Dearest Lady Weis,

Lovers can offer me what I need most which is company, but they barely listen. But to give them credit, they do succeed in pretending to hear me.

I often find myself longing to have someone I can bring outside, someone who can spend the night with me without thinking of servicing me in bed.

My friends do think I am naught but a rake, and it is quite frustrating to not be able to talk about love and women in one context. The latter is a much preferable subject, yet the former is quite an untouchable one, especially at Grey's.

I envy women who can talk about both and still find themselves without judgement.

Yours,

William

*****

He wanted to believe he was losing the muscles of his legs as he stepped into the parlour. And he felt the time had stopped when he saw Ysabella sitting in the chaise, stiff as a rock.

She was still wearing the same blue gown, but her eyes were now bare of any emotions. The anger was not there, not even a hint of it. No playful, wicked glint, nothing.

She tried to smile at him when he came to stand in the middle of the room, desperate to start talking.

But her current state, the way she looked as if she was too tired, was wrenching his heart.

He had done this to her.

I shall live to torment you for years...

The words she had so wittily spoken at Bertram when she was burning with fever came to him, ringing in his ears, bringing him to a desperation he could barely handle.

He wished she would say the same thing. He wished to hear her teasing, weak voice. He could handle it. He could stay by her side again and watch her sleep until she regains her strength. Truly, he could accept any form of weakness from her so long as it was not this.

This spoke too much of the things he did not want to hear—never wanted to hear.

He could face her brothers so long as she did not say anything about anyone giving up.

Because he did not intend to. No, not now when he was finally certain of one thing and desperate for it.

"I wish to beg for your forgiveness for what happened at the ball. Aurora has no right to complicate matters. You ought to believe me that I did not tell her anything about the servant or the letters. And before anything else, I wish for you to listen and believe my next words," he started, not pausing to give her time to contradict. "We are not lovers. She was never a lover. I am protecting her from someone who wants to hurt her as there is no one else to offer her such protection. Our relationship is nothing more, Ysabella. You have to believe me for it."

She patiently listened as he spoke, her eyes distant and he nearly cursed for not knowing how to deal with this. He once called himself the expert in dealing with the playful, wicked Ysabella Everard, but this hurt and weary one he simply wanted to pull into his arms and pray that everything she was feeling he could manage to absorb for him to bear.

"As to your claims against her," he started again, "I vow to find out the truth. If I find that—"

"I no longer care about Aurora," she interrupted, her voice calm and composed. To his surprise, she smiled and drew a deep breath. "It does, however, cause me relief and much lesser pain to know that you have not been bedding her while I have been foolishly chasing you about."

His heart nearly leaped to his throat, but he stood frozen when her expression wavered into a lifeless one.

"I love you," he said, stepping forward, shaking with desperation, with anxiety.

Her eyes widened a little before she frowned and scoffed.

She did not believe him.

"I do, Ysabella. I am in love with you, irrevocably and desperately so," he insisted, his vision nearly blurring with tears of anger.

The anger, of course, was directed at himself. He would not be seeing her in such a mess should he have given her a chance long ago, should he have offered his hand to dance with her when she first asked him to, should he have come down to take the first flower she delivered to his home.

"My heart wishes to believe you, my lord, for it has always been my dream to hear you say those words," she carefully said, meeting his blue eyes, "but do forgive me if I cannot fully believe them now. I do not think you know what you are saying for how can you love someone if you barely know her?"

He suddenly felt cold. The chilling effect of the reality she was presenting before his eyes caused his heart to make a pause.

No!

If she had felt the same thing every time he had told her she was but a child and she did not truly know what she wanted, then he ought to be burnt at the stakes.

For if the pain was the same as what he was feeling now, then what he had made her go through was unforgivable.

Wakefield nearly flinched when she moved and let out a loud sigh. She tried to smile, but it did not reach her beautiful emerald eyes.

"I shall stop making ruckus, my lord. Whatever or however you interpret the truth is no longer a concern of mine." He wanted to stop her, to ask her for more time to think, but his tongue would not even move, his mind merely focused on one thing—her.

Images of her flashed behind his mind again, a common occurrence nowadays.

She stood up and levelled her gaze with his. "I do not wish to turn into a woman I would someday hate. What I feel for you have led me to do many things and now it has affected my family." Her choked as she said the last word. Tears glinted in her eyes but she averted her gaze and started for the doorway. Wakefield could not even move to chase her for her words seemed to have put a heavy weight upon his feet, rendering them immovable. "I do not want that," she continued behind him. "For as much as I do love you, I also do love who I was before you."

If one could die by words, then this must be his last remaining moments. His heart suddenly felt heavier. His breath caught in a trap inside his chest.

