Dearest Lady Weis,

In response to your inquiry, Ysabella Everard is but a child who does not know what she truly wants. It seems to me that everything is still a game for her. I am still patiently waiting for the day that realizes I am too old for her and that I can offer her nothing. I am afraid she is merely in love at the idea of me for if she could truly know me as you do, she would have already married one of her suitors.

I would also appreciate it if you refrain from teasing me about her.

As to your other inquiry, my answer is no. I do not hate the girl, but I cannot deny that I would appreciate it should she choose to divert her attention to another. I am not worthy of her attentions. She is young and vibrant. She must find someone as young as she and one who could give her the same love.

Yours,

William

*****

"Lady Weis w-was a mist-take," she stammered as she stared at her brother. When Maxwell merely looked at her incredulously, she asked, "How did you know?"

"Your dear William found a sapphire stone that fell from your mask that night in the Cinderella ball," he said, tone unreadable. Then his statement dawned on her and she paled. The mask dropped on the floor and somehow a gemstone fell. And all the while she thought she had been quite careful!

"If you could recall, I danced with you that night, Ysabella. And I know stones when I see them." He walked closer, hands on his hips. "Now, tell me what you intend to do about this. You have caused quite a phenomenon and now every bloody person is craving to find out who this Lady Weis is."

Ysabella swallowed and blinked, forcing her eyes to meet her brother's strong ones. "I did try to tell him. I told him I am Lady Weis, but he refused to believe me. I could not blame him because there are quite a number of desperate women who made the same claims."

Maxwell scoffed. "The bloody idiot." He shook his head in disbelief. "Did you offer proof?"

She shook her head. "I refused to do so and still do. I was quite angry he did not believe me and I would not stoop low begging for him to do so."

Maxwell narrowed his eyes, darkening his features even more. "I already know the story about Lady Weis. The man could not stop talking about it. What I want to know now from you now is what sort of proofs do you have? The letters?"

She nodded.

"What else, Ysa?"

She tried to think more. "Well, there is one person who can attest to my honesty."

"Who?"

She winced. "You would not wish to know."

"This is the man who receives the letters from Wakefield and who delivers yours in return."

She nodded.

"Who is this man?"

"Truly, Max, I do not wish—"

"Who?"

"If you promise not to hurt him or approach him in any way, I shall tell you."

Her brother remained unmoving and silent.

"Then I will not tell you."

"I give you my word I shall not hurt this bastard," he said through gritted teeth.

"It is not truly his fault, you know." She cleared her throat and asked a silent forgiveness from Samuel. "Samuel Theobald."

Maxwell did not even flinch. "Very well, he shall be handled by Ralph in time."

Ysabella's eyes widened but it seemed that she had no time to discuss the matter about Samuel further as he immediately jumped to another. "What did you do with Wakefield the night of the Cinderella ball? Do not attempt to lie to me, Ysabella. I know when you do."

"How do you know?" When her brother merely stared, she asked, "Does my nose wrinkle? My eye twitch? My shoulder? What is it?"

Maxwell's bristled jaw twitched with impatience. She sighed. "We kissed."

Her brother's eyes darkened with fury.

"It was just a kiss, Max! Nothing else happened. I left before he even realized who I was."

"Bloody hell, Ysa. How could you be so stupid? What if someone came upon the two of you?"

"I know. A wedding would have to ensue," she said in nearly a whisper. "And I would not have wanted it."

"Not merely you, but he would have despised you."

She shrugged. "But it did not happen, see? I was careful. And now that you think of it, the kiss is another proof, you know."

Maxwell groaned. "Help me forget the picture by not talking about the bloody kiss, Ysabella."

She bent her head and waited for her brother's next words.

"I do not like this, Ysabella. He is way too old for you. You have gone too far with your infatuation."

"I love him."

Maxwell stared at her for a long time and shook his head. "Love," he scoffed.

"Well, I know him more than any of you do. I am Lady Weis, remember? We've been conversing through missives for over two years."

The look he gave her told her he did not like that information. "How do you plan to solve this? He is quite inclined to find you."

