Dearest Lady Weis,

Yes, I believe my butler is almost uncontrollable. You are quite lucky to have a reliable one.

Mine, I believe, speaks his mind too often than warranted.

In addition, I believe he has an infatuation to Ysabella Everard.

He must be careful not to push me too far for I might be inclined to throw him out the window.

Yours,

William

*****

"Please forgive me once again, Ysa," Aurora said to her. "I was not able to stop Adam Nimrod when he went after you. I did not also think he could do such a thing!"

Ysabella shrugged as she stared up at the hole hovering above the park. It was a nice, sunny afternoon aboveground, she noted. "It is quite all right, Aurora. It was not your fault, but I do hope not to see him ever again."

"Juliana and Agnes are sauntering toward us, Ysa," Aurora warned under her breath.

Ysabella groaned and straightened in the bench, prepared for yet another attack.

"Hello, Ysabella," Juliana chirped. "Hello, Aurora."

"Hello," Aurora replied, her voice strained.

"How are you this morning, Ysabella?" Agnes asked. "I hope you are doing well. You must be quite happy that no more articles about Lady Weis came out today."

Ysabella's lips formed a tight smile. "Great, is it not? For all we know, Lord Wakefield had given up on the said quest!"

Juliana and Agnes cocked their brows, their lips pursing in doubt. "Or mayhap he already found her."

Ysabella was not able to stop the snort that escaped her. "Well, good luck to him and her, then."

The two ladies gave her a pitiful look. "Ah, if that is the case, then it is such a sad thing to no longer see more of your fun advances on the man," said Juliana.

"But he is not the only lord out there, is he now?" Ysabella gritted out.

"Fine day, is it not, ladies?" Aurora asked, diverting the topic that was obviously causing Ysabella to fume and soon burst should the two ladies push further.

"Ah, yes, it is," Agnes cheerfully said. "Which reminds me, Juliana, that we are expected to be at Madam Vernice anytime soon."

Juliana's eyes widened. "Oh, goodness! I almost forgot!"

Ysabella and Aurora stared after the two ladies as they scurried away after saying their hasty goodbyes.

"Rude," Aurora nearly growled beside her. "Could they be any more obvious? They walked up to us to mock you."

"But they were right, you know," she uttered resignedly. "He might have already found someone who managed to convince him she is Lady Weis, thus the lack of updates on the Herald."

"Or mayhap he simply gave up," Aurora offered.

She turned to Aurora with a sad look in her eyes. "Perhaps my years of chasing after the same man could be coming to a complete failure. Mayhap Emma is correct. I ought to give up."

Aurora took her hand in a gesture to comfort her and said nothing.

She squared her shoulders. "But giving up seems to be even more agonizing," she said with a lopsided grin. "For now, that is."

"I could not ken what you see in the man, Ysa. He is handsome, that is a given, but he is a rake. He must have countless of lovers at the moment even if he claims to be in love with Lady Weis."

"I know, Aurora. But I do not own him yet, see? I cannot stop him from doing anything. But I know he has been keeping one lover for other reasons."

"One lover? Truly? Pray tell, Ysa."

Ysabella shrugged. "He is a lonely man. If he is not amongst his friends, he has no one to talk to."

Aurora's brow arched high. "You say he keeps this lover for a chat? You must be jesting!"

"He has told me that most men keep their mistresses not merely for their exercises in bed, but for companionship, one that their wives or kin cannot give." A faint smile formed on her lips. "I care not if he has more than one lover now. It is him I want. Not the lovers, of course, but him."

"Your thinking astounds me, Ysa."

"Obscure, is it not? But men like Wakefield needs to feel love for them to realize they need only one woman." She gave her friend a wink. "I intend to be that one woman."

Aurora was quiet for a while, deep in thought. "I still believe you must provide him with proof. Emma is correct. You must insist on the truth." Her friend squeezed her hand. "Whatever he does next shall be up to him." Ysabella looked into Aurora's worried blue eyes. "But you must also be ready to whatever he might do with the truth. He might realize you have been telling the truth and when he does, he might not take it well, Ysa. Remember that he does believe all this is but a game to you."

