Prada and Prejudice Read online

  "Oh." I lean back again and set my hands in my lap.

  "Why do you believe Emily should not marry Denworth?" Victoria asks. She's studying her fork in such a way that I think she might be talking to it and not me.

  "Excuse me?" She doesn't know, does she? Oh God, Alex is going to be so ticked off if she found out and gets wound up about it. Here I thought she'd somehow missed all the gossip. She seems to be hanging out in bed a lot, like she's not feeling well. But if the servants came to her, or if they were in the hall and were talking too loudly...

  "I overheard you and Emily. You believe she and Denworth don't belong together. Why, pray tell, is that?"

  Oh. So she's still in the dark.

  Victoria only glances upward for a moment, as if she's hoping I won't realize it's her asking the questions. Not like there's anyone else in the room. Is it really that hard for her to be nice to me?

  Now I'm the one studying my fork. Do I make up some fabulous reason, some compelling argument that Victoria would understand, or do I just tell her the truth? A woman like her doesn't believe in love. How could she? She was totally into the idea of Emily marrying Denworth. Said it was her duty and left it at that.

  "She deserves better."

  Victoria studies me for a moment. Her face is turned upward so she has to look down her nose at me.

  "Better than a baron? She had as much a chance at love with Lord Denworth as she does with any one else. Perhaps more."

  What's weird is I think she believes that. She states it so simply, as if it's fact. "How can that be true? Denworth is so old."

  She sets the fork down beside her plate and stares straight at me. For once in her life, her eyes aren't piercing and scary. They've softened a bit around the edges. I get a glimpse of what Victoria may have looked like twenty years ago. And I think she must have been beautiful. "The duke was nearly five and fifty when we married. I was but twenty."

  "And did you love him?"

  The silence in the room tells me what I need to know. Obviously not. So why is she trying to convince me otherwise? I pick at a piece of fat on the roast and wait to see if she'll admit it.

  "Not at first. Not until the last three or four years."

  I look up at her, surprised. Three or four years? That means...

  That's why the old duke was hoping the baby would go away. He was reconciling with Victoria. He was probably on thin ice and hoping she'd never find out about the kid.

  But why couldn't he have helped her financially? They needed that.

  Victoria's hands are still and she's staring back at me. Is she actually chewing on the edge of her bottom lip? Surely she's not. Victoria is poised and perfect at all times. "I did love him. But I tried not to. For years, I tried not to. And now I think of those wasted years and I wish I could have them back."

  All I can do is stare. I'd been so sure she was grumpy for no reason at all. That she just thought she was better than everyone else. But in reality she's lived the most twisted and tragic love story I've ever heard. Way worse than Shakespeare.

  So she's hiding behind all her perfect etiquette and all her rules.

  "There are few who fall in love, Rebecca. Even fewer who stay in love. Emily has no better idea what she wants than I did. She will marry Lord Denworth, just as I married the duke. It is to be expected."

  Oh, but it's not. She has no idea what is going on just a few miles away. No idea at all. She got lucky with the old duke. She fell for him. But I refuse to believe that some fifty-one-year-old guy has as much in common with Emily as someone her own age. Someone who might already be in love with her.

  "Don't you think it's Emily's choice to make?"

  Victoria's voice softens a little. "It will never be her choice." And for approximately one second as she looks at me, I think Victoria is trying to tell me that she agrees. That it should be Emily's choice, even if it isn't.

  But then she ruins it. "Your elbow is on the table again." I roll my eyes but I pull my elbow off the table and sit back in my chair. I guess some things never change.

  Chapter 25

  Long after dinner is over, Alex and Emily have still not returned. He left this morning to get her. What could they possibly he doing? Emily was only supposed to be gone one night... and we're creeping ever closer to two.

  I prowl the halls of Harkshury like a caged animal. I see the library and the study and the guest chambers and the court. I stumble into the kitchens and then three more dining halls.

