Prada and Prejudice (17 page)

"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 harm."

"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

It's only an hour later that a servant comes to my room. And when she tells me the duke has invited me out for a horseback ride, I'm flooded with the strangest mix of emotions. I can't believe that after running off like that, he still wants to hang out.

What is going on between us? And why do I want so desperately for it to be
something?
I shouldn't want anything. Not with a guy like him.

I mean, yeah, I might have been wrong about the illegitimate kid and Lord Brimmon, but the dude still thinks I don't have opinions or options because I'm a girl. He thinks I have a
"place, my place" and that it's behind a guy.

And worse, I keep thinking about our kiss. The part where I bash into the wall in my haste to get away is a particular highlight on the reel I keep playing over and over again in my head.

When I walk out the back of the house and he turns to look at me, it's impossible to fight the burn in my cheeks as he steps up beside me and the horse. I can't look at him. I'm so embarrassed I stare at the stirrup as if it will take all concentration to get my foot into it.

Is he going to say anything?

Is he going to apologize for just
...
kissing me
like that? Maybe if he brings it up
...
Maybe if he apologizes, I can apologize too. For running off. It was so sudden all I could do was react.

But he says nothing. He just steps up beside me and gives me a boost. I'm up on the first try and feeling rather proud of myself as I situate my pretty skirts so they drape over my ankles. Until, that is, I see him swing aboard and am reminded of how graceful and easy he makes it look, even when his horse swings away from him when he's only halfway on.

We ride past the stable, and when I glance in, I see one of the stable boys showing the other how to do the robot, his arms stuck out at odd angles, his hands dangling. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing when I see Alex's eyebrows shoot up so high they're nearly to his hairline.

It's nice seeing him caught off-guard. I like it. It makes me want to do something totally crazy, just to see his expression.

We ride around the front of the house, past the gardens and bay windows and stately front entry, and down the long drive. Two grooms trail behind us, playing chaperone, but I've gotten used to them now. It's not so bizarre. Today Alex wants to check in on some of the tenant farmers or something.

And it's going to be such a long day. I'm so screwed. I've been squelching a ridiculous crush on him for days, and I can't deny it anymore. I actually like him. What the hay? That makes no sense. How can I like him?
Why
do I like him?

And on top of all that, I'll eventually have to tell him the truth about who I am.

There's this dark cloud hanging over everything I do, the threat of the moment this world will be yanked from me because Alex and everyone else will realize I'm not Rebecca at all.

How can I be so afraid of that? Why are there moments I'm hoping I can stay here for a long, long time?

The advantage of riding along the road is that we can ride beside one another. As we walk down a tree-lined dirt street, I can't help but think I'd rather be here, right now, than anywhere else in the world. It's sunny but a little cooler than our last ride, so I'm not sweating like crazy. And Alex is wearing an adorable jacket with tailcoats that flutter every time the breeze catches them.

"If you loosen your reins, she won't chew quite so heavily on the bit," Alex says, once Harksbury is out of view and we're well on our way.

I look down at my mare to see her grinding her teeth against the metal bar in her mouth. I can hear it, like nails on a chalkboard, but I'm reluctant to let go of my firm grip.

"Promise she won't do anything?"

He looks solemnly at me and nods. I like that he's not laughing at me for how scared I am right now. I ease a few inches of rein out, and the teeth grinding stops. The mare stretches her head a little, but she doesn't speed up.

Whew.

I look up at Alex to see him staring at me, his lip quirked in amusement. His eyes are sparkling with the reflection of the green canopy of leaves we're walking under. The contrast to the anger I'd seen there earlier is startling. His hands rest on the glossy mane of his gelding, his hips swaying with the elongated gait of his much-taller horse. There's not a speck of dirt on his jacket or a tiny wrinkle on his starched white cravat. "Do you miss home?" Alex asks.

For a scary second, I think he knows. I think he's asking if I miss the twenty-first century and Starbucks and cars and electricity.

But then I realize even Rebecca is a visitor.

"Oh. Uh, yes." Are we on speaking terms now? Why does this all have to be so complicated and messy and
...
exciting?

And why is he not bringing up what happened earlier? Can't he just say
something
about it? There's no way I can mention it. No matter how close to the tip of my tongue it is, I can't get the words out.

"But are you enjoying Harksbury?"

What is he asking? If I enjoyed our kiss? If I regret the way I ran off? I stare at him for a long moment, straight into his eyes, even as my mare stops to nibble at some long grass and he's forced to pull up.

"Yes. I think it's going to be hard to leave."

He's still staring back at me when he nods. It's like there are so many more words passing between us than the ones we speak out loud. It makes me want to blurt out a lot of things I shouldn't.

I yank the little mare's head up and accidentally squeeze too hard with my ankles.
She jumps forward and I have to grab the front of the saddle to stay on. I use my free hand to pull back, and she resumes an easy walk. Alex turns back to his horse.

"What will you do when you return home?" he asks.

"I, uh, I'm not sure. I feel a little differently, now. Than I did when I got here."