"You may go now, my lord. Rest your mind that you are free from your promise of courtship. And please, do forgive me for everything I have caused you."

A shiver ran up his spine.

He knew she would not be there when he turned.

He did not know how long he had been looking into the empty doorway before Nicholas, Ralph and Emma came into view. Would it help if the two men would box him back to his senses? It was quite tempting to beg them for it, really.

"I shall come back," he stiffly promised when he succeeded in forcing his feet to move. He saw the doubtful looks of the brothers and Emma's unreadable one.

Nicholas and Ralph stepped aside to let him pass.

At the door, he heard Nicholas say, "Do not come back with a mess, Wakefield."

"Rest assured," he promised, walking out the door.

*****

The events at the Seymour ball were perfectly narrated in detail on the Town Herald the following morning. The story of Lady Weis spread like a plague and although Ysabella had not seen the issue yet, she could almost smell it in the air when she found her mother and Emma in the breakfast room when she came down.

It was Emma who hid the paper, but Lady Alice held out her hand for it.

Her sister hesitantly handed it back to their mother who then slid it toward Ysabella as she took her seat beside her sister.

She bent down and managed to catch a few lines:

A servant! She is a servant! But who?

And will the rake be true to his words and marry her?

"It is better that you know the entire story on the Herald, dear." Her mother sipped from her glass. "So you would know how to deal with it. You cannot go around blindly now, can you?"

Ysabella's eyes watered.

"Unfortunate that I was not here last night or at the ball," their mother said, pointedly looking at them both. "You siblings had had quite an adventure, I gather—Much more than I did with my grandchildren causing havoc in their father's estate, of course."

Emma swallowed and averted her gaze.

"By the by, I sent Margaret and your brothers home for I know it will be too much for you to see their mournful and angry faces."

A tear dropped from her eyes.

"What Aurora did to you is unforgivable, but you must be strong. You are an Everard, after all." She held Ysabella's eyes firmly. "I have to force the truth out from your brothers and Emma," she explained.

She sobbed harder now. "I am sorry, Mother. I ought not to have done it. I am sorry."

"You are in love, of course you will do foolish things. Don't we all?" she asked, but Emma was already shaking her head in disagreement. "Wait for your turn, dear," their mother said her sister, tone knowing, before she turned to Ysabella to add, "Benedict and Agatha are to arrive today. You might wish to let your brother know everything before he gathers the rest to attack Lord Wakefield's residence."

"Ben will not do that," Emma said. "He is quite sensible. He did not beat Cole."

"That was a different story. Margaret is a sister, but the two of you he treats as his children."

Ysabella groaned. "I want to stay in my chambers until next year. I cannot go out and—"

"You will not let that Aurora girl have her satisfaction. And I quite admire you for not insisting to Wakefield who you truly are, dear. He is blind after all, but the truth should soon come out."

Emma reached for Ysabella's hand. "What if he calls on you again, Ysa?"

"No. No. Last night was too much. I cannot face him again."

"But you will soon have to, dear," Lady Alice uttered seriously. "I believe that he will find out the truth himself sooner than we all expect. By then he would have to be brave enough to face your brothers and you the moment he realizes it."

Lady Alice's blue eyes settled on Ysabella. "That is all you wish, is it not? For him to realize the truth?"

Ysabella wiped her tears and nodded.

"And if he does not?"

She let out a bitter smile. "Then I shall not have him."

"And if he does, he shall have to grovel, yes?" Lady Alice asked, a wicked glint in her eyes.

Despite her heavy heart, Ysabella chuckled.

*****

"Should we not be staying home? You ought to rest, Agatha," Ysabella said to her sister-in-law as they strolled down the street. She knew what Agatha was planning to do and that was to comfort her. Emma would have accompanied them otherwise.

"I needed to stretch my legs," Agatha said, absently tucking away a strand of her auburn hair. Her topaz brown eyes slanted toward Ysabella with meaning as she added, "And we would not wish to be in the presence of your brother after his talk with Mother, yes?"

Ysabella managed a weak smile. It had not been a week since her return from Bertram yet it seemed that years had already passed. Horrible years, in fact!

She ought to be feeling quite excited now that almost the entire family was here with the exception of Levi, Tori and Lindsay, but she could not find it in herself to feel it.

Just moments earlier she spotted Nettie, Juliana and Agnes hastily crossing to the other side of the street to avoid her.

One would think they were avoiding Agatha whom the ton had once accused of being a witch when the woman was serving the Everards as Ysabella and Emma's governess, but she knew they were avoiding her.

"Are you fretting over the scandal? They did not paint you with as much fun as they previously did in the previous Herald articles," Agatha inquired. "In fact, it sounded as though they do favour Aurora."

