Dearest Lady Weis,
I did enjoy my visit to Sheills, thank you. As a matter of fact, a friend of mine invited me to visit a marvellous place in their woods. The holes were as big as those in Wickhurst, but I must say they have the most beautiful collection of trees. One, in particular, was in full bloom and if I am correct, they call it Cherry Blossom.
I wish you could see them in the future. You would find them quite lovely, even romantic!
Yours,
William
*****
"I was invited, was I not, Mother?" was Wakefield's fast and easy reply.
Lady Hayward seemed to be the only person in the room to accept it for Thomas and Ysabella remained staring at him as though he was the biggest liar in town.
"Or was I misinformed and my presence here is unwanted?" he added, turning to his brother. "Is it, dear brother?"
He saw Thomas' eyes flash with a glint of anger before he expertly covered it with a bright smile. "Of course, you are welcome, William. In fact, you are just in time for supper."
"Ah, at last!" Ysabella said from where she was standing. She started walking when Thomas turned, after giving Wakefield a curious look, to accompany their mother.
He managed to grab her arm to pull her back. Ysabella snapped her head up to stare at him, baffled. A tight smile was fixed on his face as he waited until his mother exited the room after Thomas.
When at last they were alone, with barely a few moments to spare before their absence would be noted, his smile disappeared and he frowned down at Ysabella. "What sort of foolish idea came to you that you allowed yourself be dragged here?"
Her frown hooded her green globes. And then realization crossed her features. "Are you here because you think you are rescuing me from something?"
His hand tightened around her arm. "You must be wary of my brother, even my mother, little one."
She looked at him incredulously. "Why so? They have been naught but accommodating and fun since we arrived!"
"You know why."
A sardonic look replaced her expression. "You think that because you have a bad relationship with your brother that he is capable of doing bad things," she said in a hurry, looking over her shoulder to see if they were being watched.
He shook his head once in frustration. "They might be up to something. For all you know, they took you here to convince you to marry Thomas."
Ysabella went still and he watched the slow play of emotions on her face before she burst out laughing. She pulled away from his hold. "My lord, if anyone is marrying me, it shall be you." When he opened his mouth, she added, "Why do you always think that your family is working against you?"
Stunned by her question, Wakefield did not realize that Ysabella had turned and was now walking away from him, muttering something that sounded like, "Thomas? Marry me!" with a ridiculous laugh.
He placed his hands on both hips and looked around the familiar music room when Ysabella was long gone. He grew up in this place, yet coming here did not feel like home at all. It felt more like he had decided to walk back inside a rotting prison cell.
*****
Supper was quiet and filled with naught but formal conversation. Wakefield did not feel he was part of it all, nor was he inclined to join. It was merely the rest of the group's attempt to fill the silence with useless babbles about the season and, not to his great surprise, Thomas' brilliant ideas on crop plantation.
Wakefield was tired, having made no stops to get here, but Thomas and Ysabella invited him to join them for tea. He could have refused, yes, but to do so would mean leaving Ysabella in his brother's presence. Their mother would be there, but the woman looked as though she was about ready to retire for the night.
He would not wish to go home to Wickhurst with Ysabella wrapped in scandal. Levi Everard would have his throat if that was to ever happen, he thought with wry.
And so he had to suffer yet another hour of Ysabella and Thomas talking in whispers while he listened to his mother's talk about her fun journey with Ysabella to Bertram. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Ysabella laughed at whatever his brother whispered in her ear.
Was she deliberately making him jealous?
Are you jealous? A part of his mind asked. For a second he thought he heard Morris' voice ask that bloody question.
Finally, having had too much of tea and useless thoughts about two particular people in the room who were rude enough to exclude him and his mother from their conversation, Wakefield jumped to his feet and said, "I fear I must retire. I've had quite a long journey." He bent to plant a kiss on his mother's head. He straightened and turned to Thomas and Ysabella who paused to see him go.
Ha! Her attempts to making him jealous were being thrown out the window.
"I hope to have a private talk with you soon, Thomas," he said to his brother before he gave Ysabella a bow, saying, "Go to bed early, little one," and walked away.
"The servants prepared your old room!" Thomas called after him. He gave a short wave of his hand and walked out of the room.
He needed sleep. That was all he needed, really, he tried to tell himself.
*****
Ysabella accepted Thomas' invite the previous night to roam around the crop plantation the very next day. He had been very nice to her, far from the person she had first thought him to be based on Wakefield's letters to Lady Weis.
Although there was something in the man that she could not seem to figure out just yet, something that bordered to dark and mysterious, she found him quite easy to talk with. And although the way he'd look at her reminded her to be wary and careful, there were also moments when he could make her forget it all.
If she could look past the streak of arrogance in his speech, of his choice of words and somehow abhorrent attitude toward certain topics, Ysabella could see Wakefield in him as well. The Wakefield in the letters, not the one with the rakish reputation.
