would the two memories, the one of him in her youth and the one of him now, tempting her towards ruin, the one who kissed her with reckless abandon, ensnare her. He would devour her if she ceded to the daring invitation glittering in the midnight of his eyes. She knew that, he would own her completely. Not just her name, not just her reputation, he would own her very soul.

Caroline could not do that. Not when the motivations regarding their reconciliation were still so unclear.

He looked like he was going to kiss her again, as his thumb and forefinger tented along the line of her jaw, angling her jaw up to look directly up into his fathomless eyes. His gaze flitted along her face, cataloguing the small portions of her features that he could see. They settled on her lips, parted, arching. He was going to kiss her - Here, in a gaming hell on St. James Street, in front of all of these people.

The solicitor appeared at their side, a rack of chips clasped firmly between both of his hands. The short portly man barely paid Caroline a lick of notice, instead presenting the rack to Niklaus who, other than a look of mild irritation, looked entirely nonplussed by the situation. Caroline took a small, calculated step back effectively severing the moment that was transpiring between them.

"Thank you," Niklaus removed the rack from the man's hands, taking a single chip from the formed holder and placing it in the solicitor's palm. The man bowed, his eyes turning downward as he excused himself. Her husband watched the man go for a moment, before fixing his attention back onto her fully. She resisted the urge to shiver as a wicked grin broke across his face.

"Now sweetheart, what shall we try first?"

Klaus thought that the Caroline currently sitting opposite him in his carriage, the one he'd spent the afternoon with at White's, might be his favorite.

She was beaming, the mask that had been hiding her features discarded on the seat next to her. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and he couldn't help his answering smile as he mindlessly watched her titter on about their afternoon. They'd played craps for a bit, losing a bit of blunt, but Caroline had liked throwing the dice down the table. They didn't have much luck with poker either. Not surprisingly, it was roulette that ended up being her game of choice. She had won during the first round at the table, and the look on her face, the pretty 'o' of surprise her mouth had formed into, the dancing happiness in her eyes as she turned nearly giddy had prompted them to stay at the table, probably longer then they ought. When they won, she would jump, clap her hands feverishly as she'd turn to him he particulars.

He couldn't help but get swept away with her. They'd ordered another round of drinks while they played.

Halfway through the second glass of wine Caroline's reactions became a fraction more animated, and as she brought the glass to her lips and took a small sip he pulled the glass delicately from her hand. "I wasn't finished."

He leaned forward, partially because of the subject of the conversation and partially because since the second she'd pressed her lips to his in the back room he'd been eager to do the very same thing again. To get any portion of him as close to her as he could possible get. "I think you've had enough, love."

Her lips tugged up into what he could only describe as a smirk, "I'll have you know I am perfectly capable of holding my spirits."

He grinned, "Is that so?"

"Yes," she replied primly. Too primly for a Lady of the Ton wearing a mask in a gaming hell.

"I'd ask if you'd care to wager on the fact, but I think that I'd rather save you the headache of over imbibing."

Her smiled curved on her lips as her body swayed towards him, he shuffled closer. "How thoughtful. I wouldn't want to commandeer a wayward coach on our way home."

He pulled his face into a faux serious frown, as he brought her wine glass up to his own lips. He turned the glass so he settled his mouth directly over where she'd just taken a sip, "It's very dangerous I've heard."

A flush bloomed from the edge of her gown, just the smallest touch of pink to her beautifully alabaster skin. She looked at him, eyes cloudy, lips parted, until she seemed to catch herself and she pulled her features back together. She rolled her eyes, and swatted playfully at his hand before focusing back on the Croupier. They played off and on for another hour. Caroline was sparse with the chips, which he found amusing beyond all measure after their earlier conversation. In the end, between their wins and losses they only were down twenty pounds from the original two hundred.

He'd had worse nights. He'd had much worse nights, but he could undoubtedly argue that he had not had many better.

They'd had the footman pull around their carriage and once they were safely secreted inside, had removed their masks.

Caroline was glowing, whether it was from the drink or from the experience as a whole he didn't know, but he didn't care a wit either way.

He basked in it, in the happy lull of her voice, of the warmth from her smile directed towards him.

"I don't think I've ever enjoyed myself more in my entire life. Wait till I tell Elena, she'll be positively green with envy. Can we go back someday, Nik?"

