A Lady's Guide to Courtship

XV. The Climb

For a moment a picture of Ysabella wearing a wedding gown flashed before his eyes. He shook his head. No, it couldn't be. She was Ysabella Everard. No one else. He ought not to let her put such foolish pictures in his mind. Her green eyes glimmered with the familiar wickedness he was accustomed to, but tonight the effects were quite different. He did not like this at all. Not when he had more important things to deal with.

"Go inside, little one," he bit out the last two words rather too loud than necessary, reminding himself who he was facing. This was the woman who went to such extent to claim she was the woman he fell in love in letters. She couldn't be Lady Weis. Lady Weis was a woman—Ysabella Everard was a childish chit.

A provocative, childish chit, the tiniest voice in his mind said.

Mentally shaking his head from the thought, he watched when she gave him a short curtsy, wearing naught but a coat over her night dress. He frowned when she turned and started walking to the side of the estate and not the front doors.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Back to my chambers, of course," she said over her shoulder.

"And where do you suppose the door is?" he asked, following her, his steps hesitant.

"The window," she replied.

"The what?"

"I do not intend to use the door, my lord," she said, turning around to face him, walking backward. Her black hair was in disarray, escaped strays swinging beside her face, the light from the lamps above her giving her a soft glow. At that moment she was a picture of someone he'd... he did not continue the thought as she added, "I'll use the window." She turned on her heels and continued walking.

He followed her to the back of the house and into the garden.

"You do not have to come, you know," she said, tone amused.

"Yes," was his murmured reply, but he found himself following her still until they reached a wall with a rope hanging from one of the windows on the second landing. The ropes had knots along its length to assist a climb, but how in the bloody hell could she climb up there alone? "How do you intend to do it?" he asked, unsure of her ability.

"I am used to climbing on things, if you must know. I have quite the experience," she said with confidence, reaching for the rope, pulling at it to test its strength. "The first time we tried to climb on something, it was a tree in the woods. We were with Ben and Agatha who was our governess then."

"As I have been told, that event did not end very well for you and your sister," he pointed out.

"Benedict," she corrected. "It did not end well with Benedict. He did acquire an injury in his attempt to save us."

Wakefield scoffed in disbelief when she chuckled in mirth at the memory.

"Well," she said, her voice now a loud whisper in an attempt to be quiet, "there was also the time when Emma and I helped Tori climb down from her own window using one of her father's giant stone statues. That was before she married Levi."

"I do not recall you and your sister climbing up to her bedroom window. Levi told me you waited on the ground."

"Well, we would have climbed if we needed to," she reasoned, tugging at the rope once more.

"By the look of the rope, I have to believe that you have used this before tonight."

"Of course!" she hissed with a laugh, her emerald green eyes filled with wickedness and mirth altogether. "Do you truly think yourself too great for me to prepare this rope to escape my chamber and see you? Of course not, my lord." Her silent chuckle made his lips twitch. It was quite contagious that he momentarily forgot the craziness of this night. "Emma and I used to go out and go to the woods in a night like this one. We would spend many hours there talking and gazing up at the sky through the holes. The sky is quite spectacular at night, do you know?"