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Scandal of the Season

Now that the reveals are out, I can post the fic I wrote for @honestgrins for the Klaroline Vacay exchange. This is the first 1000+ word regency fic I’ve written, and I loved every second of it. It fed my historical trashmance addiction to no end.

---

“It’s quite scandalous, isn’t it? The woman they’re written to will be quite ruined when she’s discovered.”

“She’s going to be a whore, Elena.”

“Katherine-”

“What? She is. No respectable gentleman would write such things to a lady.”

Caroline Mikaelson – once Forbes, before her marriage eighteen months previous – set her tea cup aside and carefully patted her lips with a carefully embroidered handkerchief. She knew the embroidery was done carefully, because she had done it herself, as she had the other embroidery on the pillows and the window silks that decorated the sitting room that was considered her domain. She watched her friends continue their argument for a moment, a small smile quirking her lips. One could always count on Elena and Katherine’s arguments to be amusing, and the quick glance Bonnie shot her said she was thinking the same.

“Perhaps the gentleman isn’t respectable,” Caroline said at last, breaking into the argument. She considered the small plate of finger sandwiches that had been delivered by the maid when her friends had arrived. She let out a small breath of discontent, because biscuits would have gone much better with the tea.

“Are you trying to say that some sailor’s letter has been published?” Bonnie asked, raising her dark brows. “I’ve read enough love letters to know how a gentleman writes, and this one does so perfectly.”

Bonnie would know such things, being courted as she was by both Caroline’s brother-in-law, Kol, and Lord Lorenzo, heir to the Earl of Greysville. Last Caroline heard, they were both writing her poetry that she refused to share, even with her best friends.

“I didn’t say he wasn’t a gentleman, I said perhaps he wasn’t respectable.”

“I wonder who the woman is,” Elena interjected, holding the paper up. “I can’t wait to bare your breasts to the world again, my Love, and to taste them… to see them flush pink with your desire and need, as you breathe out my name in a helpless whimper” – Elena shivered, but she managed to put on a scandalized expression – “whomever she is, she must be completely devastated, to have a man write to her in such… vulgarterms.”

“I told you, Elena – she’s a –“

“Good afternoon, ladies.”

Caroline came to her feet at the entrance of her husband, which prevented Katherine from scandalizing her twin again. She held out her hand, smiling as Klaus pressed a kiss to her knuckles, a shiver running down her spine when his tongue flicked out against her knuckles. None of her friends could tell, of course, but Caroline still felt a thrill at the thought that they might, at any time, be caught.

“You’re home early,” she said, holding her skirts so she could give him the slightest of curtsies. When she straightened, Klaus’ eyes shot up from the décolletage exposed by her gown, and met hers, while his lips curved into the smirk that had once made her slap him, but now made her want to touch him in far more… intimate ways.

“We were discussing the paper,” she said, keeping her eyes wide and innocent. “It’s quite the scandal.”

“Caroline,” Elena hissed from behind her. Klaus raised a brow at her, and Caroline looked over her shoulder to see her friend standing, dropping into a deep curtsey. She was the most proper of them all, after all. “Your Grace, we shouldn’t bother you with such simple gossip. You’re a busy man.”

“Never too busy for my wife, Madame Salvatore,” Klaus replied, and he had already dismissed Caroline’s friends in his mind, all his attention focused on her. “In fact, I need to borrow her for a moment.”

Caroline swallowed at the dark promise in her husband’s eyes, and she felt herself go damp at the thought of being pressed into the wall by Klaus’ lean body, his solid warmth pressed to her.

“We’ll go,” Bonnie declared, and Caroline jolted in surprise. Bonnie actually rolled her eyes while Caroline grinned at her sheepishly, not bothering to pretend as though she hadn’t forgotten about her friends’ presence entirely.

“Our tea,” Caroline replied, in a half-hearted attempt to act the part of hostess.

“I’ve had enough,” Katherine declared after looking between Bonnie and Caroline with a narrow-eyed look for a moment. “Your tea is awful anyway.”

“Kat-”

“My tea is not awful,” Caroline shot at Katherine, cutting Elena off. Nothing irritated her like a dig at her ability to hostess, something of which Kat was very much aware. “You’re just jealous of my cook.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Caroline m’dear. Someday, perhaps it will be true.”