She had been noticing it now as they walked along the vast plantation of corn.
"You have quite a magnificent hole in Bertram, my lord," she said, looking up at the clear sky above them.
"Thomas," he corrected, offering his arm to her. He squinted at the sun as she looped her hand at the crook of his arm. "Yes, we are quite lucky to have one of the largest holes in Town. Although I heard Westershire has a bigger one."
"You mean Adrien Haverston's estate? Yes, I believe it is quite amazing as well."
"Ah, yes, I almost missed the fact that your family is friends with the Haverstons."
"Yes, they are dear friends." She looked up to let the heat of the sun touch her face. "I am yet to see Westershire, but I must admit I like Standbury the best."
He raised his brows. "Your brother's?"
She nodded. "Levi, yes. There is a small wooden area along the stream."
A tiny smile quirked Thomas' lips. "You like the woods then?"
Her smile widened. "Utterly so."
They walked in comfortable silence for a while until they neared the side entrance to the estate.
"Are you surprised your brother decided to come?" she asked, curious.
She felt Thomas' muscle clench under her hand. "Yes, I must admit."
"You and he are not close, I see." She tried to sound nonchalant but she knew he knew she knew more than what she may lead on. Their mother said so herself. "My brothers are close, see," she started. "And I hate to see you and Wakefield treating each other as though you are mere acquaintances."
"We do have our disagreements on many matters," he curtly replied. The tone of his voice told Ysabella that she better veer off the topic.
"As the big brother, you must make the first move," she uttered carefully, unable to stop herself. "Wakefield, I fear, is in need of a real family and it cannot be done if you continue to see his failures."
Thomas frowned but did not say anything.
"If you feel any love for him, you must be willing to swallow your pride and talk to him. He may be old enough, my lord, but he still is your little brother. He does project it in many ways. His reputation as a rake, having no care of important things speaks of a man who grew up restrained and feeling unwanted." When he remained silent, she bowed her head and murmured, "I fear I have said too much. I grew up in a family who speaks their mind and I am sorry if I pressed so hard. I shall not do so again."
To her surprise, Thomas chuckled. And it was not an evil one as she had feared. He sounded amused, as a matter of fact. "It seems you know my brother too well than you lead on, Ysabella."
She went cold but quickly recovered. Clearing her throat, she smiled. "Well, I do have a gift of reading people's mind and actions." When he stared at her in doubt, she added, "And Lady Hayward does talk a lot."
His head fell back to allow a round of laughter. She could not help but smile. She could not tell why she felt proud to have made the Lord of Bertram laugh. He was a grown, respectable man and she managed to make him laugh. It was surprisingly rewarding indeed.
As his laughter subsided into soft chuckles, Thomas stopped and made her turn to face him. He looked at her for a long time, his gaze deep it made her feel uneasy for a while. "I intend to court you, Ysabella."
His words were not immediately absorbed by her muddled mind but when they did her mouth fell open in shock.
Thomas Hayward, the Lord of Bertram, wished to court her?
A deep chuckle rolled out of his lips. For that brief moment he looked like Wakefield. "I do not demand for an answer, my lady," he said, letting go of her hand to step away. "I shall give you time to think."
He looked utterly confident as he gauged her reaction.
"I suggest you start thinking now," he said with a slight grin.
Ysabella, mouth still open, watched with wonder as Thomas left her at the side of the estate and disappeared into the side entrance.
Surely she had heard him wrong, yes?
But it couldn't be, yes?
Oh, Sweet Mr. Jones!
*****
Wakefield did not mean to hear his brother's unexpected announcement. In fact, he had intended to merely stay out of sight until the two could disappear so he could continue on with his morning walk.
Yet he did hear everything and was even standing in total shock as Ysabella was, hiding behind the corner wall of the side entrance of the estate.
He peered at the side of the wall and found her still standing there, mouth open and eyes wide. That, he must say, was no act.
With his blood nearly to a boiling point, Wakefield drew a breath and counted to ten to calm his nerves. He'd have a word with his bastard of a brother later. For now, he must do what he ought to do.
And so he stepped away from his hiding place and said, "Mayhap it is high time that you close your mouth, little one, before it dries."
Ysabella jumped in surprise, eyes wide with alarm. Realizing what he said, she blinked and stammered, saying, "D-did you hear that?"
Eyebrows cocked high, Wakefield asked, "What? Thomas announcing that he intends to court you?"
When he had thought that her eyes were beautiful under a mere lamplight outside his carriage, he had been utterly blind for her wide, emerald eyes under the actual sunlight were nearly blindingly magnificent. They appeared to be dancing as she stared at him with awe. "Then I heard correctly, yes? He—Thomas—intends to court me!"
Wakefield frowned. Her reaction did not seem right in his eyes. She looked as if she was happily surprised!