  I don't know what they're doing, what's taking so long, what's going on. What if something crazy has happened? What if they're like, arrested, or dead, or robbed or something? This is 1815. All sorts of crazy things could be happening.

  I wonder if they went straight to her father. All three of them. God, what if he's insanely mad and wants revenge for her escapades? Alex seemed to think she was pretty much screwed.

  What if I ruined her life?

  What are they doing? I can't take another night of tossing and turning. I want all this to be over. I want to be home. In the twenty-first century, where stuff like this doesn't happen.

  The twenty-first century. I can't believe I haven't been thinking about it more. Those first couple days, I was consumed by it. But lately I've been so busy with Emily's engagement and Alex's insults and Victoria's dinner etiquette... I guess I've been kind of swept up in all of it.

  I have to figure out what I'm going to do. I can't just live here like it's my real life. Rebecca will be arriving in just a couple weeks.

  And when she arrives, my cover will be blown and everyone will know I'm a fraud. So I have to come up with some kind of backup plan or strategy or something. But how am I really supposed to find my way back?

  Maybe that makes no sense, but really, do I have any other options? If I can just focus my energies on something positive, maybe the rest will resolve itself.

  For now, I'm still stuck.

  At the moment, I'm somewhere in the east wing, strolling along and looking at all the paintings, a candle in one hand as the rest of the house darkens. It's mostly sceneries and landscapes hanging in this hall. Pretty rolling hills, big grassy meadows, majestic hilltops. It's not really enough to distract me, but it's interesting nonetheless.

  I'm staring at a stormy sea raging against some rocky cliffs when I hear her voice.

  Emily. She's back.

  I pick up my skirts and run down the long hall, my slippers echoing loudly on the hardwood floors.

  I skid around a corner just in time to see her take the first step up toward her room.

  She hears me and when she turns, her eyes light up. I let out a big sigh of relief. There aren't tears streaming down her face or anything. That has to be good, right?

  "Where's Alex?"

  "He has gone to speak with my father." Emily purses her lips, and worry creases her brow.

  I stop a few feet short, suddenly feeling like a wall has gone up between us. "Did you forget he had to give you permission? I had no idea. It doesn't work that way... in America."

  She takes in a slow, calming breath. "I suppose in the excitement, I seem to have forgotten."

  "Oh." I shrug because I can't think of anything else to do. "Did he say when he would be back?"

  She nods. "In two days. It is a full day's ride to my father's estate. He will have to stop at an inn for the evening."

  Wow. He's riding a full day each direction and staying at a hotel because of my interference. He cannot be happy.

  "Well... how'd the, um, evening go? Did you enjoy yourself, at least?"

  "Yes. We had a lovely meal by candlelight. He brought us a delightful picnic for dinner."

  "Oh, great!" I say, with false enthusiasm.

  For the first time, the conversation feels forced and uncomfortable, like we're two strangers. Emily's never looked this worried before. There's tension in her shoulders and face, and she's not bubbling over with excitement about spending an evening with Trent.

  God, I really scr
ewed this up. If Alex doesn't succeed...

  Eventually, Emily is going to find out she trusted a complete stranger with her life. And I betrayed her.

  I hate this.

  "Okay, well, um, I'm going to go to bed. I suppose we'll learn more tomorrow," I say, filled with the desire to get out of her presence before I spill everything.

  She nods and heads up the stairs. I follow her. We split up at the landing, each of us climbing the steps to our own wing.

  I know one thing: I am getting no sleep tonight.

  The next two days crawl slowly by. All I do is think of everything that could be going wrong, everything that could be going right, and everything in between.

  And in between all that, I think of my life.

  What if I'm actually missing in the twenty-first century? What if there are entire search parties, and my mom is a total basket case, and everyone thinks I got kidnapped? It was so hard to talk her into the class trip. She'll think it's her fault.

  God, she would probably have to call and talk to my dad, too. And she hates doing that.