Caroline scowled, and would have followed the girls as Katherine herded them to the front door, just to prove a point. But there was a heavy sigh, from behind her, and then an arm wrapped around her waist and tugged her against a warm chest. Klaus’ breath was warm on her hear as he tugged her earlobe between his teeth.

“You can argue with Katherine any time, Sweetheart. I, however, am in need of you now.” His tongue soothed over the slight pain his bite had caused, and Caroline let him turn her in his arms. He brushed his fingers against her cheek, and she turned into his touch. “I missed you while I was gone.”

“You always miss me. Although I sometime believe it’s only parts of me.”

“Should we have an in depth conversation on politics, so I can prove to you how I value your mind as well? Perhaps we can discuss the latest bill brought to the Lords.”

“We could,” Caroline agreed, tangling her finger in his hair and tugging him down for a kiss. She sucked his lower lip, and tugged on it with her teeth. When they broke apart, she pressed soft kisses to the abused surface. “Or, we could speak about gossip.”

Klaus winced slightly at Caroline’s words, even though she had released her grip on his hair, and taken a step back to cross her arms.

“Now, Caroline-”

“I told you we should burn those letters, Klaus! Amusing as Elena’s scandalized expression was, what do you think Mikael will do if he realizes who wrote them? Or even worse, when they were written.”

“Most likely he would disown me, which he has already done… can a man be disowned more than once?” Klaus’ expression was thoughtful, as though he were truly considering the rules of disownment, and Caroline scowled.

“Klaus, that is not the topic of concern at the moment!”

Caroline had stomped closer to him in her irritation, her hands clutching her skirts. Klaus looked at her, a smirk slowly curving his lips. Caroline’s scowl faded, as she tried to figure out what he was plotting.

When she found herself scooped up in his arms, her skirts crushed by his hold, she shrieked.

“Niklaus! Put me down.”

“Never,” he purred in response. “It took me entirely too long to get you where I wanted you.”

Caroline knew it wasn’t at all proper, for a woman to let her husband whisk her off to their bedroom in his arms in the middle of the day. But truthfully, if she had wanted proper, she would have married Tyler Lockwood and lain meekly on her back for him, on the nights he wasn’t off with his mistress.

She much preferred her husband and his life of sin of pleasure… even if that sin and pleasure was currently the great topic of gossip amongst the Ton.

---

Klaus stroked a hand down Caroline’s arm, and smiled when she murmured and burrowed closer to him.

She was a passionate woman, his wife, and had ridden him into exhaustion. Now, Klaus simply enjoyed holding her close. He breathed deep, inhaling her scent – Caroline adored rose water, it had been one of the first things Klaus had noticed about her. Being with her went a long ways towards calming his wild emotions.

He’d had lunch with Finn and Elijah, his elder half-brothers, in an attempt to heal the rift the revelation of Klaus’ true paternity had caused. The day Ansel had died, Klaus had gained a dukedom, but he’d also been disowned by the only family he’d ever known. It had been Caroline, who had convinced Klaus to try and rebuild burned bridges with his siblings.

He’d had great success with Rebekah and Kol, but Finn and Elijah were more proper, and more bitter that the family’s black sheep was a duke, out ranking anything the other two could ever hope to become.

“Your thinking is disturbing my sleep, Klaus.”

“Perhaps that was the point,” Klaus replied, ducking his head to press a kiss to her shoulder. “Your Lord and Master demands to be serviced.”

“My Lord and Master had best re-think calling himself that.”

She sat up, holding the blankets to her chest. Klaus scowled at the material keeping her hidden from him, and Caroline rolled her eyes.

“You visited with Elijah and Finn today. I am not simple minded, Klaus. You enjoy bedding me, but you rarely come home in the afternoon unable to wait until tea is done before you can have me. They upset you.” Caroline rested her chin on his chest, eyes surveying him critically. “If you wish, I can shoot them.”

Klaus chuckled at that, a memory of Caroline in a lovely blue frock as she looked at him down the barrel of a pistol flashing through his mind. No one would ever call their courtship boring.

