Prada and Prejudice (15 page)

All I can do is stare at him. This is hardly the reaction I was expecting
--
nor was I expecting how truly adorable he looks when he's amused.

No. He is
not
adorable. "What is wrong with you?" I say, stepping closer. "Is this really a laughing matter?"

He gets his laughter under control and stands upright again, wiping a tear away from under his cheek.

"I simply find it extraordinary you think me of such loose morals that I could father a child and not do my duty to care for her."

"Then what is this?" I ask, shaking the letters.

"Did it not occur to you that they are addressed to my father?"

My jaw drops, and suddenly I'm frozen in place.

The Duke of Harskbury.
Your Grace.

The name Alex appears nowhere on them. Had they been dated? Did I even look?

The baby is his
sister.

"I
--
"

I'm at a total loss for words. All this time I'd watched him, steaming, believing he was having the time of his life living in this mansion and ignoring his responsibilities.

But it was his
father.

I shove the letters toward him, hating the way they burn in my hands. "What happened to them?" I ask, my voice suddenly hoarse.

Alex sighs and stares at the bundle for a long silent moment, as if lost in another world. His eyes turn soft around the edges, contemplative.

"The child's name is Amelia. I had no clue of her existence until after my father had passed. I discovered the letters in his study. It took me three months to find them. By then Amelia was nearly three."

Alex twists his cufflinks, an idle fidget that seems more characteristic of me than of him. That cocky flair to his posture has vanished, and for the first time, he looks like a teenager. "The mother was working as a maid for a baronet. They were managing. But Amelia deserved better."

Does he look
...
pained?
Cripes, the guy actually cares about her. How could I have been so far off?

"They live in one of my family homes up north. Greysbrooke, to be precise. With a full staff, including a governess for Amelia."

I swallow, hard, my heart beating in an unsettled, erratic rhythm. "You're taking care of them?"

He nods. "My father should not have left them to fend for themselves. She may be illegitimate, but she is a duke's daughter."

"I am sure they are doing marvelously now, thanks to you," I say, feeling like a complete and total jerk.

"It is my hope that I can avoid the worst of the scandal and Amelia may one day enter polite society. With me on her side, I can ensure she has everything she deserves."

I nod my head, a thousand words swimming in my mind, but none surface. They're all lost somewhere inside.

I was wrong about him. And now here I am, sneaking around behind his back, thinking he deserves it all. Maybe I shouldn't be doing this right now. I'm basically lying to him right this instant to help Emily escape, and he doesn't even know it.

He spent months looking for a half sister he'd never known just to make sure she was okay. That's the kind of guy he is, apparently.

No, I refuse to believe that. He's been a jerk in all other aspects. Maybe he doesn't have a daughter, but he still thinks girls are second-rate. I shouldn't
have
to go behind his back; he should be helping Emily! But he's not, so I have to.

I refuse to feel guilty for this.

"Thank you for returning these," he says, bowing slightly. "I am not sure why I am compelled to keep them."

"Sure. No problem."

I can't think of anything else to say as he turns and walks away. I can only hope Emily is gone, or the plan is ruined.

I return to my room and walk to the window seat. The rain is coming down harder now, leaving rivulets of water on the windowpane. I can faintly make out the glow of a lantern beyond the glass, near the stables.

My own room is dark with shadows. A hot coal fire glows in the hearth, and a candle drips from its place on my little table. I sit on the window seat and pull my legs up beside me.

Emily is going to stay the night in a small gardener's cottage on the edge of Harksbury. She said no one has used it in at least two years, and no one will think of going there. She only has to be gone a single night for it to ruin her forever.

There's no going back. Whatever I've done, I can't undo it now.

Emily is ruined.

Chapter 23

The next morning, Eliza scurries into the room, and one look at her face tells me what I should have already known: I'm so busted.

"His Grace's requestin' yer presence."

Even though I know I should rush out, I just groan and throw the blankets over my head. No doubt he's already put two and two together given my weird antics yesterday and Emily's sudden disappearance. He'll know I was covering for her.

"Up with ye," Eliza says, ripping the blankets off the bed. Seriously. Did she have to do that?

I cross the cold wood floors and plunk down on the stool as she pulls a dress from the armoire. It's stuffed full now. Emily has been giving me gown after gown, claiming she doesn't like the color or the piping or the hemline. Girl knows a lot about dresses
--
I'll say that much.

"Did you have a good day off yesterday?" I ask as she pulls on my hair.

"Yes, miss. Thank you."

"No problem. I can't believe he never gives you full days off. That's totally unacceptable, isn't it?"

"'Tis twice as many afte'noons as most otha employers. 'E's quite fair."

Wait, what?
Two half days a week is
good
here?

Humph. Figures. I'm batting zero at this point. I should really stop assuming things.

Gah. Whatever. Even if I was wrong about that, too, Alex is still arrogant and sexist.
There's no way I'm wrong about
that.

Right. So, uh, back to the plan. "So, um, did you hear Emily ran away with Trent Rallsmouth yesterday?" I say casually.

In order for this plan to work, everyone needs to know about Emily's getaway. And according to Emily, the best way to do that is to let the servants spread the rumors. Eliza stops brushing my hair, her hand frozen midstroke. I wish there was a mirror in front of us.