  And if I pop back up and I've been missing for a month, what am I supposed to tell them? Oh, sorry, I took a vacation in1815. I got a little sidetracked with this whole arranged marriage problem. You know how that works. And I went to a few balls, and I wore corsets and stuff. Actually, the whole thing was sort of fun. So don't you worry about me! Really!

  Eliza comes into my room when I'm already at the stool brushing my hair. It's got to be the first time I've beaten her to the task of waking me up and gotten out of bed on my own. I think she enjoys that part of her day the most, the way she rips off the blankets and throws open the drapes.

  '"Is Grace's asked fer ye."

  I freeze, the brush midstroke. "What?"

  '"E wishes te see ye," she says, peeling my hand from the brush and resuming the untangling of my hair.

  "He's back?"

  She nods.

  "Oh." I swallow. So now it's the moment of truth. Did he convince her father to consent, or is Emily's life officially ruined? Is he going to tell me that I screwed everything up and he was right?

  I'm getting used to the whole process of dressing and I'm done too quickly for my liking. My walk to Alex's study is like the green mile. I wonder what he's going to say. This isn't going to be fun.

  I step inside his study, but no one announces me, and he doesn't notice. So I just stare.

  He's writing something. With a quill and ink. The well is sitting next to his right hand. He's so intent on whatever he's writing he keeps at it for thirty seconds before he sees me.

  Long enough for me to see the way he narrows his eyes when he's concentrating and the way he purses his lips.

  Long enough for me to wonder what it would he like to kiss him.

  Oh God, where did that come from? I hate him. Hate him. There's no way I could possibly want to kiss him.

  He looks up at that instant, and I do my best to just smile right at him and not give away my thoughts.

  "Please sit," he says, rising. I nod and sit down in the same fancy chair as before. The door stays open.

  I sit as erect as possible, my hands in my lap, my ankles crossed beneath me. Victoria must be rubbing off on me.

  Alex comes around to the front of his desk and rests on it, crossing one ankle over the other as he leans back.

  "What you did was overstepping your bounds."

  I clench my teeth, hard, to stop from snapping back. I have to see where he's going with this before I get angry.

  "You went behind my back and orchestrated one of the most ill-planned, riskiest schemes I've ever seen. I am shocked."

  "But—"

  He puts his hand up to silence me. "I won't tell you what I had to do to convince her father to consent to the new arrangement. You are lucky Mr. Rallsmouth will have the means necessary to support Miss Emily, as she will not be receiving a thing from her father from here on out."

  All I hear is convince her father. "So it worked?" A grin spreads across my features and I jump to my feet. "She's going to marry Mr. Rallsmouth?"

  Alex pushes off the desk behind him and stands in front of me. "Have you not heard a word I said? You made grievous errors of judgment. You—"

  "But I was right! And thanks to me, she's going to marry the love of her life!"

  He's standing right in front of me, inches away. "You were not right! You interfered and it was not your place!"

  I clench my fists as my anger flares to match his. "You think nothing is my place because I'm some lowly, untitled girl! But someone had to do it, and you didn't care to!"

  "You should not have gotten involved!" he growls.

  "You should not have forced me to!" I say, jabbing my finger into his chest. "You should have been there for her when she needed you!"

  In an instant, he closes the gap between us. His lips hit mine so fast I can't even close my eyes. His hands find a place on either side of my face and pull me close, and for two-point-five seconds, I'm lost somewhere between closing my eyes and standing there, frozen.

  Somehow the eyes win out and I shut them, and my knees start to buckle as I press my lips into to his. I stop breathing and grip his sleeves with both hands to keep from falling straight over. His lips are warm and soft and...

  And then I realize what's going on. Who I'm kissing. You're not a lady, he'd said.

  It stings as much now as it did the moment he said it. He thinks I'm unworthy.

  What am I doing? I reel back and knock into the wall with a loud crash that makes him jerk his eyes open.

