Dearest Lady Weis,

I found someone hurt and nearly dying on the side of the road while I was returning from a night at Grey's.

It does feel good to help someone, especially if you have been wasting money in a place such as Grey's, doing naught but gambling and drinking. All the while someone suffers while we have a merry time. I intend to help this person through.

But being an aide takes more responsibility than I have ever imagined. I simply hope that I can do my best to protect this person's honour—or what is left of it.

Yours,

William

*****

Ysabella let out a dramatic sigh. "I had a fight with Aurora. A small misunderstanding between friends. You would not wish to know about it, Ralph, truly you would not." Under the table Ysabella was crossing her fingers, hoping her brother would take her word and leave the matter to rest.

Ralph looked doubtful. "It better not be because of a man, Ysabella. If I find that you have been crying over Wakefield, I would make certain that you do not see the man ever again. You have been making a fool of yourself because of that rake."

Ysabella could see Emma trying to act nonchalant from one corner of her eye.

She did not say anything, simply scoffed.

"He does not return your fanciful feelings, sister. Trust me, I know for I am friends with the man. I see him as a good friend, but never as a good brother-in-law. Turn your attention on someone worthy."

She let out a small chuckle to lighten the mood. "And you have someone in mind?"

Ralph blinked. "Well, Samuel of course!"

Emma and Ysabella let out a loud laugh. Samuel chocked in his own breath.

"Why? What is wrong with my friend?"

"I would never marry him!" Ysabella uttered. "And if you so desire to make your best friend a part of the family, push him toward Emma!"

Emma blanched in horror. "I don't intend to marry ever." She shook her head. "Could we not talk about Samuel marrying either Ysabella or I? Sorry to say this, Samuel as you know I do consider you a friend, but this topic does make one lose her appetite."

Ralph merely chuckled while Samuel coughed for breath. But when their brother faced Ysabella again, his eyes were serious. "Keep in mind what I said, Ysa."

Ysabella swallowed and nodded. "Fret not, brother. I am no longer a child."

"But you are my sister," he countered before he straightened in his chair. "Now, what say you to breakfast? My God, Samuel, don't look so horrified! I was merely jesting earlier. I would never dare marry you off to any of my sisters. That would simply be unimaginable. Dare not make the wrong assumptions, my friend. These two," he said, pointing at Ysabella and Emma, "are not to be touched by any of my friends. None."

Samuel let out a nervous chuckle. Ysabella hid a smile by biting her lips.

The poor bastard would have to face a great challenge if the time came that he would decide to pursue his feelings for Emma.

A great challenge indeed.

*****

Before Ralph and Samuel could leave for their respective estates, a new batch of family callers came. The sudden arrival of Margaret and Cole and their children gave everything the two men had planned for that morning a pause, which was to sleep.

Everyone doted on the one-year old Harold while the two adopted children, Fiona and Faye would not stop talking about their adventures in Ashmore, making Ysabella feel as though everything had finally went back to normal.

"Darling, Ralph will not drop Harold," Margaret said to her husband who was watching over Ralph and Samuel as the two peered at the sleeping baby curiously.

"You yourself told me how many times he had dropped Emma when she was a babe, Meg," Cole murmured under his breath.

"You ought to see Levi as well," Emma said to their sister.

"He was here for the hunting games?" asked Margaret, her green eyes glimmering with excitement. "Was Tori here as well?"

"Of course," Emma said. "Unluckily for you, you were stuck in Ashmore. No offense meant, my lord," she added to Cole.

"None taken," Cole said, eyes still on Ralph.

"When is he going to awake?" Ralph asked, looking at his nephew with a frown.

"Are you certain he is just sleeping? He is not moving," said Samuel.

Fiona and Faye laughed. "He is not a doll!" Fiona said, jumping on the chaise beside Ralph.

"If you look closely," Faye said, bending over Harold across Samuel's lap, "he is breathing. See?"

Samuel and Ralph peered closer.

Ysabella scoffed beside Margaret. "They shall never have children. I cannot imagine it," she muttered beside her sister.

Margaret simply laughed. When she turned to face Ysabella, her expression changed. She frowned. "Have you been crying?"

"Asked the same question earlier," Ralph uttered. "Hands off, Devitt, you will have him later once we are gone," he snapped at Cole when the man made a move to get his son. With a sigh, Cole scratched his brown hair and turned toward the door.

"Mother must be tired," he said to Margaret on his way to the door, "but I would still insist that she join us for tea."