His pulse jumped at the familiar moniker of his name. She rarely shortened his name, and he found that he rather liked the way it sounded coming from her incredibly distracting lips. "Of course Sweetheart, whenever you'd like. I'm at your disposal."

She beamed brighter and he fought the urge to move across the carriage, to slip into the seat next to her, to take her face in his hands and to reaffirm that she tasted just as sweet as she had the first time they'd kiss.

But he didn't. He simply watched her.

Watched her recount the winnings, the rules of some of the games, the dresses some of the ladies wore, the taste of the wine.

With a few more days like today, he was quite certain that it was only a matter of time before he'd properly wooed his wife.

"Would you like to change before dinner?" He asked as they entered their townhome. It had only been a week, but the household had been running as if there were never a time that the master was not in residence there. His staff had woven seamlessly with the Countesses staff, his things intermixed with her own. They'd even had plenty of room to stable some of his favored horses at the stables. It was almost as if the house had been waiting for him to arrive over the last few years, and the fact that their life could mesh so seamlessly pleased him. Unnaturally so.

The flush on Caroline's cheeks had dimmed, the effect of the wine she'd drank while they'd been out having ebbed as time wore on. Food would only aid in her recovery, and with a proper meal she wouldn't even feel the sting of her indulgence tomorrow.

"I may take a tray in my room."

He frowned, "A pity."

She scoffed, but the look on her face stayed the same, pleased and content that it had been nearly all day. "Not because of the company I assure you, but today has been..." She wiggled her fingers from her gloves, letting each of the dainty digits free from their confines one finger at a time, "...exhiliarating, if not a little exhausting. In fact, I'm not so certain I'll make it through my meal without falling asleep into my plate. I would not want to insult you by not being attentive during dinner."

Her tone was light, playful, so he took his chances with tossing a small jibe her way, "All the things you've said to me love, and you think you falling asleep would offend me?" He barely saw the stain of her embarrassment before she dipped her chin to her chest. This time he didn't fight the urge to reach out, to lightly hook his finger under her chin and bring her gaze back to his. Her cheeks were stained a winsome shade of pink, one that perfectly matched the petals of her lips. She opened her mouth, to say something, by the glint in her eye, he assumed it was to apologize and he quickly continued, "I'm teasing you sweetheart. If you'd be more comfortable having dinner in your room, then of course I urge you to do so."

Her lashes fluttered, "Thank you Niklaus."

"Nik," he corrected her suddenly.

She nodded, "Nik."

She took a single step up the staircase towards where their chambers were, vacant but significantly connected. She stalled, turning so that she faced him once more. It was impossible not to notice what the addition of that step did to their person's. How her lips would now line up directly with his own if he were to take a step forward, to wrap an arm around the slight circle of her waist and pull her into his chest. If he were to angle her head just so, just the way he wanted her, he could take her mouth in another heady kiss.

"Would you like to ride with me tomorrow?"

Her question caught him off guard. His eyebrows rose as he considered it. Since his arrival to the house she had not broke the boundary of her resolve to invite him on one of her excursions. He'd always been the one extending the proverbial olive branch, inquiring about her plans, if she'd mind the addition of his company. He considered the invitation a significant step forward, one that he didn't intend to squander.

"I'd love too."

"I ride early. I hope that won't be an imposition."

He knew that. Jeremy had kept him a breath of her movements. Most days she rose much earlier then nearly anyone he'd ever heard of to go for a ride in Hyde park. He didn't prefer the location himself, but he supposed that an early morning ride might offer something he had yet to experience. Uninterrupted time with his wife included.

"Hardly. I look forward to it."

"Wonderful. Then I shall see you tomorrow morning. Good Evening Nik."

He did take a step then, reaching out for her ungloved hand. He took the delicate skin lightly in his own as he brought her knuckles to his mouth. He brushed his lips along the ridge of her fingers. He watched as her eyes fixed on the connection. Her own lips parted, her eyelids lowering as the kiss lingered on her bare skin. Long. Longer then would ever be deemed proper for anyone other then a husband and wife.

"Sleep well Caroline," he murmured huskily.

He knew, he knew without a doubt that he could have eliminated the space between them, pulled her into his arms and once again got lost in the sinewy sweetness of her mouth.

Instead he stepped away, bowing reverently as he turned towards his study.

A smile curling on his lips.

He had plenty of time after all.

And his wife, he was certain was worth the wait.