  "I, uh... " I stutter, then spin around so fast my skirts twist around my legs and I have to wait for them to swing around again before dashing out of the room.

  Chapter 26

  What the heck was Alex doing kissing me? Better yet, what was I doing enjoying it?

  He's... arrogant and judgmental and elitist. He's convinced only a member of the aristocracy is worth his time. Or anyone else's, for that matter.

  Gah! I'm so stupid! How could we have gone from screaming at each other to kissing?

  My stomach twists in knots as I head straight to Emily's chamber. She's sitting in the large window seat overlooking the courtyard when I burst through the door. In less than three seconds, I'm plunking down across from her. "You're getting married," I say, trying to sound cheerful and normal even though everything is spinning around in my gut so fast I feel like I may actually puke.

  She looks up and just stares, expressionless.

  "It worked. Alex convinced your father."

  She squeals and hugs me. She's beaming from ear-to-ear.

  "This is wonderful!" She jumps up and does the most adorable dance, spinning around and around until her skirts look like a pinwheel. When she collapses hack on the window seat, I can tell she's dizzy. "How can I ever repay you for what you've done for me?"

  "Huh?" I missed whatever she just said. I'm too busy holding my fingers to my lips to calm the tingles.

  My first kiss. That was my first kiss. And he's a duke. I just kissed a duke. And I didn't even see it coming. I'd always imagined this slow-motion, front porch, end-of-the-first-date sort of thing. The anticipation, the nerves. But it was just... sudden and unexpected. This is insane.

  "Something wrong?" she says, her hazel eyes soft and expressive, as if I'm about to unload the weight of the world and she'll gladly bear it all.

  "I — I don't know. I'm trying to figure out what's going on with your cousin. Everything he's done up until now... and then... I just can't figure out who he is, that's all."

  She just smiles and waits, like she knows I'll continue once I figure out what I want to say.

  "It's just... at the dance at the Pommeroy's, he tried to tell this other titled guy that I wasn't good enough to dance with. He told the guy he should dance with a lady instead. Like I'm not worthy or something because I'm just some commoner."

  Emily furrows her brow. "That is quite unlike him. I'm sure he meant no har
m."

  "But it was just so pompous, and every time I think maybe he deserves a chance or something, I think about it again and realize what a jerk he's been. Why would he tell Lord Brimmon I'm not good enough?"

  Her head snaps around and she looks at me. '"Twas Lord Brimmon?"

  I nod and narrow my eyes at Emily's reaction. "Why does it matter who it was?"

  Emily hesitates.

  "Tell me," I say.

  "Brimmon's known as a rake at best and a scoundrel at worst. If Alex was trying to talk him out of dancing with you, it was for the sake of your reputation, not his."

  My jaw drops. Could that be true? Could I have been wrong about him?

  Sigh. I've gotten nothing right in 1815. Nothing. I've been judging him for that comment since the moment he made it.

  "So... it had nothing to do with me not being good enough?"

  Emily laughs. "Oh, heavens, no. You're his guest. How could that be true?"

  "Oh... But then he was saying he'd dance with me because it was expected. Because I was his guest, he would do it out of duty. He acted like it was a chore."

  Emily looks downright amused. "Harksbury has hosted many guests. Alex danced with precisely one of them: you."

  "Oh."

  I stare down at my hands and try to suppress the urge to grin, but I can't stop it. It spreads until I'm beaming.

  Alex danced with me because he wanted to. Not because he had to.

  Is it really possible there's more to him than I thought?

  "Well now I've screwed everything up..." I trail off. I don't think I can admit to the botched kiss moment with Alex. "He's going to think I'm a total freak."

  She furrows her brow. I don't know if she's wondering what's gone on between Alex and me, or what a freak is. "I am certain he would not think such a thing."

  I wish I could believe her. But I know the truth: there's no way Alex is ever going to kiss me again.

  No matter how much I want it.

  Chapter 27