Margaret nodded to her husband and returned her attention to Ysabella. "What happened?" Her sister had a knowing look on her face, reminding Ysabella of Margaret's keen observant eyes. They could never hide a secret from Margaret. Never.

"I shall tell you later," she whispered to her sister. "For now, you must be tired. Did you come by your estate before you came here?"

"Of course. Mother was already there. We could not simply go straight here," Margaret said.

"How is Lady Ida?"

"She is well," Margaret said. "I merely hope she can stop ignoring Faye and Fiona," she added only for Emma and Ysabella to hear. The three of them watched as the two girls, Samuel and Ralph doted on the sleeping Harold.

"At the very least she accepts Harold," Emma said.

Margaret nodded.

"And the rest of us do love Faye and Fiona. That is all that matters," Ysabella said, staring lovingly at the two black-haired girls. Anyone would think they were sisters, when in fact they were simply two girls who met the same fate in the hands of very bad men until Cole and Margaret took them under their care and made them part of the family.

"By the by, will you be attending the Seymour ball?" Margaret asked.

Ysabella did not wish to go, but she knew she would have to at least show her family that she was all right. "Of course!" she said, eyeing Emma. "Our gowns are ready, are they not, Em?"

Emma simply nodded.

"Good, then. Mother has decided to stay with the children. Cole and I need a break from the ruckus, see?" Margaret said conspiratorially.

*****

"Do you not think it is about time you provide Wakefield proof that you are Lady Weis?" Emma asked later that evening when they were finally alone in their bedchamber. "Whatever Aurora is planning for those letters, you must make him see her for the devil that she truly is." Emma turned to face her when she did not offer a reply. "I know you wanted him to believe you by your own words, Ysa, but Aurora has been using dirty tricks to abolish your claims. Evil as it may sound, but you must play as hard."

She thought of her answer for a long time. "If he cannot see Lady Weis in me, then perhaps he does not love her at all. He is simply in love with the idea of her. I no longer find the desire to insist that I am she. My decision is final. I would not play the same game Aurora is playing. Lady Weis is not the only focus in this tragic affair between Wakefield and I. She has destroyed the strongest evidence of my being Lady Weis, did she not? Then let it be so."

Emma sighed. "If that is what you wish, then so be it. But surely you know the man will want to see you again. What do you intend to tell him about Aurora? Have you decided?"

"I will not."

"But she is obviously lying to him!"

"He will find out the truth eventually. It is merely a matter of time, Em. Remember Frances Highmore? She tried to frame Agatha, accused her of witchcraft, thievery. But soon everything came to light. Sooner or later, Aurora will be found out and I shall have nothing to do with it."

"And when do you intend to face him?"

That was a hard question to answer. "I know I ought to face him, to talk to him." She scoffed. "I know my old self, the one that is not hurting and could clearly think, would slap me at this very moment and tell me that I am being foolish." Her lips quivered as she spoke. "But I am scared of the truth. Fear could indeed make one do foolish things."

"You are showing remarkable patience and strength for someone who is hurting, Ysa. I admire it the most."

She sighed. "But I must admit I am quite tired of all of this, Em. I quite miss being just wicked and bored."

Emma laughed. "Matchmaking lovers?"

"Definitely."

Her sister's laughter started to die down. "He might be in attendance at the Seymour ball," Emma said.

"I know," Ysabella said with a sigh. "Which is why I must look immensely pretty and confident, yes? I have to hide the fear."

Emma chuckled, shaking her head. "And all the while I have been thinking I have lost my sister in her grief." She rang for the maid. "Very well, then, sister, let us get ready for the ball."

*****

"I was not expecting you to be here, my lord," Aurora said. "I am hoping to spend the rest of my time preparing for the ball, see?"

"I will not be long," Wakefield said, hands in his pockets as he stared down at Aurora from where she was sitting in the chaise in her drawing room. "I came to ask you something."

She frowned. "What is it?"

"What did you truly say to Ysabella?"

She blinked, her face innocently confused. "What do you mean?"

"When she came here thinking you and I are lovers. What did you tell her?"

Her eyes wavered. "Well, I tried to tell her the truth, of course! But she would not believe me. She was too angry, see?" When Wakefield merely stared, she frowned, her eyes registering alarm. "Why do I sense that you are worried what Ysa thinks of us? You do not care about her, do you?" He refused to say anything. "What truly happened in Bertram?" she pressed on.

