Prada and Prejudice Page 10

  Chapter 19

  "Okay, so I take my foot," I say, pointing to the toe of my Prada heel, "and stick it in that... thing?"

  This whole trip is turning into a nightmare. First I had to change into a riding habit, as if I have any idea what that is. And now I'm supposed to ride sidesaddle. Seriously. Isn't riding with one foot on each side of the horse hard enough already? I can't even drive a car yet!

  Alex nods. "The stirrup." He has one hand on the horse's reins and the other holding the stirrup out for me. Two grooms are hovering in the background, looking a little put out. I think they had planned to help me up. Alex is standing so close I can smell him, this masculine musky scent that makes me want to rest my head on his chest and breathe in.

  Which is absurd, and I need to stop thinking about it.

  Wretched human being. Remember that.

  I jam my foot in the stirrup and have to sort of hip-hop around a few times to keep from falling down, and then my foot slips out and I'm just standing there again. The horse swings its head around and looks at me as if to say you're still standing there?

  Alex doesn't say anything, just stands stock-still, holding the horse and waiting for me to get my act together. He's probably groaning inwardly at my incompetence.

  I try again. This time manage to get my foot into the stirrup and my hands toward the seat of the saddle, and, after taking a few hops, stand up and put my weight into the stirrup.

  Alex has to grab my waist and boost me up in order to get me all the way to the seat, and then I almost fall off the other side as I figure out how to hook my knee onto the saddle. It takes almost five minutes for me to get situated as he continues to stand there, holding the reins so the horse won't move until I'm ready. "Thanks," I say.

  I can feel the spot where his fingers touched my hips like they're still there, holding me. Not cool.

  "Certainly," he says as he releases the reins. "Are you ready?"

  I nod and the reins are suddenly out of his grasp and I tighten them so hard the horse starts to back up. "Oh, uh... What do I do?!" I panic because the horse is, well, moving. In the wrong direction.

  Alex comes back over to me. "Release your hold. I promise you this horse will not run away with you. Keep some slack in the reins. Too tight and she'll think you want her to back up. She's only trying to please you." His voice is calm and cool.

  I nod and relax my hand just a bit, until the reins have a bit of a droop in them. I resist the urge to immediately snatch them back up. "Trust me," he says, looking straight at me.

  And as I stare back at him, I just nod dumbly, suddenly believing I trust him. Which is the wrong thing to feel. I'm willing to bet Mystery Mistress trusted him too, and look how well that turned out!

  I mean, come on. This is a guy who is screwing over his own cousin, who insulted me at the dance and abandoned his own kid. I can not trust him.

  He walks back over to his gray stallion and swings up easily, even though it's probably a foot taller than the one I'm on. He looks perfect in his boots and jacket, like something out of a catalog. Even though I've never seen clothes like that in a catalog. God, what am I thinking?

  We pick up a walk. I'm gripping onto the little copper horse's reins like my life depends on it. Alex looks very much at ease, even as the horse dances excitedly underneath him, its legs flexing and skipping around at twice the speed they need to. Just watching it makes me nervous.

  Is he going to apologize, or what? He knows I was bothered by what he said at the dance. He has to say something, right? If he thinks he can just forget about it, he's wrong.

  "I do hope Emily is well," he says, as we pass the barns and head up a grassy knoll.

  "Oh, I'm sure she's fine," I say dryly. "In fact, I'm certain she'll feel totally healthy by the time we return."

  Healthy enough to bombard me and ask how this whole ride went.

  The weather is beautiful today: blue skies and a warm breeze. In fact, given the three layers I must be wearing, it's a tad on the warm side. There seem to be birds everywhere, from the tree limbs and fence rails around us to the sky above us, chirping and squawking.

  Everything smells so fresh. And clean, and just. .. new.

  "Do you own all this?" We've crested the small hill and fields and fields stretch out before me, trees dotting the landscape, with a forest up ahead. The place is bigger than my entire neighborhood back home. Bigger than the school and the stadium and the baseball fields.