“No, you can leave the shooting of my difficult brothers to me, should it come to it.” He twined one of her curls – sadly abused and beginning to droop after their lovemaking – around his finger. “But your worries of earlier weren’t entirely misplaced. I do not give a damn for Mikael’s opinion, but if Elijah or Finn realizes the letter is mine…”

“At best, they will judge us with their foolish, judgement faces. At best, they will tell Rebekah and Kol they may no longer interact with us.”

“Kol won’t listen, of course, and he no longer relies on father to give him an allowance. But Rebekah is still dependant until she marries. She’ll be forced to listen.”

“And that will hurt you,” Caroline added, brushing her fingers over Klaus’ cheeks. Her expression went hard, a look that suited his wife – normally made of sunshine and laughter – very poorly. “Well then. I’m shooting them.”

Caroline made to clamber from the bed, and Klaus grabbed her by the waist, rolling them until he was braced over her. There were a hundred well thought out arguments Klaus could put forward to keep her from murder, and several lewd proposals he could make to just keep her in his bed. But when he looked down at her, it was none of them he spoke.

“Stay with me, Love,” he said simply. “Just… stay.”

“You ruin my anger every time,” she grumbled. “It is hardly fair, Klaus. You get to be made all the time.”

“Only because I have you to smooth things over.”

Her breath huffed against his chest, but she let him pull her back into cuddling without argument.

“How did the Post even get that letter?” she demanded at last. “I thought we had them all hidden away.”

“I may have… lost one.”

Caroline’s bewildered expression over her shoulder said more than words ever could.

“I was visiting Evamshire, when your mother was ill, remember? Since I didn’t have you, I required something else to remind me of you.”

“So you took one of the letters you wrote? Really, Klaus, were mine not good enough?”

“You always use euphemisms,” Klaus complained. “Or refer to our lovemaking as that night or in Lord Salvatore’s blue parlor. I required a more vivid picture.”

“And then you lost it,” Caroline grumbled. “Do you see now why I said we couldn’t sign them?”

“Indeed, m’dear.” Klaus pressed a kiss below her ear. “You are quite brilliant.”

Caroline sighed happily as he continued to kiss her, and reached behind him to take his member in her palm, stroking him with a confidence borne of months of love making.

“And don’t you forget it,” she growled, turning to him so they could be distracted by other, far more enjoyable, endeavors.

---

Caroline knew that Klaus wasn’t particularly upset by his letter being published. He would probably see it as some foolish sign of his masculine achievements. But she also knew that the break in his family upset him more than he would acknowledge, and that being barred from a relationship with Rebekah would devastate him.

Besides, Caroline had worked damn hard for that relationship to be possible, and she’d be damned if some Ton gossip sheet destroyed it. Still, for Caroline to go right to the source would be all but admitting the truth of whom the letter was written to.

But, Caroline had an ace in the hole she fully intended to use.

“So, that letter-”

“Yes, Bonnie.”

“Then Klaus-”

“Yes, Bonnie.”

“Oh… my. I mean, that is… does it feel… pleasant, then?”

Caroline sipped her tea and raised her brow at her friend. She could imagine what Bonnie was trying to get at, but if the other woman couldn’t get the words out, then she most likely wasn’t ready to have the question answered.

“I mean, the letter… does he really taste your… breasts?”

“I know Kol. I know Enzo. Have neither of them ever mentioned it in that poetry they’re writing it?”

It was always difficult to tell when Bonnie blushed, but when Caroline spotted the faint red hue, she felt slightly smug.

“Yes, well… it’s poetry. The lewd topics are hidden by flowery prose. That letter, however? It’s very… bold. I didn’t realize men wrote such things to their wives.”

It was Caroline’s turn to flush and attempt to hide her face behind her tea cup.

“You’re blushing. Why are you blushing? I’ll admit it’s a bit… unusual for a husband to show such passion for their wife but – oh… oh. Is Klaus writing this to his mistress? Oh, Caro-”

“No!” Caroline’s spine went steel straight, and tea threatened to slosh over the side of her cup. She set it aside hastily and smoothed her hands over her skirts, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “No. Klaus has no mistress – trust me, he wouldn’t dare. I just…” Caroline hesitated, because the truth of that letter, it wasn’t as simple as a man unfashionably in lust with his wife. The truth was a little more salacious than that, but this was Bonnie, and of all her friends, Bonnie was the single one actually capable of keeping a secret, including Caroline herself. “TheletterwasnotwrittenwhileIwashiswife.”