Ysabella sighed. "I do wish for him to believe me, truly, I do. But I do not think providing proof would give me a satisfactory end. I want him to believe me because I said so, not because of those damned letters under my bed!"

Her friend did not give a comment. Aurora simply offered a warm smile.

*****

"Where have you been to the entire morning?" Emma nonchalantly asked from the chaise inside their bedchamber where she had been reading all morning.

Ysabella worried her lips, not hearing her.

"Ysa!" Emma asked with irritation. "Are you even listening?"

Ysabella snapped, blinked. "Ah, yes. I was with Aurora."

Emma frowned. "Where?"

"The park," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "She urged me to provide Wakefield with proof, that it is better that he knows."

"Well," Emma said, brows arched in fascination. "I must say it is quite a sensible thing for her to say. I am quite surprised."

Ysabella frowned. "Surprised that Aurora agrees with your sentiments?"

Emma shrugged. "Well, yes, if you must say so. She had not provided you anything useful ever since you told her about Lady Weis. It is quite refreshing to finally have her—what are you doing?" Emma asked when Ysabella suddenly kneeled beside her bed and bent down to reach for something under it.

"Well, as you can see, I am trying to find..." she said, reaching the box and pulling it toward her, "...the box. If I ought to provide proof, his letters—" she stopped cold, blood draining down her face, when she looked into the box and her head snapped toward Emma, "—are gone! They are gone!"

Emma frowned. "The letters?"

"Yes! Where are they!"

"How would I know?"

Ysabella started to panic. "Emma, this is not the best time to play games. Bring out the letters!"

"I did not bloody touch them!" Emma shouted, jumping to her feet and throwing her book to the side. She strode toward Ysabella and looked down at the empty box. "Well, someone was wise enough to have found them."

"You destroyed them, didn't you? Or mayhap you delivered them straight to Wakefield!"

Her sister's eyes widened with an incredulous look on her face. "I understand your anger, Ysabella, but I did not expect you to accuse me of such crime!"

"But you are the only one who knows about the box!"

"Are you certain? How about Aurora? You told her everything about your secrets!"

"Why do you keep blaming our friend? Aurora does not know about the box!"

"But she knows about the letters! She had been in our estate too many times since you told her. She could have easily sneaked into our room, looked for the letters to steal and now she has them!"

"And why would she have them? She told me to present them to Wakefield!"

"Then she is a scheming liar!"

Ysabella's face was wet with angry tears. She knew Emma might be correct, but she hated the fact that she could not believe her as well. In the past, she would have no doubt, but at that moment she did not know what to do—who to believe.

She threw the box across the bed and jumped to her feet.

"I do not wish to see you," she choked as she walked past her sister, brushing away tears.

"Ysabella!" Emma shouted after her but she had already fled the room.

She could not understand anything at all. Who could have taken the letters? Where could they be now? Her mind raced with many possibilities, none of them leading to a happy end.

She hated herself for doubting her sister. She hated Emma for being utterly insensitive. She hated that she could not accept Emma's accusations. Aurora was the only person who had understood her all this time. She'd hate it if her friend was indeed the culprit.

*****

"You must know, dear, that I am quite surprised of this sudden call," said Lady Hayward, ringing the bell to call for tea. "It is not Friday, yes?"

Ysabella shook her head, her lips still shaking. "I merely needed somewhere to go. I do not wish to bother my mother with my problem. She'd merely worry to no end."

Lady Hayward, frowning gently, took her hands. "You have been crying. What is the matter, dear?"

The tears started to fall then. "It is my sister, Emma. And it is...I do no longer ken what is wrong, see? It seems as if I have done naught but to make foolish steps and now everything around me is crumbling into pieces and I find myself being buried in a pile of rubbles. I could barely breathe!"

"Come here, dear," Lady Hayward said, pulling her for a warm, comforting embrace. "Cry, dear. It is best if you cry."

And Ysabella did cry. She cried for everything, for everyone she had caused pain.