  "Yes. Twelve thousand acres."

  "You mean twelve hundred."

  He laughs. It's short and quiet, but it's a laugh, and I can't believe I actually heard it. "No. Twelve thousand."

  I swallow. Twelve thousand acres. A square mile is six hundred forty. Yes, just knowing that makes me a nerd. So his property is — I do the math in my head — over eighteen and three-quarters square miles. No wonder we're twelve miles from town. No wonder there were no other rooftops for so long. No wonder we had to go so far to get to the Pommeroy estate.

  Because Alex owns half the land between here and there.

  "I see." I try to suppress my awe. "And what do you... do with all that? Farm?"

  He shakes his head. "No, I manage the tenant farmers. They live on the other side of the trees. I use the land between for fox hunting."

  Ew. Fox hunting. Yet another of his delightful qualities. "That's cruel."

  He looks over at me, one eyebrow lifted. "How so?"

  "We learned about it in... a book." Way to go, I actually manage to stop myself from saying history class. "You block off all the fox dens so that the foxes can't get back home.

  And then you release dogs and let them tear the foxes to bits when they find one."

  He nods, his lips pursed together. I try not to stare at them.

  "And exactly how does that prove your skill? All you do is ride around at breakneck speed to keep up with the dogs. You don't actually hunt the fox using your own skill — it's the dogs'. Why not just race around on your horse instead of killing some poor animal?"

  "Women never understand the appeal of the hunt."

  I snort. "There you go again, acting like we're a lesser species."

  "It is men who have conquered this world," he states matter-of-factly.

  "You're hopeless," I say, more disgusted than ever.

  We ride into the woods, and the shade feels much cooler. I hope it keeps my face from flushing. I'm sweating underneath all these layers. We follow a wide path winding between dozens of oak trees, their limbs twisting toward the sky.

  "The air always seems fresher in the woods," he says in an obvious attempt to avoid arguing.

  "It is. Fresher, I mean. Plants breathe in carbon dioxide and release oxygen."

  Alex twists around to stare straight at me. "You're simply full of scientific knowledge, aren't you?"

  And he says it in the most annoying, condescending manner. I want to strangle him.

  "God, you really hate that I know things you don't."

  He scowls and turns forward again. "Of course not."

  "Whatever. You're not used to being one-upped by a girl. Admit it."

  "I'll do no such thing."

  "Okay then, how about we talk science? Bet you didn't know that you blink more than four million times per year."

  His expression remains unchanged, though I'm almost positive he's trying not to blink.

  "And did you know it takes fourteen inches of snow to equal one inch of rain?"

  His eyes are narrowed, but he hasn't spoken yet.

  "Or how about that you lose most of your body heat through your head?"

  "You've proven your point," he says.

  "And yet I bet you haven't changed your mind about me," I say. "You're far too stubborn for that."

  The conversation dies away when he moves in front of me on the trail, and we continue our ride in silence. I have a good view of him from here, and I can watch him without him knowing. And I like the way he looks relaxed. He's more at ease on a thou
sand-pound horse than at the dinner table. Oh sure, his shoulders are still squared, and his back is still straight, but he's sort of swaying with the horse's bouncy peppy gait, his hands giving and taking on the reins like they're rubber bands.

  "Easy, Ghost," Alex says as we descend a small hill toward a creek. I can see his horse is nervous because its hindquarters swing sideways until the horse is actually walking that way, crossing its legs over one another as Alex pushes it toward the shallow water. "Give me a bit of room, in case Ghost gets any ideas."

  I nod and pull lightly on the reins, trying not to overdo it like when I'd gotten on. The little mare eases to a stop and I try to relax my grip. I take the opportunity to rearrange the skirts of my gown, trying to get them to cover my feet.

  Ghost is dancing around in the mud now, not wanting anything to do with the creek in front of us. His hooves are picking up, two at a time, making funny sucking noises in the slop. Alex is leaning the slightest bit forward, his hands resting on the horse's neck, like he's not at all worried about hanging on if the horse takes off. How can he look so comfortable?