Bonnie blinked and set her own tea aside to lean forward.

“Could you repeat that?”

“The letter,” Caroline said, carefully enunciating through gritted teeth. “It was not written while I was his wife.”

“Oh.” Bonnie sat in long silence. “But… if it’s to you, and you weren’t his wife, then… oh dear.”

“Yes,” Caroline agreed. “Oh dear. But Bonnie – should the identity of the author be discovered, the timing cannot. The scandal will be bad enough, and Klaus and I will ride it out either way, but-”

“Rebekah won’t,” Bonnie said simply.

“Rebekah won’t,” Caroline agreed. “And it’s imperative to my husband that this not harm Rebekah. We’ve only just begun to mend those relationships.”

“You mean you’ve only just begun to mend those bridges. If Klaus had his way, he’d still be a cold, lonely man separated from his siblings.” Bonnie blew out a heavy breath, contemplating all that she learned. “Well. We need to discover the source.”

“Can you do it?” Caroline asked, leaning forward to grip Bonnie’s hand with her own.

“Alone? Not at all. But luckily for us, there is a thief that is rather fond of us both. But you’ll have to negotiate. He always tries to use these things to black mail me into accepting his proposal.”

---

Lorenzo St. John, future Earl of Greysville, had a multitude of talents uncommon to a man who would someday be a member of the House of Lords.

But then, most Lords weren’t running con games in Paris from the time they were able to walk.

Though most of the Ton had no idea of the details of his less than savoury past, they were aware he hadn’t been raised like them, and it left him as somewhat of an outcast. That hadn’t mattered to one Caroline Forbes, however, who had risked her own reputation as a single lady to save Enzo’s neck. Of course, rather than ending up with him, as she would in one of the naughty novels so many ladies read, she had wound up a Duchess.

Enzo might have been bitter, except that he’d been rather more interested in Miss Bonnie Bennett anyway.

And now, his debt was being called in for feminine intrigue, and there was really nothing he could do about it.

“Your husband could have been more circumspect, Gorgeous,” Enzo grumbled when the situation had been laid out before him. “This is hardly the type of matter that will do anything for my vanity.”

“Oh, would you prefer someone be on death row?” Caroline replied, raising her brows. “Perhaps wrongfully accused of the single crime that someone didn’t commit? Oh, wait… that did happen. It was you. And because of me, now it is not. Me and Klaus.”

“Klaus and me,” Bonnie corrected automatically, and it made Enzo chuckle, because the young lady always became so very proper around him. Even though they sat discussing theft and blackmail, she still appeared so very prim.

�� Yet, she hadn’t yet slapped him for the naughty poetry he’d sent her – or Kol Mikaelson for the same. It was a damn shame the other man was so competitive. They might have found a middle ground otherwise.

“You heard, her, Gorgeous. Klaus and me.” Enzo grinned as Caroline rolled her eyes. “Now, ‘m not the type to patter about grammar. But if you need some intimidation done, then I suppose I can help you out. For a price.”

His gaze drifted to Bonnie, who crossed her arms and scowled at him. He winked at her in return, and she turned her head from him with a huff.

“Eyes on me, Lorenzo. And what do you mean – for a price? I saved your rotten life!”

He had to admit, Caroline was rather magnificent when she was angered. Her eyes flashed, and her cheeks flushed, and Enzo acknowledged that Klaus was a damn lucky man. He was also a man willing to live on the edge, because had Enzo married Caroline as he’d originally planned, one of them – most likely him – would be dead now.

“Well, what do you expect me to do? Risk my neck in this little scheme for free? In case you’ve forgotten, playing Lord Raider nearly got me hung once already!”

Caroline and Bonnie exchanged looks, and Enzo was witness to one of their rare moments of silent conversation. Caroline’s nose crinkled, Bonnie’s brow furrowed, until at last, as one, they turned back to him.

“I will let you have two waltzes, one of which will be the supper dance, at Caroline and Klaus’ ball. You will keep your hands in exactly the correct positions, and I will deign to allow you to dine next to me,” Bonnie offered at last.

