Dearest William,

Mayhap you would wish to go with friends on your quest to go around the entire Town.

I am aware that you are friends with the Everards. Mayhap they would be delighted to accompany you.

Your friend,

Lady Weis

*****

What awaited him in the parlour was not what he had expected at all.

Although Morris did warn him he might be surprised, the fact still remained that he was facing not merely someone who did not belong to his station, but a servant.

The young woman came to her feet the very moment he strode into the parlour and bowed her head. She was dressed very plainly. She looked composed and neat.

"Morris has informed me that you have proof," he said, walking closer, desiring no time for small talks.

The woman nodded.

He frowned. She had dark hair, her face pale and entirely common. She was not extraordinarily beautiful as he had imagined, but he had never truly expected her to be. What he expected her was to be true and at that moment, Wakefield could not feel it.

When she lifted her eyes to meet his, he found brown eyes staring at him with longing. "Yes," was her whispered reply.

Wakefield did not speak and waited for her to say more. Instead she turned and bent to pick a box from the floor.

His heart began to pound against his chest as she held out her arms, offering the box to him.

He took it from her and opened it. Inside were the letters he had penned himself, letters he had sent to Lady Weis.

He swallowed. He did not wish for them to be real, but they were. He recognized the broken wax seals he had stamped himself.

She let out a shaky breath, drawing his attention back at her. "Now you must realize why I never wanted you to know who I am."

"Because you are a servant?" he asked in a sardonic tone. "Do you think me that shallow?"

She shook her head. "No, of course not. You have told me you would accept me in whatever form I may be—that you would not care if I am without limbs or, as you have so luckily and innocently guessed, a servant." Her eyes met his. "It is merely because I think myself too low." Her eyes went to the letters in the box. "The things you have talked about were all true, yet the things I have told you were mere lies—fantasies of a woman confined in a life filled with limitations."

His jaw tightened. He did not know why but he could not believe her. He refused to. "If you are truly her, then please tell me how you acquired the letters I sent. Surely you know how they are being delivered."

He carefully watched her every move, even the movement of her throat as she swallowed. "A cousin of mine works for Lord Theobald in his Buford estate. She was the one who had been delivering the letters to where I work."

"And where do you work?"

She hesitated for a moment before she replied, "Lady Gedge."

A very long silence reigned between them as Wakefield considered her words. "You claim to be Lady Weis and yet you tell me that everything you have said in the letters were naught but lies."

She nodded. "I am sorry, my lord. I wish you would forgive me. I came here for my conscience has been nagging me." She clasped her hands tightly in front of her. "I do not expect that you forgive me, nor profess the same love you have said in your letters. I no longer wish for anything but to be free of my conscience."

Anger flickered inside him. "You cannot expect me to believe you quite so easily, madam," he icily uttered. "You are yet to prove to me that I am not a victim of an insane plot to disregard Lady Weis' identity."

The woman drew a shaky breath. "Yes, I understand."

"Now," he said, walking over to a table where he placed the box before returning to stand before her. "Tell me your name."

"Rosa Gimer, my lord."

Even her name did not emit the reaction he had expected when he imagined himself facing Lady Weis.

"I was at the Cinderella ball," she said under her breath, the mention of the ball bringing back memories of the night that changed his life.

Yet nothing in the woman emitted any reaction from him. He knew in his heart she was not the same woman he kissed that night. The woman who kissed him wanted him, but he did not see the same desire in the woman facing him now. What he could merely see was remorse and fear.

Wakefield merely scoffed at the incredulity of it all.

If it was true that she was Lady Weis, then he did not want anything to do with her. Not because she was a mere servant, but because he could not see the woman he thought he had fallen in love with in the letters.

What he was seeing in front of him was not the Lady Weis of his mind. He could not seem to feel the same feelings he felt when he was facing Lady Weis in the darkness. He could not seem to feel her.

Or was it because he had already long accepted that she was but a mere illusion, a picture his mind created while he was reading her letters? Was it because he was no longer interested in knowing her in person?

Was it because his mind was already thinking of going out to head straight to the Everard estate instead of sitting here to know more of this woman?

Whatever the answer was, he knew what he wanted now. And it was not Lady Weis, and it definitely was not this woman.

"I have somewhere important to go to, Miss Gimer," he finally said, stepping aside. "I cannot talk to you for now for I honestly do not know what to make of this, but you can be certain you shall hear from me soon."

The woman nodded. When he motioned his hand to the door, she jumped to her feet to leave.

"By the by, Miss Gimer," Wakefield said, "If you truly are Lady Weis, you will know that I will most definitely look through the letters to see if in fact you are telling the truth."

Rosa Gimer stiffened. "Yes, of course, my lord."

"And you know that I shall have questions."

"Yes, my lord."

He nodded. "You may leave, Miss Gimer."

