Dearest Lady Weis,

I do keep lovers to fill my lonely nights. Not merely to warm my bed, but to accompany me when I do not find amusement at Grey's.

Most of them would allow me to talk and tolerate my tales, even laugh at some of them. But I know that their hearts are not fully in place, as is mine.

As days go by, I find myself longing for something else entirely, something quite real. I could not quite fathom it at the moment.

Yours,

William

*****

"When you said we shall talk, you meant we shall talk, yes?" Ysabella asked before they climbed into the carriage.

Wakefield nodded.

"Talk with me saying things while you listen, and you saying things while I listen," she further clarified.

The corner of his lips quirked into a smile, clearly amused. "Yes."

Ysabella sighed and nodded. "Very well, then, I do hope you shall have the patience to listen." He opened the door to the carriage and she pointedly added, "And answer my questions."

Panic crossed his features for a moment before he said, "Yes, Ysabella."

She frowned at him. Something had definitely changed. He was no longer pushing her away, last night being the evidence, of course.

And remembering that night again, she turned to climb into the carriage to hide the flush in her face.

Ysabella willed herself to stay still, feeling quite restless inside as Wakefield talked with the driver and the footmen. When he followed her inside to sit across from her, she swallowed, squared her shoulders and forced her eyes to meet his blue ones.

"Please do not say we shall have to wed because of last night," she blurted out before he could open his mouth to start talking.

The surprise in his eyes was evident and she would have laughed if the carriage did not lurch to a start and she had to hold on to her seat to keep herself steady.

"As I have said, we do not have to marry since I have not compromised you yet," she added once the carriage found its bearing.

His face morphed with an incredulous look at her words. She held her breath as he stared at her for a very long time before speaking. "Do you realize what your brothers would do should they find out about last night?" he asked.

"They would throw up at the knowledge of last night before they hang you for the same thing."

"They are your brothers—"

"They do not have to know," she said with a shrug.

"They would suspect something the moment they find out that we returned to Wickhurst together, alone and without my mother," was his quick response. "Have you told them about your travel arrangements back to Wickhurst?"

Her eyes wavered and she blinked. "No."

"That is why," he said, leaning his arms on his knees to look at her closely, "we should do this properly."

"What do you mean by doing this properly?" she asked and when he found it hard to answer, her eyes widened. Could he be thinking about what she thought he was thinking? "Do you truly mean to marry me?" He opened his mouth to say yes and she knew he was about to say yes, but she could not hear it now. "Why?" she asked before his answer was spoken.

His mouth was left open. The look in his eyes seemed as if he had utterly misplaced his brain somewhere. He could not even answer her!

"Surely someone like you, a rake who had bedded countless lovers before, should know that kissing a lady does not mean compromising her, yes?"

He blinked in confusion. "But is that not what you want? Marry, I mean."

She rolled her eyes in frustration. "Yes, but it is not how I imagined myself to be married!" She scoffed and turned her face away to look out the window. "A kiss and he wants to marry me! How insane could this man be?"

He merely stared at her but Ysabella was not quite sure what he looked like. Was he angry that she refused? Happy that she did? She truly did not wish to know for this was not what she wanted to hear from him.

No, she did not chase him around for years merely to be wed in such an easy manner as a kiss! A kiss!

"I do want to do this the proper way, Ysabella," he began after a while.

She stiffened and turned to face him once again. She did not like the word proper at all. It spoke too much of what the ton lived for their entire lives.

"Pray tell, my lord, why you are saying all these things all of a sudden? Why did you kiss me last night and why are you sitting here with me as if I have never been the greatest nuisance of your life for years until this moment?"

Wakefield sighed and leaned back against his seat. His eyes held hers prisoner.

"Is it because of your brother? Of the courtship between us in Bertram?"

His eyes flickered with annoyance. His jaw tightened. "No."

"Are you certain?"

"I—it is not entirely because of my brother, Ysabella." He ran his hands through his hair and rubbed his face afterward. He groaned and she almost felt sorry for him. His hands helplessly fell and when he opened his eyes, memories of last night flashed in her mind. She felt a current run through her by the intense look on his face. "I want to know you more."

She shook last night off her mind.

Her brow arched, doubtful.

Why did she doubt him now? Should she not be happy that he was saying all these things?