“Oh, you’ll deign to sit next to me, Miss Bennet?” Enzo gave her a dry look, before letting out a huff of laughter. “I do enjoy you, Bonnie. But no need to sacrifice yourself in such a horrid fashion. Who am I blackmailing?”

“Intimidating,” Caroline corrected, her lips curving into a sheepish smile Enzo knew meant trouble. “And that’s part of the issue… we’re not entirely sure. You need to help us find that out too.”

Bonnie added her own, more half-hearted smile to Caroline’s, and Enzo groaned and slumped down.

“Bloody hells. Fine. Now begone with you whilst I plot.”

---

Klaus had suspected that Caroline was up to something. Her kiss as he had left had been distracted, and if it weren’t for a promise to meet Kol, he would have never let her get away with such distraction. He much preferred her to admire him as he deserved.

Suspicion turned to certainty when Lorenzo St. John took the seat across from him, the one Kol had abandoned just moments earlier.

“That brother of yours certainly does enjoy the sound of his own voice, does he not?”

“If you’re looking for my assistance in beating him out at wooing Miss Bennet” - Klaus paused for a second, because truth be told, Kol did like the sound of his own voice, and had a habit of being a prat… but he was also the only brother willing to speak to Klaus, and he released a heavy sigh as he imagined Caroline’s reaction to learning Klaus had plotted against him, even if it was with Enzo, whom his wife was entirely too fond of – “he is my brother, and so I wish him happy. Or something.”

“Or something,” Enzo agreed dryly, raising a dark brow in amusement. “As it is, I’m not here for your help in courtship. You’re quite terrible at it.”

“Excuse me?” Klaus replied, feeling his spine stiffen at the accusation. “Which of us is it that is married? Because I appear to be enjoying wedded bliss while the object of your affections flutters her lashes at my brother.”

“Gorgeous is odd,” Enzo gave an easy shrug. “She’s American. Not her fault. You were just lucky to find the one woman who could see your… Klaus-ness as charming.”

“As always, St. John, it’s been a pleasure. But I believe I have other urgent matters to attend… such as not throwing you through a window.”

Enzo looked at the nearby window, eyes narrowed contemplatively, as though considering the likelihood of Klaus being able to toss him through it. Klaus rolled his eyes and stood; why his wife tolerated the other man, he would never understand. Perhaps one of those Amerianisms that Enzo claimed allowed her to find Klaus charming.

“Caroline wants me to go back to my… old ways.”

The quietly hissed words had Klaus dropping back into his seat.

“Dammit,” Klaus growled, closing his eyes and praying for the patience to survive disobedient wives. “I told her not to worry about the matter.”

“Yes, and she agreed and went to meekly embroidering handkerchiefs and drinking tea, giving the matter of salacious gossip nary another thought,” Enzo agreed. “That so sounds like the Gorgeous I know.”

“Must you persist in acting as though you know my wife better than I?” Klaus demanded, his eyes snapping open to glare at Enzo. “You don’t. Obviously, this is not unexpected. I just thought I had more… time.”

Caroline liked her plots to be well concocted. For her to have acted on this one already meant she must have been making it – her brilliant mind whirling madly – even as she had voiced her concerns to him.

She had damn well have not been plotting while they’d been making love.

“Well as it is, I’ll be taking care of it for you. Or rather, Lord Raider will. I just wanted to let you know, in case the worst happens and I’m looking at the hangman’s noose again.” Enzo actually looked rather irritated at the thought, and Klaus smirked, hoping it that it galled the other man, to remember that he still owed Klaus a debt that could likely never be repaid. “If it does come to that, you’ll have to play the imperious duke and get me out.”

“Again,” Klaus added, with what was meant to be benign smile, though he suspected it bared too many of his teeth.

“Again,” Enzo agreed, his own smile equally as pleasant. “Though this time, it will be on your behalf, so I certainly hope no debt will be incurred.”

Klaus leaned back in his chair and contemplated the other man. He didn’t particularly like St. John – though admittedly, he didn’t particularly dislike him either – but he could acknowledge that Lorenzo had been a good friend to Caroline, particularly when she had arrived on the scene, a nouveau riche outcast from America who was a little too… American to truly fit in with the other debutantes.

Klaus had immediately been infatuated, but he would admit it was Enzo, with his charm, looks, and money, who had eased Caroline’s way significantly in those first weeks before Klaus had managed to flirt his way into her bed and, eventually, into being her husband.