He watched as she scurried to the door and when he was finally alone, he was deep in thought.

Was she telling the truth? Was she truly a servant who had been trying to live in a fantasy, or one who was tasked to play with him?

*****

"Wakefield is waiting in the parlour, requesting for your presence," Emma informed Ysabella.

"I do not wish to see him, Em," Ysabella said from the bed. "I might slit his throat if I do."

Emma moved and sat beside her on the bed. "Do you not think it is best if you face him? It is better that you do so you do not spend your time asking yourself the same questions you know he can only provide answers to."

Ysabella merely shook her head, a tear escaping her eye.

Emma sighed. "What happened in Bertram, Ysa? Aurora said Wakefield was there and if I recall correctly, you had said you had exciting news to share before you went to Aurora's estate and found the ribbons."

She veered her eyes toward her sister and hesitated.

"You can tell me anything, you know that, yes?"

She whimpered and took in a deep breath. And then she told her sister everything that happened in Bertram up to the moment she reached Wickhurst with Wakefield.

Her sister's eyes had shown excitement when she shared about the short courtship between her and Thomas, amusement when she told her about the change in Wakefield's attitude toward her, longing and excitement over her adventure at Meriwether and finally confusion after she admitted that Wakefield was intending to court her.

"Now you see why I cannot bear to see him? He told me he shall court me and all the while he has been keeping my friend as a lover! I feel utterly betrayed. We are not even wed yet and he has already chosen to keep such a painful secret from me!"

Emma kept her silence as Ysabella sobbed in tears. "We still have to consider the fact that Aurora is a lying wench, Ysa. She could have been lying to us about Wakefield."

Ysabella considered it, but it was highly unlikely Aurora was lying. The woman had been too confident. She knew of Wakefield's plan to go to Bertram and such information would not have been easily acquired if she was not closely privy to his activities.

The very image of Wakefield with Aurora together sent a chill through Ysabella's spine. She shook her head. "I have no desire to see him, Em. None at all. None at the moment."

"Very well, I shall have Jefferson tell him that you are indisposed to callers." Emma stood and walked to the door.

"Em, please do not tell Mother," Ysabella said to her sister.

"She is currently at Cole and Margaret's estate. They are to arrive in one or two days. She has taken it upon herself to facilitate the household for their arrival."

Ysabella's eyes welled with tears at the thought of their sister. Margaret would know what to do. She always had. And it would be immensely helpful if she was here.

"Thank you, Em," she said. "For everything."

Emma nodded, hand on the door handle. "But you know that you will have to face the man sooner or later, Ysa. And you do know we cannot hide this from the family should things turn to worse."

Ysabella simply turned to the other side of the bed without a reply.

As much as she loved the man, she could not bear to face him. Not now when she was hating him.

*****

Disappointed that Ysabella would not face him, much to Jefferson's obvious satisfaction, Wakefield walked out of the Everard estate with a new plan.

He'd call on her as often as he had to until she would face him. She was testing his patience and perseverance, he thought. And he would not stand idle and let her think he was one to give up.

Making a sudden decision to visit Aurora, Wakefield ordered his driver to take him there. He would have to tell her that she would soon have to find a way to solve her problem alone for he did not intend to do it for her for the rest of her life. She would have to make plans, one that did not include him.

But by the time he walked into the estate, the butler informed him that Aurora had been hurt that morning. Wishing to hear the details from her, Wakefield walked straight to her bedchamber where he found her standing in front of the window with a glass of wine in her hand.

"What happened?" he asked, relieved that she was not bedridden.

Aurora turned, surprised to see him standing in the doorway. "What made you think something happened?"

"The butler said you have been attacked. Was it him? How did he enter the estate?"

She shook her head. "No, it was not him."

"Then you were not attacked?"

Her eyes wavered. "Ysabella and Emma were here this morning."

Wakefield frowned in confusion.

Aurora's eyes were brimming with tears before she blinked them away. She gulped down the rest of her wine. For a brief moment, Wakefield heard Ysabella's voice asking him, "Do you have lemonade?" which was absurd that he thought of it at that moment.

He missed her. He knew he did. Bloody hell, he needed to see her soon or he would go insane. He was already hearing her voice in his mind!

"She knows," Aurora's voice said, snapping him back from his thoughts.

"What do you mean?"

"About our connection."

He stiffened. "How?"

Aurora shrugged. "I do not know. She and Emma came here, accusing me of being your lover." A tear dropped from her eye. "She is desperate, William. She will use her lies to get you. Now I am afraid she'd tell everyone about my true nature. I would not want to live the rest of my life like this!"

Wakefield's confusion turned to panic. Was that why she refused to see him earlier? She believed he and Aurora were lovers?

"What did you tell her?"

"I was utterly shocked to say anything. They started to attack me in the middle of the corridor. I could barely remember everything we said to each other. All I remember is the shouting, that's all."

