Dear Lady Weis,

I am not aware of any presence of a feline around the premises of my estate.

In agreement that your letter is odd,

William Hayward, Lord of Wakefield

*****

Ysabella did not speak for she could not find a word to say. As the carriage turned to a different direction she looked out the window in alarm.

Was he abducting her?

"My brother would not like this at all, my lord," she managed to say in a deadpan voice and the grin was wiped off his face. "Where do you intend to take me?"

He shrugged. "I truly do not care at the moment." His voice was calm and composed, far from the one he used during their talk in the parlour.

But his gaze was the same—intense and determined. Ysabella swallowed, her heart hammering against her chest.

"Are you giving up, Ysa?" he asked, eyes wary.

She blinked. "Yes. I am leaving as you can see," she uttered with defiance, sticking her chin out.

His jaw tightened. "Why?" he whispered.

She wanted to leap across the carriage and throw her arms around him but she stopped himself. Praying for strength, she started, "I have been reading a book on how to court a lord for quite some time now." His brows arched with wonder. "I've read it from cover to cover too many times than necessary. And do you know the most important lesson it taught me?" she asked, voice shaking.

Slowly, he shook his head, his eyes staring at her with longing.

"Know the right moment to leave."

At her words, his eyes flickered with raw fear and he did not bother to hide it.

Once more, Ysabella stopped herself from reaching out to him.

As the carriage continued to roll down the empty street, Wakefield reached for something inside his coat. When his hand came out, her eyes widened. He was holding her white mask in her hand.

He laid it down beside him without a word.

"Ah, the evidence you wanted," Ysabella said, hoping to sound nonchalant. "Did my sister send it? She ought not to have. I had wanted you to believe me by my own words, not by mere evidence." With a sigh, she looked out the window. "I wonder who helped you convince the driver to take me away in such a scandalous manner. It must be Emma."

"Ysa, will you listen to what I have to say?" his voice begged.

"That you now believe me to be Lady Weis?" she asked, snapping her eyes back at him. "Well, of course you should. You now have the mask and—"

"I realized the truth this morning after I've gone through the letters. The mask was delivered just tonight."

Realizing what his words meant, her heart swelled with relief, but then she could not simply make this easy for him. So she shrugged. "Well, she no longer matters, really."

"Of course she does," he said, peering down to catch her eyes. "She is a part of you—a small part of the whole you."

Ysabella remained silent. When she made a move to avert her eyes, he kneeled on the floor of the carriage so he was closer to her, looking up at her with pleading eyes.

"You questioned how I can love someone I barely know," he continued, tone growing desperate. "But I do know you, Ysabella. I started to the moment I caught you stealing turkey in Theobald."

Her nose flared as she fought the tears that threatened to escape.

"Before I knew who Lady Weis is, I could not accept anyone for I could not see her in anyone. I refused to do so. She was unique and almost unreal in my mind. She was like the fairy tale you have been talking about." He reached out to take her hand and she let him. She let him because she wanted to and because she felt weak to pull back.

His hand rubbed the top of hers, his eyes searching hers. "And then I started seeing you—the real you." He gulped, his hands shaking around hers with his words. "In my head, Lady Weis had no actual voice. Ysabella Everard does. You talk too loud and too provocatively. You like to sing and although I am yet to hear it, I know it will be quite as awful as your pianoforte skills, but I would love it nonetheless because you love doing it and find no shame in it. I could listen to your voice all day talking about everything and anything that might fit your fancy."

Her lips shivered and she could no longer stop her tears and they rolled down her cheeks. He reached up to wipe them away with his fingers.

"Lady Weis never talked about her friends and her adventures with them in fear of giving out clues of her identity. Ysabella Everard forced me to join hers. You are friends with bandits and I am not certain if I can live with that, but I love that you draw no lines around you.

"I never read about Lady Weis' adventures in specifics. Ysabella Everard let me join hers. You forced me into so many frustrating, challenging and exciting journeys to your very being and your life. You are carefree and honest and you love truly."

He seemed unstoppable now. His words rolled ought of his tongue and she could barely keep up. But she realized what he was trying to do. He was letting her know that she knew her, her and Lady Weis.

"In my head, Lady Weis knew the worst of me through my letters but all the while I never knew Ysabella Everard saw more than that—she saw far beyond that and she wanted me far beyond that." He choked at his last word and he swallowed. "You... you showed me everything that Lady Weis never was and I love every single part of you. I love you, Ysabella Everard, all of you."

Ysabella's shoulders were now shaking as she whimpered in tears and wonder.

"I do not deserve your love, but I want it. I yearn for it and I will work my arse off to prove to you that I love you the same. I fell for you in more ways I did for the woman who penned those letters. You have crept into my heart, Ysabella, and I God smite me right this moment if I do not accept it."

When Ysabella saw his tears through her own, she finally gave in. She slowly slumped down toward him and he caught her as she caught his face in her hands and kissed him, tasting her own tears. She heard his great sigh of relief when she wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight embrace and buried her face in his shoulder.

"I love you," he whispered, kissing her shoulder. "I love you."

This was far from what she had imagined. Not as far-fetched or impossible, but it was real.