"I do not want to be found by him."

"But you told him you are Lady Weis!"

Mrs. Beagle meowed at Maxwell's raised voice.

"And that is why I no longer wish for him to find me as Lady Weis. I want him to find me as Ysabella Everard."

Her brother let out a mocking laugh. "Women. I can never in this lifetime figure out how your brains work. Never."

But Ysabella was not interested how her cynical brother thought about women. She was more concerned about what he'd do about this. "Do Nick and Ralph know?"

"No. And you ought to be lucky for those two bastards would have already hanged Wakefield in the middle of the town by now."

Ysabella moistened her lips, anxious. "You will not tell anyone? Even mother?"

Maxwell shook his head. "Dear Lord, our mother would not merely faint, Ysa. She'd want to be dead should she find out." Ysabella bent her head in remorse, picturing her dear mother sick with worry. Mrs. Beagle stared up at her with a whimper. Her brother's voice brought her head back up. "I only have one thing to tell you: be wary. But do be sure that I have quite a lot to tell Wakefield if he ends up hurting you should he find out the truth."

"Thank you," she said with a teary smile.

"Don't thank me yet, sister. I want this matter with Lady Weis over with the soonest possible time without a scandal. You are old enough to know what is best to do."

"Will you beat him should he hurt me in any way?"

He simply stared at her, eyes narrowed.

"I hate it when you do not say anything. It means you have a lot in your mind."

He cocked his brows.

"Will you use pistols?" she asked.

He nonchalantly shrugged.

Ysabella sighed in resignation. "Should it come to that, do make certain not to cause his death. A shoulder wound would suffice." She frowned. "But it is near the head and his heart. A leg wound would do. But he might not be able to walk after that." She pouted her lips and gazed at her brother with pleading green eyes. "Could you not shoot him at all? Would you not be satisfied if—"

"Enough. I will do what I want with the man if it would ever come to that. You, on the other hand, ought to do the sensible thing."

"What is that?"

"Make him bloody fall in love with you before he realizes you're Lady Weis."

"But he could not possibly blame me for I have already confessed—" she stopped short, finally hearing her brother's words. "You wish me to make him fall in love with me? I do have your blessings, then?"

"Women!" Maxwell growled as he whirled around. At the door, her brother stopped and uttered in a dark, serious voice, "And one matter I forgot, Ysabella," he said.

She stared in fascination and anticipation.

"When he falls in love with you, do be sure to make him suffer and grovel at your feet." Maxwell stalked out of the library as Ysabella gaped at the open door.

She looked down at Mrs. Beagle and asked, "Was that truly Maxwell?"

*****

Their mother, being a great admirer of the opera, asked for Emma and Ysabella to accompany her but Emma refused, giving a lousy excuse of an impending headache, which led Ysabella to believe that her sister was still not amiable to the idea of her still pursuing Wakefield.

Aurora was also in attendance and she joined Ysabella and Lady Alice in their box after having been invited by the pair. Ysabella's eyes were not on the performance below as she was currently gazing across the opera hall to another box which contained Lady Hayward and her two sons.

She was certain that Wakefield knew of her presence by the way he skipped their box every time his gaze roamed the theatre.

When the intermission came, she joined her mother and Aurora behind the box and into a corridor where they met acquaintances while waiting for the next part of the performance.

By then, Ysabella had told Aurora of everything she had missed, including the carriage ride she shared with Wakefield.

"I could not believe you did that, Ysa," Aurora said with awe. Her blue eyes glimmered with mirth as she shook her prettily donned red hair.

Ysabella merely smiled, giving her head a shake as she studied her friend. "Nick would have swooned at the sight of you tonight, Aurora. You look stunning. Blue suits you the best."

Aurora's face went scarlet. "Thank you."

Her eyes went over her friend's shoulder and she considered the amount of time she had left before the next performance.

"You are planning something, are you not?" Aurora asked. "I know Wakefield is in attendance."

Her lips slanted into a wicked smile. "Of course. Now, if you would be so kind as to tell my mother that—"

"—you need a breath of fresh air, of course. And I see Adam Nimrod from afar. Go now before he finds you," said Aurora, already nodding her head. "Go."

