Dearest William,

I do have many misgivings on spirits, brandy in particular.

I tasted some last week and I got foxed.

Never again.

Your friend,

Lady Weis

*****

Thomas had been quite persistent that Ysabella found herself wanting to have a moment to think. She found herself back in the garden, but unluckily for her, Wakefield tagged along.

She would have appreciated him tailing her if not for the fact that she knew why he was doing it. He was keeping an eye on her and Thomas. He may have his own reasons for his disapproval of the match, but none of them was to her liking.

She had long decided to forget about the parlour night and the dance, but the tiny hope that lingered inside her kept burning. He nearly kissed her the way he did in the Cinderella ball that night. What could have stopped him?

His foolish love for Lady Weis, of course, replied the voice in her head. How pathetic to be competing to one's self, really. Simply pathetic!

Ah, but how fascinating would it be to see him realize who Lady Weis was?

"We shall be leaving for Wickhurst soon," he said as she inspected a flower. "Mother has expressed her desire to stay here for another fortnight."

"So it shall only be you and I then," she said with a smile. "Fret not, my lord. I would not whisk you away to Tiny Town."

His face was serious. "Have you thought of an answer you will give my brother?"

A mysterious smile curved on her lips. "Yes."

"And?"

"And I shall not be sharing it with you." She turned to face him. "You are not your brother."

A glint of annoyance flickered in his eyes.

"Would your family support whatever decision you make?" he asked after a while.

"Of course. They would want naught but my happiness. I feel the same toward them." Her gaze became distant, absently staring at the flower, as she said, "I merely wish my father would be here to give me a piece of his mind."

*****

It was the first time that Wakefield saw a different sort of longing in Ysabella's eyes. He knew her father died when she and Emma were very little, giving them nearly no memory of the man.

"I heard he was a very good man," he quietly said, watching her closely.

She nodded. Her eyes were moist with tears. "I do hate it that I the memory I have of him is starting to fade."

Her voice started to break. Wakefield stepped closer, not knowing how to comfort her.

"All I can clearly remember about him now is when the family was mourning. Everyone wearing black." She hastily wiped the tears with one hand. "And it was also that time Margaret lost Cole. Benedict lost Cole as well with scars to prove it." She laughed at her tears, wiping them away once again. "Em and I seemed quite lost, see? We were told Papa would not come back. Margaret would not talk to us and Benedict had fresh scars on his face. It was merely years later that we pieced everything together, the mystery of those dark days." She sniffed, squaring her shoulders. "No one truly told us anything. We simply knew about them by eavesdropping."

When she drew a deep breath to calm herself, Wakefield started to reach out but she gently brushed his hand away. "I am fine, my lord. I do not like it when people think I am weak simply because I am young." Her emerald green eyes met his, her smile returning to cover the hurt. "I am neither of those things now."

Of course she wasn't, he thought. Ysabella Everard was an expert in hiding her pain.

A thought struck him then. He could very well have been hurting her until now and never knew it. She could easily cover her fears and pain with a simple smile and her witty words.

Had she truly been hiding it to herself instead of using it to control him and get what she wanted? A child would do so, but a true woman would do what she had been doing all along—hide the pain and keep on fighting.

"Now you know what could make me cry," she said with a laugh. She turned and kept walking, brushing her fingers lightly over the flowers as she passed.

"I have a hypothetical question," she said without turning around to face him.

"What is it?"

"What would you do if I am indeed Lady Weis?"

He could not ken why he was suddenly irked. Not because she was trying to say she was Lady Weis, but because she was obviously still bothered by Lady Weis. She would not have asked the question if she was not.

"It is merely a hypothetical question, my lord, no need to be cross."

For the first time, Wakefield considered it. What if she was truly Lady Weis?

Something inside him swelled at the thought and he began to formulate a reply, but she laughed and turned to face him, walking backward. "Never mind. I do not wish to know."

I'd whisk you away to Tiny Town, was one answer that popped in his head.

I'd kneel down and grovel, was another.

I'd kill myself for being an arse, was the one he thought would satisfy them both.

But she was walking away once again, the question forgotten.

You want her... He heard his Thomas saying in the distant recesses of his mind.

For the first time, Wakefield acknowledged his brother's words.

Now, the question was: What should he do about this?

*****

The day was inevitable, Ysabella thought as she waited for Thomas in the parlour two days later. She would like to think now that she was leaving Bertram that she had given him enough time to pursue her.

Yes, he had always been attentive whenever they were together, but there were also days when he would disappear for hours behind his study. It was well for her that he was secretive, but it bothered her that he could easily do it—shut everyone off.

Then he would once more sway her feelings and confuse her even further by being a determined and honest suitor which he truly was. But would he be honest about everything about himself if she were to choose him?

In the end, Ysabella thought, Thomas was an even more complicated man to deal with than Wakefield. It was as if he was leaving a different life, one she was afraid she would never learn about if they married. He'd dominate her as it was his nature to do so. She might be brave, but she feared she'd lose herself if she were to live with him.

"By the look on your face, I know you are here to say no," Thomas said from the doorway.

Ysabella's eyes snapped toward him and she smiled.

He closed the parlour door behind him and walked up to her. He stopped merely three paces in front of her, hands in his pockets. "What could I do to change your mind?"

It was a relief that he was taking this lightly. She had feared she'd hurt his feelings. But then, mayhap she had always known Thomas' heart was not fully into this short courtship. Mayhap he merely did this to spite his brother, prove that he could play this game better than Wakefield.