Gently leaning away from her, Wakefield cupped her face and wiped her tears dry with his thumbs. "You are not going to Devonshire, are you?"

She scoffed and shook her head, eyes filling with fresh tears.

When he leaned to kiss her, she pushed him away. "Would you not wish for me to wear the mask? You might just recognize Lady Weis' kiss," she could not help but jest.

He groaned and leaned his forehead against hers, eyes tightly closed as if in pain. "Do stop tormenting me, Ysa," he begged. "I already do feel utterly stupid."

"Ah, but I shall live to torment you for years."

He stiffened in her arms and she leaned away to frown at him with confusion. He started laughing, squeezing away tears from both eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "You cannot imagine how I have longed to hear those words," he said before he pulled her down toward him for a kiss.

*****

Wakefield did not realize that Ysabella had slid down from her seat and was straddling him on the carriage floor for the kiss was just as he had remembered it at Blucksley. It was consuming. His hands pulled her closer, shaping her waist, her hips as his hungry mouth danced with hers.

There seemed to be a sense of urgency from them both and it took so much of his strength to lean away from her. Breathing heavily, his shaking hands gathered her long waves behind her nape so he can clearly see her face.

"I should take you home now," he said with a groan.

She smiled. "You are not considering Tiny Town?" she asked, batting her eyes, her eyelashes still damp with tears.

He closed his eyes and growled under his breath. Kissing her one more time, Wakefield guided her back on her seat and settled across from her. He held out his arm when she attempted to cross the distance between them. "Ysa, please, do not tempt me."

She snorted. The glimmer in her eyes that he never knew he had been longing for had returned.

"Tiny Town is—"

"You and I are to be married in a church," he firmly stated.

She blinked in surprise then smiled. "Can I invite the bandits?"

His eyes widened. "Your brother is a bloody Town Guard, but if you could ask them to kindly dress up and promise not to steal anything, even a mere spoon, then you can have your way and have your friends at the wedding."

She laughed at his reaction. "Do not fret. I shall only invite Alex. And Barto and Ned might want to come too."

He groaned.

"But we must talk about the now, William," she said in a serious tone. "You abducted me using our own carriage and my brothers could probably be hunting for us both by now." She met his eyes with equal determination. "So I highly suggest we go home to your estate instead."

Wakefield just stared at her in disbelief for a few seconds before he let out a helpless chuckle.

Knowing he would not agree, she further said, "I would not wish my mother to witness how my brothers will deal with you, you know."

He gave her a patient smile, shoulders still shaking with mirth. "No, darling, I shall face your brothers tonight if I have to."

He gave the carriage roof another knock as Ysabella asked, "Are you quite certain? They will be furious. Your estate is quite near and—"

"You are not to step into my estate until our wedding day," he said with finality.

Her lips pursed.

He reached for her hand and pulled her across toward him. His arm wrapped around her waist, sliding her closer beside him. "We both have to be patient. We are going to do this properly. We are to go to balls, dance in them, enjoy them. We shall go to the park and you are yet to tour me to Haram. We are yet to have a proper picnic in the woods. There are too many things I plan to do with you."

"But William, that seems to last forever and—"

He silenced her with a kiss. And before he knew it, they had already returned outside the Everard manor.

He reluctantly reached for the door and climbed out. He reached for her hand and to his surprise, Ysabella pulled him back inside, her smile and eyes wicked. "Does my breath smell?" he asked, smiling, his lips brushing hers.

A chuckle rumbled in her throat before she gave him a quick kiss. "I love you, William Hayward."

"And I believe you do," he said, stepping away to help her down the carriage.

As they walked up from the driveway, the front doors opened and Emma slipped out.

"What has taken you so long?" Emma demanded in a hushed tone.

It was only then that Wakefield realized she was carrying a black cat in one arm. And the feline seemed to be looking at him as though he was the most stupid human it had ever encountered.

"I suggest you do not face my brothers for now, my lord. They have been awfully quiet in the drawing room since they discovered Ysa is missing. I had to assure them that she is completely safe but I am afraid they might start thinking otherwise. Them being too deafeningly calm and quiet is not good at all, see?"

But Wakefield was only half-listening as he continued to stare at the cat. "That is the bloody cat that started it all, is it not?" he asked Ysabella.

Ysabella chuckled, nodding her head. She turned to fully face him, giving him a shove. "Go for now. You heard Emma."

"No, I shall face them—"

"No, not tonight," Emma hissed. "It is best if you wait for them to come to you." When he started to protest, Emma added, "And Mother is here."

Wakefield gave in with a sigh. He looked at Ysabella. "I have important matters to attend to the entire day and tonight," he said, "but I will come and call on you on the morrow."

She nodded with a knowing look. She knew what he was planning to do. He would tell her everything soon, but for now, he wanted her to sleep in peace and spend the day free or worry.

Emma started to pull Ysabella away but Wakefield grabbed her hand and pulled her back for a kiss.

"I love you," he whispered, hearing Emma's wry voice saying, "Oh, goodness, not here!"

He turned to Emma to add, "Thank you."

The lady merely rolled her eyes.

Wakefield left, his mind already on the task at hand.

He had won the lady he wanted.

Now, it was time to face the one who nearly made it impossible.