"I truly need to make you my sister-in-law," she uttered before she walked away, slipping behind her mother's back to escape the corridor.

*****

"I have invited Mother to Bertram for an entire week. She intends to go a fortnight after I leave," Thomas said to Wakefield. "You are welcome to join us there."

"I'd rather stay in Wickhurst," he murmured, eager to return to their box and have this opera over with.

"Or you could give Wakefield a visit, William," his brother said, voice quite stern. "I know that your harvest this season was not good."

"Wouldn't you know," he sarcastically shot back.

But Thomas seemed not to hear for his eyes were focused on something behind him. "Ysabella Everard is on her way here and I assume that she intends to spend time with you."

Wakefield dared not move to follow his brother's gaze. In fact, his shoulders had gone stiff and his jaw clenched. Of course she would come here. She would always find her way to him.

Thomas' gaze had turned to amusement after seeing his reaction.

"If you refuse have someone who is obviously and openly pursuing you, I might consider her for my wife." Wakefield's eyes narrowed at Thomas' words. "What? I am currently looking for a decent, rich and young wife. Ysabella Everard is a perfect candidate. She obviously does not mind age."

A ringing in his ears caused him to growl under his breath, saying, "Stay clear of the chit, Thomas."

"I was merely trying to tell you that if you do not want her, I might consider saving you from her advances, one you obviously find a bother but one I would gladly welcome."

"Keep to your person. Find someone else. She is the sister of a friend. I would not want to face the entire Everard should you break her, a habit you seem to have." Before Thomas could utter a reply, he whirled around to find that Ysabella was not in sight.

The performance was about to start and Thomas was making his way back inside their box.

"I thought you said she is here."

Thomas frowned and gazed over at the end of the corridor. "Oh, she must have left with the young man who blocked her way earlier." His brother disappeared to join their mother, leaving him and a few other opera guests in the corridor.

What young man was Thomas talking about?

He started to follow his brother but changed his mind.

Lesser of two evils, he muttered, turning on his heels to walk away from the box.

*****

"I am not avoiding you, Adam," Ysabella said in frustration. She sighed, hearing the sound of music behind them. Bloody great! The performance had resumed and she did not even make it to Wakefield.

"You've deliberately escaped my presence in the Cinderella ball."

"I was not aware you were in attendance," she lied.

"I intended to come to ask you for a dance and you threw your friend in my direction to escape somewhere." His once gentle and patient voice had turned strained, heated even.

Ysabella took a step back but Adam towered over her, giant that he was, and grabbed her by the arm. "Let go of me at once, Adam, or I shall scream."

"No, you will not, because you would not wish for the ton to wonder why you allowed me to talk to you in private."

"Because I know you and you are a friend, of course I would allow you to talk to me. You insisted you have something of import to say and now I realize that you were lying. Let go of me at once so I can go back to my Mother."

"Not if you do not tell me what I want." His eyes were no longer the same as she had remembered them. His brown eyes looked almost black with a glint of something evil. He looked entirely different and it scared her.

She flinched when he tightened his hold.

"I have reached the limit of my patience, Ysabella. I have been courting you for nearly a year now and I get naught but your mocking laughter and silly conversations. I want an answer."

"Well, the answer is no," she bit out, pulling at her arm. "Let go of me."

"That is not what I wanted to hear."

"Then you should not have bothered to ask for an answer!" she said, kicking his foot. She jumped out of his reach when he screamed in pain.

Whirling around to escape him and find her mother and Aurora, Ysabella managed to reach the end of the corridor before she was harshly pulled back by her hair. No one was about and no one had heard anything but the music when she collided against the wall after Adam threw her with a surprising strength.

She started to shout when Adam's dark face stalked toward her, but he never made it as he was suddenly flung farther away from her with the same strength he used on her. Her eyes widened seeing Wakefield's furious face before he turned to face Adam. Adam was taller, yes, but Wakefield was stronger. He managed to tackle Adam to the floor, eliciting a grunt from the man.