Had she truly been selfish, not thinking of others? Had she been too focused on what she desired the most that she had caused her relationship with her own sister to be tarnished? Had she neglected many things all for her quest to have Wakefield?

After almost half an hour of naught but her whimpers and gasping breath of tears, Ysabella gently pulled away from Lady Hayward's arms and wiped her tears.

"Mayhap you must consider accompanying me to Bertram, dear," Lady Hayward offered.

Ysabella paused, surprised at the invitation.

"I do not know the specifics of your problem, but seeing you so utterly distraught and I believe that this is a problem too big for your lively soul to handle at the moment. I have never seen you in such state, never even imagined you would be this...broken."

Ysabella sniffed as she wiped her tears. Her heart felt heavy. She could understand Lady Hayward's sentiments. She had always met challenges lightly, always thought she was strong enough for anything. Quite a few times she even laughed at some of them! She, too, was surprised to feel quite so helpless.

Her mind seemed muddled, not knowing where to start. The mere thought of the letters being somewhere in the hands of anyone who could do anything they wanted with them made her want to scurry to the darkest corners of the Town and never come out. If she could climb or jump through a hole, she'd already be wandering aboveground, never to return.

"Mayhap you need a break from whatever this is, dear." The woman stared at her, eyes knowing. Ysabella knew she had the inkling that Wakefield might have a part of her dilemma, but she was graceful enough not to give it voice.

She considered Lady Hayward's words. Leaving Wickhurst, forgetting about the letters, giving Emma and herself space to think—clearing her mind about Wakefield and even Aurora. It sounded tempting, almost wonderful.

"I shall send your mother a letter of invitation if you say yes now, dear. I know your mother would not hesitate."

Ysabella blinked, her eyes now dry. She must look so foolish to have cried like a child in front of this woman. But Lady Hayward was more than just any acquaintance. She was like a dear aunt she never had, a woman she could talk to when she was afraid to talk to her own mother.

She allowed a faint smile to form on her lips. "I believe it is a good idea, my lady. I do need time away from Wickhurst."

To hell with the letters, to hell with everything!

She needed this. She would lose her mind if she stayed here. Everything was crumbling around her and she must regain her strong will should she decide to keep fighting.

And perhaps, by the time she gets back, she and Emma could talk and forgive each other.

And mayhap, whoever stole those letters would have a change of heart.

*****

Wakefield was on his way out the door when Ysabella walked past him, unaware that he was standing there. He made a motion to step back into the safety of his own estate but later realized she did not even bother to glance at his direction or even his estate. His stood frozen in the doorway as his gaze followed her across the street.

Did she come from his mother's estate?

"Was that Lady Ysabella, my lord?" Morris asked behind him, head craned over Wakefield's shoulder to see. "But it is not Friday!"

"Step away from my personal space, Morris," he gritted out.

"Pardon, my lord," the butler murmured. "A missive arrived for you just moments ago."

He held out his hand, eyes still on Ysabella as she aimlessly walked down the street across from his estate. She seemed to be mindless of her surrounding, he noted, fighting off the urge to go after her and reprimand her for not having brought along a companion.

Morris cleared his throat, reminding him of the letter in his hand.

Tearing his eyes off Ysabella's growing distant figure, he opened the letter. Before he read it, his eyes flew to Morris with a glare. The butler jumped away, looking to the left to provide him privacy.

Will you be visiting tonight? I shall prepare a sumptuous meal should you decide to do so.

-A

With a sigh, Wakefield folded the paper and tucked it inside his breast pocket. He walked down the driveway.

"Will you not be writing a reply, my lord?" Morris asked after him.

"No. Should anyone ask where I am, I will be at Grey's."

"Very good, my lord!" he heard Morris' reply.

He stopped outside his carriage. "You saw Lady Ysabella walking past?" he asked his driver.

"Aye, milord."

"Follow her," he ordered. "Then continue on to Grey's the moment she enters their estate."

"Aye, milord."

As Wakefield entered the carriage, he could not help but curse his Everard friends. He was doing the very job they all ought to do.