A Lady's Guide to Courtship

IV. Caught

Dearest Lady Weis,

I wish that this letter finds you well.

I am quite at awe that you would spend hours under a hole to wait for rain. I have spent more time hunting in the woods and under many other holes all over the Town and never, not even once, had I thought of waiting for rain.

Ever since I was young, my mother would prohibit me from coming out of the estate when news of rainfall from aboveground would come. I believe it has become a habit that I do not venture out when the rainfall bell rings.

What does it feel like, rain?

Yours,

William

*****

Ysabella sauntered toward Wakefield who was facing away from her. She was entirely aware of the amused glances following her. They were waiting for what scene she'd do next to entertain them. Most gave her encouraging smiles.

They thought she was on a mission to frustrate an elusive rake and that amused them.

For a moment Ysabella wondered why society never took her seriously, why they still thought that this chasing game was anything but serious on her part. But then, it was quite helping her cause. They did not judge her as a desperate woman out to seduce a lord, but merely a naïve girl having fun. Why would she be serious, really? Her family was rich and she had suitors waiting for her to be ready to choose once she was over her childish games.

Mayhap their picture of her was helping after all, she thought as she straightened her back and squared her shoulders, her feet closing the distance between her and her target.

His back was still turned to her, not aware that he was about to be trapped.

"Hello, Lord Wakefield," she uttered in the most womanly voice she could muster.

She saw his shoulders stiffen before he slowly turned around to face her.

Her breath was nearly snatched out of her at the sight of him. His golden hair was naturally ruffled, as though he did try to tame them but greatly failed, his deep blue eyes, though looking faintly discomfited, were as lovely as she remembered.

William Hayward was not merely gorgeous with those thick brows and finely shaped nose, nor was he magnificent with those square jaws and firm lips.

His beauty was nearly sinful, forbidden.

Her heart hammered against her chest, not because at the sight of him, but because she was standing before him. Finally. After many months.

She found it hard to breathe not because he was here, but because she knew the man, mayhap even more so inside than outside. She knew his favourite colour, she knew of his fears and insecurities, of his naivety on simply things, of his innocence on trivial matters.

She knew him and she wished he knew it.

His firm lips formed a forced, tight smile. "Lady Ysabella," he greeted more formally than she would have hoped.

At the corner of one eye she saw Lady Hayward looking at them from her circle of friends.

Focusing her eyes on the man before her, she sweetly smiled. "Have you received the flowers I personally delivered to your door, my lord?"

His jaw clenched, mayhap because someone chuckled behind them at her open question.

His tight smile did not waver. "My butler was given instruction to do whatever he wishes with the flowers, little one."