His entire body tightened. "I never told you I went to Bertram."

Aurora's eyes flickered with annoyance. "Do not take me for a fool, William. You both returned the same day."

He sighed. "What happened there no longer concerns you." He turned to leave.

"Will you not escort me to the ball?" she asked, her tone teasing and provocative.

Instead of answering her question, Wakefield slowly turned to stare at her with warning. "If I find out you have said anything that you ought not to have, Aurora, I will tell Ysabella the truth and you shall find yourself on your own once again. You would not want that, do you? He would then find it easy to get to you."

He saw the fear in her eyes, mixed with panic and anger.

"You do not cross the man who has been kind to you, Aurora. Nor do you meddle in his affairs," he added. "Do you understand?"

It took her quite some time to move and nod.

"Good." He forced himself to smile. "Go to the ball on your own. I have other plans."

He left her alone in her drawing room. He had to find Ysabella soon and force her to face him.

It was time to chase a lady.

*****

Wakefield knew, that from the very moment he entered the ball, heads turned to his direction.

It was not because they were excited to see him, it was because he was still the topic of many gossips. It seemed that Lady Weis was still the juiciest subject despite the lack of articles on the Herald.

It also did not take him long to find what he was looking for. A group of black-haired people gathered together on one side of the ballroom reeked of naught but of Everard presence.

But to his great disappointment and horror, the brothers were there, including Margaret Everard-Devitt and her husband.

From a far distance, he could hear someone calling out his name. One of his friends mayhap, but he took no notice as he was quite occupied counting the number of Everard brothers that might possibly make this quest a challenge.

Maxwell. Nicholas. Ralph. Should he count Cole Devitt? How about Samuel Theobald? Emma Everard might as well be amongst the men in his honest opinion. The lady had spotted him long before any of her family did and she was glaring at him from across the room like one of the animals he used to hunt.

Wakefield almost shouted a loud 'NO!' when Emma craned her neck and whispered something in Ysabella's ear. She had her back at him, dressed in a blue gown, talking to Margaret and Cole, and she stiffened at whatever Emma said.

He had found himself frozen in place when he saw the Everards, but when Ysabella stiffly turned and walked away from the group he almost leaped to his feet and ran. The crowd parted as he stormed across the ballroom to follow her, making a sharp left turn when she changed her course, determined to get to her, desperate to hold her and talk to her.

This was not how he had imagined their courtship would be. But if he had to do it, then he'd simply have to.

She had crossed numerous balls, suffered the watchful eyes of the ton, too many times in the past simply to ask him for a dance. He had always thought she might have enjoyed it. He never thought it was bloody scary and tough!

From the corner of his eye, he saw Maxwell, Nicholas and Ralph following him with watchful eyes. Emma was standing close by her brothers. He cared not if they would torture him after this. He cared not if they would tie him in a chair and box the hell out of him.

For now he merely had one goal—her.

He followed Ysabella out of the ballroom and into the gardens, past the guests who came out for air, past their curious glances.

They must think it ironic to find him chasing Ysabella Everard this time around. The one who used to escape was now the chaser of his former chaser.

"Ysa," he called from behind her. It was not hard to find her as she was wearing a marvellous gown. And he knew it was quite heavy by the way he managed to catch up to her. He had not seen her face for she did her best not to see him.

"Ysa—"

"What do you want?" she snapped, surprising him by whirling around, by the brave look in her beautiful green eyes.

He was speechless for a moment. He had been chasing her yet ended being the one attacked.

"What do you want?" she asked again, voice cold as ice. It sent a chill up his spine. This was another side of her he had never seen before. She was furious and he was at the centre of it. "I figure this is the moment we must talk, yes? So tell me what do you want?"

You. And more, his mind selfishly answered.

He swallowed. He looked about and saw no one. When his eyes returned to hers, she arched a brow, impatient and provocative. The different looks she had given him in the past up to this moment flashed before his eyes.

Bloody hell, he loved this woman.

Stunned at his own realization, Wakefield blinked, his chest constricting, making it hard for him to breathe.

How? How did it come about?

But did he truly care? Did it truly matter?

Do not think of it now, you bloody idiot, his mind shouted.

"I—I intend to continue what I said in the carriage," he said, taking one step toward her. She took one step back. He felt a sense of familiarity but he brushed it aside, focusing his attention entirely on her, on how he could make her stay and listen. "I said I will court you and I intend to do that. And I have to—"

"You have to confess that Aurora is your lover? That you are planning to end it with her so you could pursue me the proper way?" she interrupted, voice filled with revulsion.