  The thing looks like it's ready to bolt.

  The horse takes a couple funny bouncy steps and then lifts both front hooves and takes a flying leap over the water. Alex never leaves the saddle. He never looks fazed.

  In fact, when he lands on the other side, he laughs — a real, no-mistaking-it laugh — and the sound is music to my ears. I wish he'd do it a thousand more times. Until this moment, I thought he didn't even have a real laugh.

  Oh God, I should not be charmed by a simple laugh.

  Jerk. Jerk. Jerk. I can't forget that.

  He pats the horse's neck. "That's not quite what I had in mind." And then he turns around and tries again. The horse jumps again and ends up splashing in the creek. Alex is beaming. He turns around and crosses three more times, and by the end, the horse is plodding through like he's been doing it all day.

  "We can go now."

  I don't release the reins. "This horse isn't going to do that, is she?"

  He shakes his head, and then he smiles at me. Directly at me. All the dislike I'd felt melts away in an instant, and I want to stand here all day in the glow of his smile. His lips are curled, and his eyes are sparkling in a way I couldn't have imagined. And I suddenly want to be close to him. Really, really close to him.

  You are not a lady. I remember his words and bite back the urge to smile. Is it so easy to forget your whispered promises?

  There are so many reasons I should stay far, far away from him. There's no way I'm going to forget about all that just because he smiles at me. Even if it is a totally devastating smile.

  "No. Molly is an old hack of mine. She has been everywhere. She will cross without even looking at the water first."

  I nod and click my tongue, too afraid to actually nudge the horse's sides in case she gets any funny ideas. But true to Alex's word, the horse plods down the bank, crosses the creek with a few splashy steps, and then I'm next to Alex again.

  "Thank you for your patience," he says. "Ghost is still quite green. Though I am certain you noticed."

  I just nod because I can't figure out why he's acting so happy. So nice. So... not like him. Ten minutes ago he was acting like there was no way I was smarter than him. How can he be this Alex and the other one too?

  I try to make small talk. "So, what does it mean to be a duke, really?"

  He straightens even more in his saddle, proving his shoulders apparently can go further back. All I have to do is mention the fact that he's a duke, and suddenly he's a peacock again. "The Dukedom of Harksbury was created by the king in return for years of service and loyalty from my great-great-great-grandfather. As the firstborn son, I inherited the title, the land, and the wealth. Each year I will serve our great country in the House of Lords, helping to create new laws. And then in the summer I return to Harksbury and see to the household matters. It is my duty to see that all here prosper."

  All here prosper? What about all there? As in far, far away, with a baby? How can he act like he's this great, magnanimous guy and ignore those letters?

  One thing at a time. I need to bring up Emily's engagement somehow. There's got to be a good opening if I keep him talking.

  "So... all these other lords. Are you guys all equal or is there some kind of ranking system?" I hope this is all normal stuff to ask. Even though they don't have peers in America, someone in 1815 would probably still know what they were. But he doesn't know that, right?

  "A duke is the highest member of the peerage. Under the royal family, of course. The older the title, the more prestigious. Under a duke is a marquess, followed by earl, viscount, and baron."

  Okay, I have to stop stalling. I have to talk to him about Emily and Trent. "So, you have a lot of power then, right?"

  That's it. I'll stroke his gigantic ego first and then segue into a plea for help.

  He nods. "Yes, power comes with being a member of the peerage."

  "Don't you ever want to use that power to help people?"

  "Certainly."

  Here goes nothing.

  "The thing is, I met this guy named Trent Rallsmouth last night. He and Emily... like each other. A lot. And she says he's wealthy."

  "And?"

  "And so I think they should get married instead of her and Lord Denworth."

  "I thought we'd agreed you would stop this and mind your place."

  "I'll stop when Emily gets to marry the guy she wants to marry."

  "Emily will marry Denworth because that is what she was told to do. She can not choose otherwise because of a passing fancy for another man."