Aurora went to the corner and poured herself more wine.

"If she spreads such rumour about me, I am over and done with. Everything I have worked hard for shall go to waste."

"She would not go as far as that."

Aurora scoffed. "You do not know her very well then, my lord." She snapped her eyes toward him. "She would do anything to get what she wants."

He refused to believe that. The Ysabella Everard he knew in Bertram would not do such a thing.

Without warning, Wakefield whirled on his heels.

"Where are you going?" Aurora asked.

"Home," he lied.

"But—"

He did not hear the rest of her words for he was already bounding down the stairs. He reached his carriage in less than a minute, shouting to his driver, "The Everard estate!"

Although the carriage was doing its best, Wakefield felt it was not fast enough. He needed to see her, to talk to her. He wanted to tell her the truth about Aurora. He wanted to tell her that he had found Lady Weis and that he was now certain who he wanted.

Feeling as if his entire stomach was climbing up to his throat, Wakefield bounded down the carriage even before it came to a full stop when they reached their desitation.

He did not go straight to the front doors for he knew it would be fruitless. Instead, turned to the side of the estate, across the gardens and circled to the back of the manor, taking the same path Ysabella took that night she trespassed into his carriage.

He would bloody hell break her window if he had to, he thought as he picked up a pebble and aimed for her window.

*****

Emma scrambled out of bed in alarm. The first time they heard it, both of them thought nothing of it. But when it was followed by two more, they both sat up in bed.

"Someone is outside our window," Emma said, running toward it. She opened it and Ysabella watched as her sister gasped in fascination. "Lord Wakefield?"

Ysabella froze in bed, her heart leaping out of her chest.

She heard a loud hushed voice from down below through the open window.

"He wishes to speak to you," Emma said over her shoulder.

"No," was her fast reply. She was vehemently shaking her head. The tears were starting to erupt once more.

He must have learned what had happened from Aurora. He saw her tonight and he learned about what happened this morning, the bloody bastard!

"She is asleep," her sister easily lied, poking half of her body out the window to speak to Wakefield. "No, my lord, I cannot very well wake her up. You should try to call on her some other day at a proper hour. Good night!" Emma leaned away from the window and closed it. She drew the curtains closed before she turned to Ysabella. "Oh, Ysa..." she said when she saw Ysabella shaking with tears.

Emma joined her in bed, pulling her into her arms where she cried harder. "You have me, Ysa," Emma promised.

As her tears subsided in tiny sniffing moments later, Emma whispered, "What do you intend to do next?"

"I am at a loss, Em. I do not know what to do. He has taken Aurora as his lover knowing she was my friend, knowing how I felt toward him. And although I do not want to be angry at him, I find that I am—utterly so. He has been bedding her and he never said anything! This is worse than him refusing to see Lady Weis in me."

"Hush now," said Emma. "Your head shall be clearer on the morrow."

*****

But the morning was as dire as yesterday, Ysabella thought when she opened her eyes.

Emma was patiently sitting in one corner, already dressed for breakfast, holding a book.

Ysabella's eyes were swollen with tears but she closed them and tried her best to be grateful for yet another day.

Mayhap tomorrow would be better, she thought, pushing away from the bed.

"Are you ready for breakfast?" she asked Emma, mustering a smile.

Emma answered her with a smile and closed her book. "Yes, of course. I believe Mother shall not be joining us, but you must know that Agatha and Ben are also on their way here."

Ysabella allowed a genuine smile to show on her face. "They are?"

"Ben wants Agatha to have the best doctors from Wickhurst when she delivers the baby. They shall stay here for quite some time until the babe is born."

She leaped out of bed, quite excited. "Another baby! Now I am starting to believe this day is good after all!"

She saw Emma's mellow smile but she ignored it and rang for the maid.

Half an hour later, she and Emma were in the breakfast room, talking about Margaret and Cole's arrival in Wickhurst and the upcoming Seymour ball when suddenly Ralph burst in with Samuel in tow.

Emma frowned at their brother. "Whatever are you doing here, Ralph?"

"Breakfast, of course," Ralph said, walking over to an empty chair beside Ysabella.

"Good morning, ladies," Samuel greeted with a smile, his eyes lingering longer on Emma who merely gave him a nod before she returned her attention to her food. "Your brother and I had spent the night at Grey's," he began to explain, settling beside Emma, "where we both fell asleep in one of the tables. Considering our estates are quite far, we figured we shall share a meal with you—"

"Why are your eyes swollen, Ysabella?" Ralph's question stopped the rest of Samuel's words. Everyone stared at Ysabella.

"Swollen? Why, I just woke up, of course they are swollen!"

Gone was the naughty glint in her brother's eyes, replaced by a dangerously serious one. "You have been crying." It was not a question. "Why?" Ralph demanded, eyes murderous.