"No, that is not true. She is not my lover. She never was."

She scoffed, blinked. He saw the confusion in her eyes before she blinked it away, doubt clouding her eyes. "I find that hard to believe when she herself has confessed to it."

Wakefield stiffened. "She told me she tried to tell you the truth. Yes, she is under my care, but not in the manner that you must be thinking. She is not my lover, Ysa. You must believe that."

"Then she has been lying to you. She is using you. Do you even know what she had done behind your back?" He blinked, his mind muddled.

Ysabella scoffed with incredulity. "She has been playing her cards well, I believe."

"Whatever do you mean?"

Ysabella was silent for a moment, struggling whether or not she should speak. And when a decision was made, she said, "She stole all the letters you sent Lady Weis—all of them!"

Now he was immensely baffled. What the bloody hell was she talking about?

She was unstoppable now. He knew it for her words were filled with rage as she advanced toward him. "She took them all because she does not wish for you to realize who Lady Weis is. I saw proof that she stole them!"

Wakefield frowned. "Ysa, please, let us no longer talk about Lady Weis. She no longer matters."

She was shaking her head in disbelief, but one directed at herself. "No. I have thought so as well that Lady Weis no longer matters, but she does! She does when Aurora is using her to her advantage!"

Bloody hell, he did not expect this. Why could no one stop talking about bloody Lady Weis! "I found her," he spoke, slowly, carefully. He saw the confusion in her eyes. "She came to me with the letters I sent Lady Weis. I am yet to confirm, but they were the actual letters I penned myself."

"She could have bought them from Aurora!"

"She could not have easily gotten them considering her station."

"What station?" she asked.

"She's a servant. See?"

"Then Aurora must have given them to her in an attempt to throw you off your search! And she is succeeding! You do not believe me at all, do you? Of course you do not. You never did."

Wakefield ran his hand through his hair. How could he make her understand? He could not deny that Aurora might be capable of doing such act, but that would have to be proven first. And he did not wish to prove that now. Not now when he was facing Ysabella and the most important thing was for her to believe she was all that mattered at the moment.

"You think I am lying, do you?" she asked, her voice shaking with rage.

She did not have to talk about Aurora's sins for he did not bloody care. "Ysa, please, you have to—"

She slapped his hand away when he tried to reach out. "I never lied to you, my lord. If anyone has been lying, it has always been you. You have been lying to yourself when you kept saying that I was a child, which you must probably still think now, when you and I both know that I am more than that!"

Of course she was more than that—she was more than anyone could ever be. But how would he have the chance to let her realize that when she would not listen to him?

At that moment, he did not care about the truth. He did not care where Rosa Gimer took the letters, or how she acquired them, or if she was truly Lady Weis. He did not care how Ysabella thought Aurora took the letters, or why she had to question his trust.

For once he was merely seeing her, the hurt in her emerald eyes, the struggle for strength in her face, the shaking in her voice as she struggled to draw more courage. All he cared about was her. Her, Ysabella Everard.

She finally managed to make him want to fall on his knees. He would if she could simply forget Lady Weis and be the same woman he wanted.

A part of him was angry, thinking that she might be standing there playing her old game. That part of him hated that he might have fallen victim to her tricks. She could finally brag about making the rake drop to his knees and she'd leave and find another game to play. So yes, that part of him was angry.

But he also knew that the Ysabella he knew would not treat this as a game. The Ysabella he discovered would dare not break him.

He wanted this clamour over Lady Weis to stop. He simply wanted to start anew.

He pulled her toward him, eliciting a gasp from her. She tried to break away but he was stronger. "Stop, Ysabella, please," he choked. He wanted to stop the time so he could think, so he could figure out the right words to say.

He was a bloody idiot after all, he thought. Any man inside that ballroom would know how to make an angry lady swoon, but he was greatly failing.

She whimpered in tears and tried to speak but he leaned his forehead against her, eyes closed.

"Stop," he uttered for he could not think of any word to describe what he wanted. "Stop."

"Step away from our sister, Wakefield," a cold voice said from behind them.

Wakefield whirled around to see her brothers standing a few paces away with Emma and Margaret at both sides. And behind the Everards was Aurora looking quite horrified along with almost half of the entire ballroom population.

He lifted his eyes to meet three pairs of murderous green eyes.

Bloody tarnation.