A Lady's Guide to Courtship

XXVI. Ey, Guv!

Dearest Lady Weis,

My lover slapped me when I started talking about you while we were in her bedchambers.

I had to leave her estate in the middle of the night, dressed in naught but my breeches.

It is quite liberating that I can share such stories with you knowing you'd fully understand. Although I fear my confessions would soon be thrown back at me in some way. I am not saying by you, but by some other means.

Yours,

William

*****

It was not difficult to come up with a decision regarding Thomas' offer, Ysabella was thinking as she looked outside the carriage window.

Thomas managed to make her confuse. Added to that was the other side of Wakefield she saw in Bertram. Furthermore were her reactions to him whenever they were alone.

Wakefield was not truly the man she knew while being Ysabella Everard in Wickhurst or as Lady Weis in the letters.

He was someone else far more as Wakefield with simply Ysabella Everard in a garden, a cabin, a dark parlour, or even in a bloody shooting lesson.

It took no longer than a night of restlessness for her to realize what her reactions to him in Bertram meant.

She never felt anything other than nice when Thomas kissed her. It made her think a lot, but it was never the same as Wakefield's kiss.

With Wakefield, the very memory of that kiss they shared could make her mind drift to many places, opening many dreams and illusions in her mind. Even the one he gave her when they danced in the parlour could keep her awake all night should she allow her mind to think of it.

So, yes, Ysabella now had a name to all her reactions to Wakefield.

The excitement, the scary feeling and her inscrutable emotions were all but one: desire.

And she figured it was not bad to feel it. As a matter of fact, this desire made her feel even more woman.

"You seem quite deep in thought," Wakefield noted dryly, drawing Ysabella back to the present. "Having regrets?" he added, his eyes staring at her with meaning.

"Ah, so you know I refused Thomas," she absently said, looking more closely at the scene they passed by. "Where are we?"

He peered through the window to see. "We are entering Blucksley, I believe."

"And we have to stay at Blucksley for the night, yes?" she asked, trying to feel her legs but couldn't, a sign that they had to find a tavern soon.

"Yes."

"Then could I suggest the tavern?" she asked, her mind already racing to one specific place.

Wakefield's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "You know Blucksley."

She shrugged. "We do make a stop here whenever we visit Standbury. Trust me, my lord, I know the perfect place to stay."

"Why do I have a feeling that I am not going to like this place?"

She rolled her eyes. "We shall have separate rooms, believe me. I shall not compromise you."

For the first time in many days, she witnessed Wakefield laugh. "Bloody tarnation. Compromise me?"

She wryly glared at him. "Do not, for one second, think that I cannot do so."

Alarm flickered in his eyes, followed by a glint of desire, before he covered them with a laugh, saying, "Very well. You shall choose where we make our stop." He knocked on the roof of the carriage and it slowed down.