Deep inside, she knew the reason why. He kissed her last night and he did not even recognize her as Lady Weis!

But you wanted him to know you as Ysabella, not her, a voice in her head whispered.

Her jaw tightened. Although she hated to admit it, Ysabella realized that she was still bothered about Lady Weis. He could not recognize the Lady Weis in her. In his mind, they were two separate entities. Did he simply prefer her now because he could not find the other? Did that mean she would never get his full affection because half of it was for Lady Weis?

But YOU are Lady Weis!

But she did not wish to be her any longer. She ought not to care. He would never learn who she was if he would not believe her claims, if he could not see Lady Weis in her.

Ah, bloody hell, this was confusing! She had done this to herself and she knew it!

"I shall court you."

His words did not immediately register to her brain and when they did, Ysabella blinked. "But it is I who is courting you," she said for there was nothing she could think at the moment. What was she to say? I demand that you announce your love? I demand that you recognize me as Lady Weis and fall deeply in love with me? What was she to say, really, but to pretend that she was not as confused as she truly was?

He sighed and closed his eyes. This was difficult for him, she could see it.

Well, it ought to be difficult, she thought. "The very moment we reach Wickhurst, you cease your courtship and I shall begin mine," he said in a domineering voice, one she had not heard before. It also caused her previous thoughts to fly out the window.

With his words, he drew her full attention on him—on this very moment here, of just them, Wakefield and Ysabella. No Lady Weis, no rake.

It excited her. The very thought of Wakefield courting her wrought too many things in her mind.

But how sincere was he? How certain was she that his heart was into this?

He might have seen the doubt in her face for he said, "I do understand your apprehension, Ysa, but do trust me when I say I intend to do this the proper way because it is what I want." His voice sounded impatient and desperate all the same.

"I am done pushing you away," she heard him mutter under his breath.

Her heart swelled but her mind was clouding her judgement with doubt.

In the years that she had been chasing him around, she had never gone this far in her imaginings. Never had she thought of what she would do should he give in and do the courting. In her mind, it had always been her making him say yes.

Yet now this moment apparently came and she did not know what to do or how to deal with it.

This was not the same as Thomas and the others. This was bloody Wakefield telling her he intended to court her! Wakefield!

"Are you certain?" she found herself asking.

His eyes squarely met hers and he nodded.

"You may be very aware of my affections for you, my lord, but you also ought to know that I have my doubts about yours."

His jaw tightened, his blue eyes wavering with guilt. "I know."

"And although I love the thought of us running to Tiny Town, I also know that if we do, I would not be completely satisfied." She tucked a few stray of black hair behind her ear. "I ought to make you prove yourself to me for I deserve it and I am not a fool to settle with something half-heartedly given."

This time his eyes did not waver as they returned to look into hers. He nodded and said, "I can do it, Ysabella. I may not know how, but I shall find a way."

She slowly nodded, allowing a small smile. "I ought to make you suffer as well," she said.

He swallowed and blanched. "Suffer?"

She shrugged. "Someone had given me that very specific instruction. Well, make that two."

His eyes narrowed with curiosity. "Two people told you to make me suffer?"

She gave him an innocent look. "Well, yes, of course. If you must know, the number would tremendously increase should I go around and ask."

She swallowed the laughter in her throat when his mouth hung open in disbelief.

She smirked. "Is it not amazing? You have not even started, yet you seem to be ready to give up!"

Wakefield arched an eyebrow. "Dare not dare me, Ysabella."

She laughed. "Oh, my lord, I do dare you." She looked out the window with a smile, setting aside thoughts of Lady Weis for a while. She'd deal with that later. Or mayhap never for Wakefield might truly have forgotten about her.

Everything would depend on how he would pursue her.

She turned to him with a wicked, provocative smile and asked, "Would you like some advice on a rake's guide to courtship?"

He scowled and Ysabella's chuckle filled the carriage.

"You are mocking me," he accused. "You do not think I can do this."

"No, my lord," she said, grinning wickedly. "I merely am eager to see you try."

Going home to Wickhurst might not be bad after all, she thought.

*****

It took all of her efforts to force Wakefield not to show himself to her mother when they arrived in Wickhurst. She did not wish for the woman to faint with delight or horror if she learned that her daughter had spent two days on the road with a gentleman she had been courting for two bloody years.

