Our Secret At Briarwood

5 - Yet Another Scheme

"You are just in time, my lord!" Ysabella rose from a stone bench, handing a long, ink-stained parchment into Caspian's hands in excitement.

Caspian's brow furrowed as he scanned the frantic handwriting. "My Lady... what is this supposed to be?" He asked with a seemingly amused face. 

"The fruits of my labor!" she declared. "Those are the most eligible maidens of Springbrook, complete with their dowries, their temperaments, and whether or not they can play the harp without making one's ears bleed." She replied in pure confidence of her so-called masterpiece. 

Caspian chuckled, the sound deep and resonant in the quiet garden. "I admire your dedication to escaping me, Miss Ysabella Rosilier. But I already know these ladies." He said with a smirk on his face. Though, he was quite impressed with how she was able to curate such information in just a few days. 

 Ysabella, on the other hand, tilted her head, looking very much like a confused dog. "I beg your pardon?" 

"I did not spend a week enduring mind-numbing tea parties to gather that intelligence for you to simply brush it aside!" she added, her tone sharp and snarky. 

"I know who they are, yes," Caspian clarified, stepping closer and closer. "But I do not know how to approach them. I am... perhaps too direct. I wish to know them as companions, not just as names on a list."  He explained, leaning towards Ysabella causing her face to turn red. 

Ysabella quickly took a step back and exhaled a long, frustrated sigh. Why must he be so impossibly complicated?

But then again, he was not lying when he said he is perhaps too direct of a man. For he was very straightforward with her even upon their first meeting. 

"My Lord, most men of your standing would simply pick a pretty face and a large dowry. Why must you make this such an arduous task?" She asked, sounding annoyed which was quite evident in her face. An expression she was not even trying to hide. 

The wind whistled through the overgrown bushes and ivy as silence stretched between them. 

"Let us just say," Caspian said, his voice losing its teasing edge, "that I have the rare privilege to choose. I wish to marry for love, not out of a cold sense of obligation." 

"I see."  Ysabella forced a smile. Silence filled the air once again for a moment. And a dull ache bloomed in her chest. 

"You are lucky, My Lord. Truly you are." 

For a man like Caspian, choice was a right. For Ysabella, the Marriage Mart was a countdown. No matter how many dances she skipped, eventually, her mother would choose a man, possibly even someone twice her age with a title and a cold heart. And that would be the inevitable no matter how she tries to stall it. 

Caspian watched her, his keen eyes softening. He seemed to sense the shift in the air. And even without uttering a single word, he very much understands what is running on Ysabella's mind.

"Do you truly prefer not to marry at all, Miss Rosilier?" He asked, followed by a short pause. 

"It is not the marriage I fear, my lord," she whispered, her gaze drifting to a single wild rose fighting for life amidst the ruins. "It is the person I might become. I wish to be loved for who I am... And to find someone who would never ask me to stop being myself."

She turned away, her voice barely audible. "But we both know that is a fantasy. A girl like me does not get to choose." 

Caspian, feeling the heaviness of her heart had all the urge to comfort her. He has been restraining himself to come closer. 

And as he was about to take a step forward, Ysabella shook off the melancholy, straightening her shoulders. 

"But that is no concern of yours, my lord. If you want to find your love, you must learn to be subtle. You cannot go about as the 'Son of a Duke' if you wish to find someone who could love you for who you are." 

"Then what do you propose?" He asked, ready to hear yet another one of Ysabella's absurd yet amusing schemes. 

Ysabella turned back to him, a mischievous spark returning to her eyes. "You shall pretend to be the architect who will work on my aunt's estate. You must inform my mother that you are a hired hand sent to survey the ruins. And as far as the world is concerned, you are Sir Vane, the architect. Merely a man of trade. It will give us the freedom to move without gossip. And give you the chance to see these ladies as they truly are." 

 "You never cease to amuse me with your wild ideas, Miss Rosilier." Caspian replied as he reached out to strike yet another deal with the young lady. "Agreed."