The other man owed him nothing; saving him had been for Caroline, and for what he had done for Caroline… not that he would ever tell Enzo that. Still, allowing any one else to play the hero for Caroline in need… the thought didn’t appeal to Klaus at all.

“Well,” he said after a moment, giving a sharp nod as he made his decision. “This go ‘round, I suppose we’ll have to hope our lovely ladies are able to save us, as if you’re hanging, I very likely will be as well. How exactly do we become… Lord Raider.”

Enzo stared at him in silence, before abruptly burying his face in his hands with a pained groan.

“Lord above, what have I unleashed?”

---

Logan Fell loathed the nobility – really, he loathed any sort of gentry at all. Mostly, it was due to jealousy.

Partly, it was because he’d once tried to seduce a Lady of the Gilbert family, only for the Lady in question to marry a far richer, noblerman and her brother-in-law to lay Logan out and otherwise ruin his life.

Now, he wrote for a gossip rag and spent most of his time completely done on whiskey.

That was, until he received the letter.

It was the talk of the Ton, and while it might not be the fine literature Logan had always imagined he would write, it had gotten him a raise. Plus, out there some nob would be pissing his pants in fear of being revealed, and Logan would be the one to reveal him – and his lady love.

Yes, Logan felt quite good about his lot in life, and even whistled as he made his way toward the tavern.

He didn’t even see the man until he was pushed against an alley wall, a sword at his throat. He recognized the black mask, however, and felt his stomach churn.

“Lord Raider… impossible. You’re dead.”

“Rumors of my demise are greatly overstated.”

It wasn’t the man holding a sword to Logan’s throat, but a second Lord Raider that spoke. He also held a sword, which he swung absent-mindedly as he considered Logan – or at least, Logan assumed he was being looked at. It was difficult to be sure with the mask.

“You released a letter,” the first man said, his voice rather guttural, though still clearly well-educated. “Where did you get it?”

“I can’t tell you,” Logan replied, shivers overtaking his body as the grip on him tightened.

“That is a poor decision, Mr. Fell. While I myself don’t condone murder, I don’t think my friend gives a damn about your continued survival,” mused the second man, the one that claimed to be the true Lord Raider.

“I don’t know,” Logan sobbed when he felt the rapier break skin. “I swear it. I never met the man. He delivered the letters anonymously and wished me well, but he had to have been high class.”

“Why would you say that?” asked Lord Raider, genuine curiosity in his voice while the first man just growled.

“The money he gave me. Only you rich lords can afford to pay a man to gossip,” Logan replied bitterly, and then gave an embarrassingly high squeal when the grip on him tightened even further, and he began to worry he would need a doctor to stitch him.

“Who cares about the difficulties of the pathetic?” the first man hissed. “You said letters. Where are the others?”

Logan intended to keep his silence – he would only receive his raise and the extra money promised him once all the letters were published – but then the man tilted his head, until Logan was forced to meet his eyes, visible through the mask.

He couldn’t tell the color, but he could clearly see his death there.

He rattled off his address.

“Please don’t kill me,” Logan begged when he was done. The man stared at him for another moment, before tossing him aside.

“He’s all yours,” the man said to Lord Raider. “Alive as well. Remember that, when confirmation is requested.”

He left, disappearing as easily as he’d first appeared, leaving Logan and Lord Raider behind. Logan still sobbed, and could tell he’d soiled his pants – a humiliating situation. Lord Raider looked after his companion a moment, then to Logan. He took out a bag of coins and tossed it next to Logan.

“I recommend using it to leave the country. My friend left you alive tonight. That may not extend to tomorrow. He is rather excellent at holding grudges.”

Then Lord Raider left as well. For a moment, Logan felt defiance rise, bravery returning now that he was alone, and he thought he would stay, nobility be damned.

But then he remembered the look in the man’s eyes, the one that promised pain and darkness, and he shivered.

Defiance be damned, Logan Fell would go to America and live.

---

The candle in their room was still lit.

Klaus entered the room, and Caroline looked up from her novel. She was in her dressing gown, her hair hanging over one shoulder in a long, loose braid, curled in a chair by the fireplace, one that Klaus knew to be incredibly uncomfortable. Klaus imagined that had been the point, as when she looked at him, her eyes were fatigued, but the chair would have kept her awake.