The latter thought she chose to brush aside as she did not wish to feel any resentment toward the man. He had been good to her.

"You are a good man, Thomas, and you are a good friend. And you have made things seem quite easy it was almost tempting." She smiled at him gently. This was easier than she had thought. "But I have not been looking for good. In fact, I was never looking for anything easy. If I was, I would have said yes to other suitors."

She looked around the parlour and through the window where the carriage was waiting for her. Turning to face him once again, she said, "I have always known I am meant for something greater than mere companionship and friendship." She let out a silly chuckle. "You may have persuaded me into thinking otherwise, but I have to remind myself that I am Ysabella Everard and I deserve more than what you have so honestly offered."

As if she had only realized it just now, she scoffed, laughing at herself. She gazed back at Thomas' amused look. "I deserve more. If not in this lifetime, then mayhap in the next one." She stood up and walked up to him, close enough to take his hand where she placed the bracelet he gave her. He let her without argument. "You are the first man to make me feel that I am a woman deserving of the attention of a real gentleman. But I am not the woman for you and you are not for me. We both know that, yes?"

He merely scoffed but said nothing.

"It might not be Wakefield as well," she said with a teary smile. "But at least now I know that I am something more than the child people think I am. My stay here in Bertram had made me realize that and many more."

"Ah, Ysabella, dear," Thomas said with a sigh, taking her hands into his. "My brother is such a fool to have not noticed you. But I believe that if you give the proud bastard more time, if you could simply be a bit more patient, I believe he shall come to his senses. He will get over his pathetic obsession with this Lady Weis. He'd be the man you want."

Ysabella laughed. "My lord, I have already known he is the man for me. But if he does come to his senses, I do hope he'd prove that I have always been right."

Thomas chuckled. "Do give him time, then. He is merely confused."

She could not help but fix a look of admiration on the man. "You do love him despite how you treat each other, my lord. I suggest you show it."

The corner of his lips quirked. "There are things we can show, dear one. And there are things we cannot for many other reasons."

Frowning with curiosity, Ysabella nodded. It was not her place to tell the man she refused a marriage proposal to what to do.

"Now, are you ready to go and continue your quest to have my brother leg-shackled?" he asked, offering his arm.

Ysabella laughed. "No, my lord. I am quite ready to go home and face what awaits me there."

"Very well, then, let us not keep everyone waiting. I wager my brother is pacing in the hallway, burning my precious floor with ire."

She hooked her hand in his arm. "Have you ever thought that it might be quite awkward should I succeed and become your sister-in-law?"

Thomas threw his head back and laughed, making Ysabella think that this marvellous, mysterious, domineering, arrogant man could have been the one. But the thought was not laced with longing or pain. She made the right choice, she said to herself as she heard him say, "Not in the very least, dear one. In fact, I am quite looking forward to attending your wedding. Would love to see the crying ladies, really."

"Then consider yourself invited."

"By the by, do be sure to torment him on your journey," Thomas said. "Two days are not enough, but it would do."

"Ah, my lord, you are not the first to tell me that. I do give you my word that I shall try my best." A sudden thought came to her mind. "Blucksley is a good place for respites, yes? We do stay there when we journey to Standbury."

"Yes, I believe they have a tavern, although I would not suggest it. The place, I heard, is colonized by bandits. I would be more at ease if you take the next village."

"Is that so?" Ysabella asked, hiding a wicked smile as she let Thomas lead her to the door.

Time to visit old friends then, she thought with excitement.

*****

"Do make certain that Ysabella reaches Wickhurst unscathed, dear," his mother told him as the footmen loaded the carriage with his and Ysabella's bags.

He nodded and asked, "And where is she?"

"Oh, well," his mother said, clearing her throat uncomfortably. "She is with Thomas."

His entire body went tense.

"She had asked to see him before she leaves," Lady Hayward supplied further. "She should be out anytime soon."

He nearly scowled at his mother for acting nonchalant. They both knew why Ysabella and Thomas were talking. His brother could very well be slipping a ring into her finger now!

But it was her choice, his mind said. He had no right to change whatever decision she had come up with. As she had said in the garden, she was ready to give Thomas an answer. He simply did not expect she'd actually do it now.

"How long had they been gone?" he gritted out.

"Oh, not quite long. They shall come out, do not fret."

Wakefield was pacing the front hallway minutes later, constantly looking over at the closed parlour door. His mother was sitting outside, petting the white cat, patiently waiting for Ysabella to come out.

When finally the door to the parlour opened, Wakefield froze in his spot in the middle of the hallway.

Ysabella was smiling as Thomas leaned down to kiss her cheek.

Wakefield began to panic. His eyes went straight to her hand and fingers.

No ring.

The relief he felt was overwhelming that he suddenly felt weak.

No ring.

She refused. She said no.

As Ysabella turned and found him standing there, Thomas leaned close to whisper something in her ear and she chuckled, shoulders shaking with mirth. "I am about ready to go, my lord," she said to him. She walked away from Thomas to join his mother outside.

His eyes flew to his brother who was shaking his head. Thomas lifted his shoulders in a shrug.

I tried. Now it is your turn, were the silent words he read in the gesture.

Wakefield's eyes sauntered to Ysabella who was now making her way to his mother.

How would he even start? Somebody ought to tell him for he had no bloody idea how.