With a promise to call on her the very next day, Wakefield left to go back to his estate, leaving Ysabella to run inside the estate and find Emma.

It was Jefferson, on the other hand, who informed her that Emma had gone for a walk in the park with Samuel and Ralph.

"You have not sent a missive regarding your arrival, my lady," he said, looking quite surprised as well that she had returned.

"Well, I did not bother because I thought all of you know I shall be back after a fortnight!" she snapped. "Where is mother?"

"Tea party with friends, my lady."

"Has Margaret and Cole arrived in Wickhurst then?"

"Not to my knowledge, my lady."

"Perfect," she wryly said. "So no one is at home? And Margaret and Cole are not yet in Wickhurst. Emma and Ralph are out. Mother is out. Nick and Max are obviously not here. Perfect! Just perfect!" She waved her arms around. "I would not be surprised if Mrs. Beagle has gone missing again!"

Jefferson winced but shook his head. "The cat is currently at home, my lady."

She sighed. "Very well, have the carriage prepared. I shall go and find my own entertainment elsewhere."

"Are you not going to take a moment of respite, Lady Ysabella?" asked Jefferson.

"No, I want to go out now."

*****

A few minutes later, Ysabella was on her way to Aurora's estate, the only place she thought she could go to.

On the way, she was thinking of what she ought to tell her friend.

Aurora would be utterly surprised of the drastic things that had happened while she was in Bertram. She knew her friend would be concerned about the lost letters, but Ysabella found that they no longer mattered at the moment.

Wakefield intended to court her. If anyone was thinking of doing something with the letters, use them to claim to be Lady Weis, then they ought to do their best for the letters would not be enough proof. If Wakefield was truly in love with Lady Weis, he would know her far beyond the letters.

He did not recognize you, the voice in her head reminded her.

Ah, no matter. It would then be a problem she would have to face if a fake Lady Weis should come out of nowhere. The Herald had been quiet for quite some time anyway, an indication that whoever had stolen the letters had not yet made a move.

The carriage stopped outside Aurora's new estate. Ysabella immediately climbed out and knocked on the door. She did not wish to stay long, really, for she could not wait to go home as well to see Emma the moment she returned from her walk with Ralph and Samuel.

She needed to talk with her Emma. They had many things to talk about, of course and she was yet to kneel and ask for her sister's forgiveness for the accusation she had thrown at her face during their last fight.

The butler answered with a surprised look on his face. "Lady Ysabella," he greeted, "a pleasure to—"

"Where is Aurora?" she asked, striding through the door. "Do tell her I wish to see her at once."

"She is currently in her chambers, my lady. You can wait in the parlour if you wish while I inform Miss Randolph of your presence."

She grinned. "Perfect. Do announce my presence. I shall find the parlour myself." The butler nodded and proceeded up the stairs to bid her request.

She had merely been to Aurora's new estate twice, both only outside to drop her off from the hunting party and the opera weeks before. She tried the first door she found and realized she stumbled into the study.

About to step out to find the parlour, Ysabella changed her mind when she saw the number of books her friend had in her collection. Aurora had always fancied reading literature and to find that her friend finally had a decent place to display them gave Ysabella a sense of satisfaction.

Thinking Aurora would find her anyway, she entertained herself by walking through the aisle of books.

The study was small, but it was far better than the last one. Aurora's parents must have finally come to their senses, she thought, now walking around to study the furniture.

She smiled when she saw cheap trinkets displayed on top of a wooden drawer. She picked one up, studied it with fascination before replacing it back to its position. Her friend did have queer taste, she thought, absently opening the top drawer.

She was about to slide it back inside when something caught her eye. And then she started to frown.

And her heart began to pound against her chest.

She did not have to pick them up and study them to know what they were. She had been through them countless of times in the past.

A shiver ran through Ysabella at the realization of what she had found and where she had found it.

Her breath was caught in her throat and before she could do anything she would regret later on, she slid the drawer back in place and whirled around to walk out of the study, stiff and stunned.

Not a minute longer, she was back in her carriage on her way home.

Tears abandoned her for she was feeling numb inside.

She only had one person in mind at that moment: Emma.

She needed her sister.