She straightened to her full height and watched in panic as Wakefield started to beat Adam, straddling the man and planting his fist twice against Adam's cheek.

As a matter of fact, it merely took those two blows to knock the bloody bastard out. Wakefield stood up and turned to face Ysabella, his face filled with ebbing fury and concern.

*****

Wakefield, breath heaving, stared at Ysabella's haphazard state. Her dark hair was awry. Her eyes, though surprised, were filled with fear and panic.

But the moment she saw Adam unconscious on the floor, she swallowed and squared her shoulders. And she did the most unexpected thing he had ever seen. She walked straight to the man who was now regaining his consciousness, bent down and slapped his face. The sound rang down the corridor, swallowed by the music behind them.

It was Wakefield's turn to stare in disbelief and gape.

"Dare do that once more, my lord, and you shall have to face one of my brothers' pistols," she said over Adam, voice shaking with rage. "But they shall not be holding the weapon," she added, "for it will be I who shall pull the trigger."

Wakefield's eyes widened as he stood frozen in the middle of the corridor, watching as she gave Adam Nimrod one last disdainful look before she straightened and squared her shoulders.

He noticed the shiver that ran through her. She may try to appear calm and composed but he knew that Adam's attack shook her still.

He started toward her, hand outstretched, ready to soothe her.

"Are you quite all right?" he asked, frowning warily. Adam Nimrod stirred beside her feet. He ignored the moaning man.

"Yes. Thank you for that," she said, motioning with her hand at Adam.

"You look pale," he said, stepping closer. "Mayhap it is best if you—"

She slapped his hand away. "Don't!" she uttered. "I am not a child!"

Wakefield opened his mouth to say something—anything—but she drew a deep breath and stiffly walked away.

He watched as she disappeared from the corridor, quite in awe.

Bending down so his words would reach Adam Nimrod, he said, "Dare do that again, Nimrod, and you shall have a bullet between your eyes before she could even find her brothers' pistol." He gave the man's cheek a heavy patting. "That bullet would be mine."

Standing to his feet, he fixed his cravat as he glared at the limp man on the floor. He looked over at the corridor where Ysabella disappeared into, shook his head, turned and found his way back to join his mother and brother to watch the opera.

He realized then, as he took his seat, that his hands were shaking. Merely moments ago he witnessed how she was hauled by her hair and flung against the wall. An unimaginable reaction coursed through him, awakening a fury he did not know he was capable of. The mere sight of her hurt triggered a strong reaction from him that he almost flew the length of the corridor, intending to kill the bastard. And he would have killed the man if she was not there, he darkly thought.

For the rest of the night, his eyes would find Ysabella Everard sitting beside Aurora Randolph and Lady Alice, her expression utterly different for she was smiling to whatever Aurora was whispering in her ear, her hair fixed, as if she was not the same woman who was attacked behind the opera.

It took a while before his nerves calmed down.

*****

His brother assured that he would take their mother home safely, leaving Wakefield with naught but the rest of the night to waste.

He considered going to Grey's but he figured he was not in the mood to face the Everards and their mocking rhetoric about the mysterious Lady Weis and Wakefield's forthcoming doom and failure on love.

Their sister was attacked in the opera and they were not there to protect her! Yes, indeed, it would not be wise to go and join them at Grey's.

He entered the estate and found his way to the drawing room. Pulling at his cravat, he could not fathom why he was even there, but he found his way and he had no energy to go where he ought to be.

As he was pouring himself a glass of brandy, the door opened once more and she sauntered inside. She was wearing the same gown, he noted.

"I heard you had a rather interesting rough night, my lord," her voice said as she walked near him.

"Bloody rough, indeed," he bit out before he swallowed the entire glass. He winced at the bitter taste, but revelled at the soothing sensation thereafter.

Her chuckle filled the silence of her drawing room. "Did you find the opera to your liking?" she asked as she took the empty glass from his hand and poured it with more brandy.

"Not so much as you obviously did," he wryly replied.

"Hmm. I warned you not to come, did I not?" Aurora replied before drinking from the glass.