“It’s done,” he said, and then, after a moment of hesitation, he pulled the other letters out of his jacket. “He had more.”

Caroline took them from him. She unfolded one, read it over.

“Some of them are mine,” she noted. And though her language had been more flowery, some of them had been written before their marriage, were suggestive enough to cause issues. “Is Mr. Fell alive?”

“Yes. You can even ask Enzo.”

Caroline actually chuckled at his response. She climbed to her feet and stepped to the fireplace. She tossed the letters onto the flame, and Klaus stepped up behind her, close enough that their bodies touched, to watch them burn.

“I don’t need to ask Enzo, you foolish man. You may not always do things I approve of, but I know you’ll never lie to me about them.” She turned towards him and reached up to tug the mask from his face and tossed it into the flames as well. His face bare, she cupped it and pulled him in for a kiss. It began sweetly, but passion, as always, quickly flared between them.

“I shouldn’t do this with you now,” he murmured against her skin. “I nearly killed a man mere hours ago.”

“If you avoided making love to me every time you nearly killed a man, I would still be a virgin,” she responded cheekily, her hands sliding the buttons on his trousers open until she loosed his cock. “Don’t pretend to be anything other than what you are with me, Klaus. I may not always like it, and I will tell you when I don’t, but I will always choose the ugliest truth over a pretty lie.”

She backed him up, and he let her push him into the chair she’d left. She paused in front of him, pulling up the skirts of her dressing gown and night shift, before she straddled him, his cock settling in the cleft of her thighs. She kissed him again, holding his face in her hands once more, and Klaus’ settled on her hips, helping to guide her until he slid inside of her. She welcomed him, wet and warm, and Klaus growled into their kiss.

“I love you,” Caroline murmured, pulling back from their kiss to rest her forehead against his.

“And I, you,” Klaus replied, his hands moving from her hips to undo her dressing gown and push it from her shoulders. He then pushed her shift down to bare her breasts, as Caroline began to rock her hips.

When he took her nipple between his lips, she actually let out a curse, making Klaus smirk into her skin. He loved it when she cursed during their lovemaking; the unruly American she hid so well behind the Duchess’ façade coming to the forefront in her pleasure.

“God, Klaus,” she hissed out.

“I do like to be your God, Caroline,” Klaus replied.

She probably would have been irritated by that, but Klaus had grasped her hips and angled his own, helping to increase their movements. After that, neither of them could form words. Their breath put instead towards grunts and moans and, occasionally, the others name spoken like a prayer.

Her fingers bit into his shoulders almost painfully as she came apart, and Klaus let out a series of curses as he found his own release, holding her tightly to him. Caroline released her grip, instead holding him in an embrace.

“How did he get them?” Caroline asked.

“He didn’t know,” Klaus replied, still feeling rather grim.

Caroline said nothing, but Klaus knew his wife well, knew her mind was whirling.

“Hmmm,” she murmured.

“What has your brilliant mind concluded?”

She pulled back from him, her hands resting on his shoulders.

“Do you trust me?” she asked.

It was on the tip of Klaus’ tongue to make a blasé remark, but Caroline’s expression made him hesitate, and instead grasp her hand, and press a warm kiss to her palm.

“Without reserve.”

Klaus was quite sure he would follow her into hell without reservation, if it meant she continued to smile at him like that.

---

Mikael Mikaelson sneered at Caroline when she was let into his study.

It didn’t bother her. After all, he was an asshole, and despite his distaste for her and his hatred of Klaus, he had still allowed her entrance.

The power, she supposed, of being a Duchess.

“What is it that the bastard’s harlot would want with me?” he asked, pure disdain painting his voice.

“I believe you mean the Duchess of Evamshire,” Caroline replied primly, smoothing her skirts. She sat and smiled at Mikael sweetly. “Of course, I could understand how you might make the mistake. A known womanizer and whore chaser would hardly recognize a woman of quality.”

“Excuse me?” Mikael demanded, looming over Caroline. “My reputation is above reproach-”

“It won’t be,” Caroline cut him off coldly. “If you persist in attempting to ruin my husband and myself.”