  "But—"

  "No."

  Okay, I can forget about Alex helping us. Conversation over.

  I can't believe I thought he'd help. At all. He definitely does not care about Emily, or anyone else for that matter.

  He cares about himself. And that's it.

  But I'm not giving up. I promised Emily. There has to be something I can do. I'm from the twenty-first century. Land of equal opportunity and all that crap. I know things these people don't even know to dream of. I have to come up with something.

  But what can I do? All I know is Emily's the only reason I'm not starving to death somewhere in the woods. If she hadn't been at the door that day, I would have been turned away.

  And now, thanks to my lies, she believes I'm going to help her. If I want to channel my inner-Rebecca, if I want to be confident and casual and popular, I have to live up to her expectations. I have to fix this. Besides, if it's truly why I ended up here, then helping Emily must lead me to the way home.

  If Alex won't help me, I'll figure it out myself.

  I have to. If I don't, I might be stuck here.

  Forever.

  Chapter 20

  The next morning, I'm sitting in the sunny little breakfast room, willing Victoria to stop shoveling eggs in her mouth so I can talk to Emily.

  Emily and I need to come up with a plan as soon as possible. I have no idea when her wedding is... but didn't they love shotgun weddings or something back in the day?

  Plus, the real Rebecca's arrival is creeping closer. Less than three weeks, now. Every day gets me closer to discovery.

  Heck, what if the real Rebecca arrives early? She could randomly show up today for all I know. What if I'm sitting with them all over some random meal and Rebecca strolls in?

  What do they do to people who scam their way into the household? I definitely don't want to find out. Alex doesn't strike me as the forgiving type.

  "Did the two of you enjoy the dance at the Pommeroy estate?"

  Great. So Victoria is done eating but she's not leaving.

  Instead she's sitting up in her chair with posture fit for a queen, staring at the two of us like bugs under a microscope. I'm not sure what it is about her that bothers me so much. She's more intimidating than Angela and Trisha Marks combined.

  "Yes, quite," Emily says.

  "Lady Tonow
ay tells me you danced with His Grace," she says. She's staring straight at me with those piercing green eyes, like laser beams that will cut me to ribbons if I answer the wrong way.

  I can't seem to ignore the sinking feeling low in my stomach. This can't be good. Not with a glare like that.

  "Yes," I say, after a moment's hesitation.

  "That was... polite of him."

  Polite of him. Like he'd done it out of duty. Which, honestly, he said as much himself. I clench my jaw, hard.

  I know he did it out of duty, since I'm his guest. But she doesn't know that — she doesn't know what he said before we danced. She's just trying to be condescending.

  And as much as I hate it, I know what she's saying is true. Alex hates me as much as I hate him, so it makes sense. He was doing his gentlemanly duty.

  But it still makes me want to snap at her.

  I will not blurt out something stupid.

  "Yes. He's quite... polite, isn't he? He must be, since he doesn't like dancing. I was the only girl he danced with." I smile right at her, stick a piece of meat in my mouth, and chew it with gusto.

  Emily's fork stops moving, she looks up at me, and I see her swallow slowly. She wills me with her eyes to stop talking. "Shall we go for a turn about the garden, Rebecca?"

  There it is again. Rebecca. I try to smile at her, but my lips barely move.

  Emily and I are away from the table so quickly I'm not sure Victoria has even thought of a reply to my statement, and I enjoy the lost look on her face as we dash out of the room.

  "I should think Victoria will be stewing over this for hours." Emily doesn't sound angry or even surprised, but rather amused. There's a devilish smirk I hardly recognize playing at the edges of her lips. "You shall have to teach me how to do that."

  "Do what?"

  We're out the door now and into the sun, and she links her arm with mine. Our skirts brush now and then as we walk along a cobbled path. "Send her off-kilter when she's trying so hard to have the upper hand."

  "It's not so much a talent as an impulse. I'm afraid I have no restraint. You, on the other hand, manage to take things in stride and be graceful about it."