But then she started to frown and her eyes wavered. He stared as she worried her lips and turned away from the estate to retrace her steps back to the plantation.
"Where are you going?" he demanded, walking after her.
"I need to think," was her absent reply.
That was not the reaction he was expecting. In fact, he expected her to brag about it, to make use of his brother's announcement to elicit a reaction from him. But she was not doing that now.
"Think? Ysabella, do not tell me that you are considering—"
"Oh, Sweet Mr. Jones!" she groaned with frustration, looking over her shoulder to snap at him. "I truly need to think!"
"What is there to think about?" he demanded. They were walking aimlessly beside the corn plantation when she made a sudden turn to the side to walk through a field of grass. There were no trees, but a worker's cabin was situated nearby.
"Well, can I not think? Your brother will soon ask for an answer from me and I must offer one."
Bloody tarnation! Was she even serious?
"You do not even know the man enough to consider his offer!" he began to briskly walk so he was now facing her, walking backward for her steps did not falter. She seriously looked confused.
Confused! He did not expect that as well!
"Surely you must now see what I was trying to say last night. It had not even been two days since you arrived and my brother already made his advances!"
Ysabella glared at him. She rarely glared at him.
She circled around him and kept on walking.
"We are too far off the estate, Ysabella," he reminded, running after her once more to block her path. But she trudged on and he kept walking backward as he said, "You shall not find anything but another vast plantation. You will get lost should you—" and she suddenly disappeared from sight. Or mayhap it was he who disappeared from hers.
Everything happened so fast for Wakefield suddenly found himself on the ground.
"Wakefield!" Ysabella's cry of alarm followed his fall, followed by his cry of pain.
"Bloody hell!" he shouted at his foot. Ysabella's eyes followed his and her eyes widened in horror.
His foot fell into a small hole intended to trap small animals. And it was bloody painful as there were manmade spikes surrounding the mouth of the hole and his foot fell right through them.
Ysabella fell on her the ground to help him, brushing aside his shaking hands to pull his torn trouser up to see the damage.
"Careful," he gritted out in pain.
"Don't move," she snapped. "How did you even not see it!" she asked in disbelief studying his leg. "Well, there are but a few scratches—"
"Scratches?" he asked in mocked amusement. He looked down and saw blood trickling down one deep wound and he swallowed. "The way I see it, they are wounds and cuts!"
"Then be a bloody man and stop whining!" She came to her feet.
"Where are you going? You cannot leave me here," he said, looking at his trapped leg, tugging his trouser down to cover the sight of the wounds. Pulling his foot out would merely cause more damage.
"Oh, you are worse than my brothers," she said as she walked away.
"Ysabella!"
She kept walking and he realized she was going toward the worker's cabin. She tried the door, pulled it open and went inside.
Wakefield breathed through his teeth as he waited, telling himself that he was not in pain. He tried to focus his eyes on the green grass around him. Yes, he ought to focus on all the green.
When she came out, she was holding a small shovel. He watched in pain while she walked back toward him like a warrior with a shovel for a weapon. The sunlight was giving her quite a glow and Wakefield frowned when it suddenly disappeared.
He looked up to see that dark clouds had covered the sky.
Bloody tarnation!
"Faster," he ordered, swallowing the panic that started to seep inside him when she reached his side. "It is about to rain."
She pulled his trouser back up and he looked away. "Well, wouldn't it be nice? It would surely make my work far easier. I could wait until the rain passes and come back for you when the ground is soft!" She gave him a wicked smile and he glared at her.
With a silent chuckle, Ysabella started digging around the hole.
"Careful. The spikes might be long and—"
"I know how these things work, my lord. I've read a book about crop plantations and—" her words faltered and he frowned, wondering why she paused. "Ah, never mind," she uttered with a laugh. "Just know I know how these things work."
A drop of water splattered on his arm and Wakefield looked up. The rain was coming, making the surrounding plantation appear gloomy. Gone was the sunlight they basked in.
Finally, Ysabella managed to pull out a tiny wooden spike, followed by another. By this time, Wakefield was able to help and his leg was finally freed. His hands began to shake when he saw the red streak of blood on his fingertips.
Ysabella stood up and held out her hands to help him stand. He tried but failed.
She frowned down at him. "Do not tell me you lack the strength. They are merely cuts, my lord. They did not reach your bones!"
Wakefield swallowed. He knew he was looking shamefully pale. "Blood," he muttered, feeling quite dizzy.
"Of course there will be blood," Ysabella said, stomping her foot with impatience. "Come on now, Wakefield. Get up and let us go back to the estate so you can have the wounds cleaned."
"I said, blood, Ysabella," he said, his voice losing its strength. "I can't take the sight of blood."
"Whatever do you mean you..." he could hear no longer as her words started to sound distant. Bloody hell, he was losing consciousness.