Mikael glared at her, and she could see him fight an inner battle for a moment - they both knew of what she spoke, and they both knew she had no proof.

But Mikael’s pride and self-satisfaction had always driven him, and his face took on a smug expression.

“The world will know you for the slut you are, and that Niklaus married an American whore because ofwhat she did for him in bed. Sadly, you’ll still be accepted – the safety of the duchy, I suppose – but you’ll both be laughingstocks. And my daughter will finally be forced to repudiate you both.” Mikael raised his brandy in a salute. “As I didn’t drown him at birth, it will have to do.”

“You disgust me,” Caroline said, her voice musing. “And you also won’t win.”

She pulled a letter out of her pelisse, and began to read it. The familiar words of the letter that had been published in the post.

“I don’t need to hear you repeat that disgusting drivel,” Mikael sneered, cutting her off. “Have you no shame, to even acknowledge it?”

“Oh, but, my Lord… it’s not my shame,” Caroline replied with wide-eyed innocence. Then those eyes turned steely, and for the first time Mikael had the sense to appear nervous. “It’s yours. And there’s a woman – Sage – willing to swear you wrote these words to her. A whore. Of course, her son is actually Finn’s, but he won’t acknowledge or help them, and Sage is exactly bitter enough to swear that he is yours as well. He does have the same eyes, after all.”

Mikael stared at her in enraged silence for a moment.

“Of course,” Caroline continued, “Sage’s word probably isn’t enough. But a letter in your own hand writing? That’s a little more telling.”

She turned the letter towards Mikael, a forgery that even his own wife would believe belonged to him.

Mikael leapt for her throat, and Caroline found herself on the floor beneath him, his weight pressing down on her, and for a moment she began to regret this plan.

But then Klaus was there, and Finn and Elijah, pulling their enraged father away, as Klaus held Caroline, and she could gasp desperately for breath. The letter had been discarded, but Klaus saw it, and quickly made it disappear into his jacket.

“Father, what in the word are you doing?”

“That whore… that harlot…!” Mikael couldn’t get any other clear words out, and Caroline shrank into Klaus, clinging to him like the terrified lady that Elijah and Finn would expect her to be.

Finn wrestled his father away, while Elijah looked at Caroline and Klaus with apology in his eyes.

“I just wanted to try and mend the rift,” Caroline said, adding a sniffle, just because it made Elijah soften even further. “I know it bothers Rebekah so.”

“My apologies, Your Grace… Mikael’s behaviour… you were right, Niklaus. I believed I needed to be loyal to father but… dear God, he would have killed your wife.” Elijah looked at Caroline with worry. “Come to dinner on Friday. Father will… I will make sure he’s not here.”

Klaus gave a sharp nod, and they left rapidly, using Klaus’ rage as an easy excuse to retreat.

A rage that was all too real.

“Never again,” Klaus swore, holding Caroline close in the carriage. “Never again will you be near that man.”

“In his defence, I did exactly what I knew would send him into a killing rage,” Caroline pointed out, but her throat was still tender from her near strangulation, and she winced. “But I’m fine with never being near him again.”

“I should have never-”

“It was my idea,” Caroline rested a finger on Klaus’ lips. “I knew you would be there to save me. I never doubted you.”

She may have doubted her plan for a moment, but never Klaus.

“How did you know he’d attack you?” Klaus asked after several moments of silence.

“He is Mikael. And Mikael is not that complicated a man. He takes pride in his belief he is better than everyone else. And I threatened to bring him to the level of us mere mortals. He’d rather die.” Caroline tapped a finger on Klaus’ chest thoughtfully. “But first, he’d rather I die and see if that fixed everything.”

Klaus rested his head on hers, and cuddled her close.

“We’ll burn the letter when we get home,” Caroline stated.

“Indeed, it’s caused us enough trouble.” He sighed heavily. “I suppose this means I can’t write you such things anymore.”

“It does,” Caroline agreed, “but really, it’s for the best.” She tugged him down, so she could nip his earlobe and murmur into his ear. “I like it better when you say them to me anyway.”

Klaus’ lips curled into a smirk, and for the rest of the carriage ride, he murmured every dark, sensual thing he wished to do to her against her skin.

When they reached the house, the servants did not see either of them for the rest of the day.