I'd love to see her expression. "They ran away together. She doesn't want to marry her betrothed."

It takes another few seconds before Eliza resumes her brushing. "Oh? Is he the gentleman who arrived last night?"

I have to bite my lip to stop the grin from crossing my face. It seems the servants really
do
gossip. I bet that's how Alex knows already. He didn't notice Emily was gone
--
he heard about it. Perfect.

"Yes. That was him."

"'Tis . .. quite interestin.'"

"Mhmm
...
"

She grabs a sky-blue dress with white piping along the cuffs and hemline, and I put up with her usual tugging and pulling and hair-ripping routine. I haven't thought of exactly what I'm going to say to Alex yet. I thought I'd at least have the morning to come up with a speech of sorts.

Minutes later I'm descending the stairs following Eliza, my heart hammering in my chest so hard I think it's trying to break free. I can't see him. I don't have anything rehearsed. Maybe if I'd thought ahead, maybe if I'd
...

"Miss Rebecca Vaughn," Eliza says, as if to formally present me to Alex. I walk into some kind of parlor, trying to hold my head up high and act as if I'm not at all nervous. I halfheartedly hope Eliza will stay inside the room but she doesn't; she steps aside and lets me enter.

I walk to a high-backed brocade chair with gilded arms and legs across from the big sofa Alex is occupying and sit down. I cross my ankles and carefully spread out my skirts as if it's the most important thing in the world and requires every ounce of concentration.

Victoria would be proud.

"Where is she?" His voice comes out firm, demanding.

Wow. So much for stalling. I bite my lip. "Who?"

"Do not play games," he says.

I study my hands as they wring in my lap. I can play dumb, I can postpone this, or I can just tell him. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.

"With Trent Rallsmouth," I say, peeking up at him from underneath my lashes.

His eyes fly open and he sits up straighter.

"The boy from the dance? Where?"

Oh God. He does not look happy. "The gardener's cottage on the eastern edge of Harksbury."

Alex stands like he's the incredible hulk
--
so quickly I'm surprised the whole sofa doesn't fly back and crash into the wall.

Oh God, this was so stupid; he's going to kill me.

Or throw me in that dungeon I'm still convinced he has
...

"Please tell me they have a proper chaperone," he says.

I purse my lips and shake my head.

He sighs, a great drag of irritation, and crosses his arms at his chest. It makes his chest bulge with muscle, and I try to focus on the fact that he seems like he could wring my neck and not on the way he looks today.

Which, seriously, is pretty hot. His face is flushed in anger, which brings out his dark eyes
...

Focus.

"And I suppose you encouraged this tryst?"

I stand because I can't take the way he's towering over me. "Yes," I say, once we're more level. "She can't marry Denworth. She'll be miserable. So she's run away with Trent instead. I don't care what you say; it was the right thing to do."

He takes a few slow, deep breaths and then turns away from me. I can't see his face.
Which is worse, because what in God's name is he thinking right now?

"You fool," he says. It's so quiet I'm not sure I've heard him correctly.

"What?"

"You fool,"
he says, louder this time. There's no mistaking it. "It doesn't matter what he wants, or even what she wants. Her father has to consent!"

I stop breathing. "What?"

"She is three years from being twenty-one! Her father must sign papers consenting to the marriage!"

A sick feeling grows in the pit of my stomach and then spreads, until I start feeling shaky all over. I keep my hands at my sides and ball them into fists, so Alex can't see the way they tremble.

Why didn't Emily tell me this? How could she not know that her father has to sign something for her to be able to marry Trent?

I shake my head vigorously. "He'll agree to it. Denworth won't want her now. Not after she's been compromised. He'll break it off. And her father will have no choice." My voice comes out more desperate than I'd meant it to.

He whirls around so quickly I stumble backward on my skirts and he has to grab my arm to keep me from falling over. "You don't understand,
Rebecca.
"

Something about the way he says my name makes me want to shrink away.

"Her father is a spiteful man. He has refused to see me since my father died because he would have become the next Duke of Harskbury if it were not for my existence. Do you think a man like that answers to reason? And now she has blatantly gone against him. He'd sooner force Emily into life as a spinster than consent to the marriage."

His words ring in my ears, over and over, but I can't move or even acknowledge them.

A fatal flaw. That's what this is. A monumental, huge flaw in the plan.

I screwed up. I messed up the plan.

Not just the plan.
Emily's life.
How could I have done this to her?

But there's no going back. Only forward. This has to work. It just has to. There's got to be a way to salvage it. "But she doesn't need that when she's twenty-one? Can't they just... date until then?"

He shakes his head and snarls in disgust. "He is her guardian. She is legally bound to honor his wishes. If he chooses to lock her in her chambers until her twenty-first birthday, he may do so."

I think I am going to vomit.

Are Alex's lips still moving? Is he still talking?

What have I done?

Emily is the type to seek love. To crave it.

A life without it...

I barely make it to the chair before my legs buckle.

Alex groans and runs a hand through his unruly dark hair. "I have to fix what you've done. You'd better pray I'm able."

He strides to the door and then stops. "You'd best hope my mother doesn't hear of this until it's resolved. She has a fragile constitution. I won't have you risking her health."

I nod but I'm not sure I even heard what he said.

This is a disaster. I should have tried some other way, some way that didn't involve duping Alex and sneaking around and
...