Ysabella could not help but smile. Agatha was not as perceptive as Margaret, but she knew her and Emma too well as their former governess to not know what she was thinking.

Agatha looped her hand around Ysabella's, her bulging stomach causing a few people to scandalously stare at them. It was not common for a showing pregnant woman to go about in the streets, but Agatha heeded her husband's advice that the ton would not perish if they saw a pregnant woman.

"You know that Ben and I had our own share of scandal, yes?" Agatha murmured beside her.

"Yes, I am."

"And your family has been there for both of us, yes?"

She nodded.

"Then need not you fret, dear," Agatha said, "for you have us."

"Thank you, Agatha," she said, letting out a sigh.

Her sister-in-law squeezed her arm. "It shall get better." She paused and looked at the display of baby clothes through the window of one shop. "Ah, here we are. We better hurry. Your brother may have given me permission to go out, but he shall soon go out to hunt me down if we do not return on time."

Ysabella forced a smile. "Then we do not wish to make the beast wait!"

"Indeed," Agatha said with a chuckle.

*****

Wakefield rarely promised anyone anything. And he rarely broke them.

As of that moment, the only promise he intended to break was his own rule: Never dally with a friend's sister or kin.

The rest he intended to keep.

The most paramount one at the moment was to see through this Lady Weis mess.

Ysabella's brothers needed not elaborate what they wanted him to clean up for it was clear that they did not wish for the hovering presence of Lady Weis to be a part of his courtship with their sister as much as Wakefield did.

Sleep had deprived him last night and instead of mourning over what happened at the ball and his talk with Ysabella in the parlour, Wakefield spent it reading through each and every letter Rosa Gimer had left him as proof of her identity.

There was no mistaking that he penned them. He found himself laughing and cringing the entire night as he read through each letter.

But by morning, before the sunlight streamed down through the distant holes, Wakefield finally found something. Or the correct term might be that he finally realized what he did not find.

And the moment he did, he shouted for Morris to go and get Rosa Gimer from the Gedge estate at once.

He was standing in front the window of his study, witnessing how Wickhurst started to awaken. First with the lamps lighting up to imitate the sun from aboveground, followed by the windows and doors opening, servants and service people alike walking out to run errands.

He looked down at the street that Ysabella had walked through many times. He started estimating the number of steps she must have taken from his mother's estate to his and back to the Everard manor.

His jaw tightened when his mind could no longer manage the calculation. He hated himself for it again.

He looked over his shoulder to glare at the books surrounding his study. In some of them, the flowers had stayed tucked and hidden. He scoffed at himself with disbelief.

He never had the courage to throw them away. Had the back of his mind always known she was the one?

Groaning with frustration because he knew he would merely cause himself a headache if he were to think about his past actions, he turned to face the window again.

From the distance he could see the carriage Morris had taken to get Rosa Gimer.

Drawing a breath, Wakefield turned to sit behind his desk and wait.

*****

Rosa Gimer looked as though she had been dragged out of her bed. She might have managed to put on an oversized coat, but her black hair was haphazardly done.

Wakefield felt guilty for having ordered for her to be brought to his estate at such an hour. But the guilt slowly ebbed away when he saw her nervous brown eyes.

"I do hope that Lady Gedge would not punish you because of this, Miss Gimer."

She blinked, surprised by the concern in his voice. "Her ladyship is still in bed, I believe, my lord. She shall not be up until ten."

He nodded. He motioned his hand at the box she had delivered to him. "I have gone through all the letters and I have to admit that they are genuine. I cannot deny my own penmanship."

The servant maid bowed her head.

"They might be the strongest proof of Lady Weis' identity," he began, "but they are not the only ones, of course."

He watched her fingers tug each other.

"By the by, Miss Gimer," he said, tilting his head to look at her bowed head. "Have you done as I have suggested?"

She raised her head, confusion on her face. "What you suggested, my lord?"

He nodded with a smile. "Yes. The first letter you sent me regarding your cat."

Her eyes brightened with eagerness, relieved. "Ah, yes, of course. The cat."

His smile widened. He rested his elbows on the armrests of his chair and locked his fingers with satisfaction.

"Then have you done as I have suggested? Did you cage it?"

The smile on her face disappeared and to his pleasure, she stiffened.

"Well? Surely you did cage it, yes?"

"O-of c-course, my lord," she stammered with a nervous laugh. "Lady Gedge would not want a cat prowling her estate."

Wakefield remained unmoving as he stared at her, hands still locked in front of him, his smile the same as before.

Rosa Gimer was making this a lot easier than he had anticipated.

But the longer he stared at her, the more she appeared uncomfortable.

One corner of his lips quirked before he uttered, "I never told you to cage it, Miss Gimer."