He nods as if he understands, but he can't possibly. I want to tell him about how Angela and the others ignored me before. I want to tell him about how intimidated I'd been, about how I was afraid to be myself. About how I bought these shoes but what I really wanted to buy was Angela's respect. I want to tell him that even though I know all that in some kind of objective way, I'd still feel awkward and clumsy in front of her. I'd still thrust those heels in her view and hope she noticed them. How can that be?

But he falls silent, and the words don't come. Maybe it's a good thing. Maybe he thinks I'm brave and smart, like Rebecca, and it would ruin everything if he knew how hard I tried and how I second-guessed every word that came out of my mouth. If he knew the real me, he wouldn't be interested at all.

God, what am I saying? He probably
isn't
interested. The kiss was probably a fluke
--
a heat of the moment thing. It doesn't prove he likes me.

We ride past a field of sheep, their wool shorn so they look tiny, with spindly little legs. We continue past rows of neat little crops and over a bridge and little stream that glistens with the sun. We ride over rocks worn smooth from carriage wheels. We ride for a mile in the cool shade of alder and maple trees.

Two hours later, we pause along the road, in the midst of cornfields. Alex turns his horse away from me and stares toward the crops for a long silent moment, and all I can hear is the distant sound of a cow mooing. And then he turns his horse around and heads back in the direction we came from.

"Are you supposed to
...
I don't know
...
see anyone today?"

He cocks his head to the side and smiles at me, like he knows he's been caught, but like he doesn't care. "Not entirely. There are days I simply want to ride and see the land that has been left to me. I fear I may never see it all."

"Oh."

We turn our horses and head back in the direction of Harksbury. I like the way he relaxes when we're this far away from it all. I'm starting to realize where he gets his attitude.

Why he's so uptight.

The world rests on his shoulders. But out here, it's just us. A guy and a girl. Riding horses. Hanging out.

"Thank you," he says.

Huh? "For what?"

He twists his reins around in his hands for so long I think he hasn't even heard me. It's the first time I've ever seen him fidget.

The only sound is the crunching of the horses' shod hooves over compact dirt and loose rocks. "For being who you are," he says. "You don't accept anything as it is. Not if you don't agree with it. You see things the way they should he and not the way they are
...
and it makes me want to do the same."

I just stare at him. Where's Alex and who is this guy?

"I've never met a girl who
...
challenges me as you do. I find I'm seeing things differently." He exhales slowly. "I should not have raised my voice to you earlier. I am sorry."

I almost choke on my own spit. First a compliment and then an apology?

And yet his apology is for yelling. Not kissing me. So what does that mean? He's not sorry he kissed me?

Something warm spreads through me and makes it impossible not to grin. Somehow, after all those confrontations, I earned his respect. By standing up for something. For
someone.

"Oh. Um, thanks," I say. "Does this mean you think I might know a thing or two you don't?" I smile at him and stare straight into his eyes.

Is this flirting?

"Perhaps," he smiles hack at me, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

I wish this moment would last forever. But it can't.

He reaches down to run a hand over the glossy white coat of his horse with one of his doeskin-gloved hands.

Say it. Just tell him you like him.

He looks up at me, and I dart my eyes away and stare straight ahead.

I like you.

But I can't do it. The words are caught somewhere at the hack of my throat.

"I believe my mother would like to host a dance in Emily's honor, to celebrate the impending marriage."

"Really? That's nice of her. I know she thought Lord Denworth was better." I look back at him again. Why can't I keep my eyes off him? Why do I want to just stare at him and smile all day?

He ignores my comment and clears his throat. He looks
...
uncomfortable? It doesn't suit him. "I'd like you to get a gown. Not one of Emily's. Your own."

I think I stop breathing. "I'm sure Emily has something suitable
--
"

"Emily is to receive a new gown as well," he says quickly. "You're to see the seamstress immediately."

"Oh. Um. Okay. I mean, thank you." I cough even though I don't need to, just to give me something to do so he won't see the goofy expression on my face as I cover my mouth with my free hand.

He nods and I let the conversation fall. It's got to be one of the most awkward convos I've had since my arrival, even though we're just talking about dresses.

Alex is giving me a gift. A gown. A
custom
gown. When is
that
ever going to happen again? Totally crazy.

But why is he doing this? Is this some kind of an
I like you and I'm glad we kissed
gift? But he's giving Emily one too. So it probably means nothing.

By the time we arrive at Harksbury, we've been gone for what must have been five or six hours. Alex and I ride past the front of the house and meet a groom around back. Alex hands off his reins and walks to my horse, and when I realize he's going to help me down, butterflies swarm my stomach.

I unhook my leg from the lip of the saddle so I'm facing him, and then he reaches up to my hips and helps me slide to the ground.

The result is that I'm standing closer than I'd been this morning when we kissed, with my back to the horse and my hands on his, where they rest near my waist. Am I still breathing? He's so close to me, staring down at me. Will he kiss me again?

Oh God
...
is he going to
...
?

Am I supposed to
...
?
Please
let this be a do-over of this morning
...
Wait, do I really want to kiss him now? What am I thinking
...
?
Oh, just shut up and go with it...

I stand on my tippy-toes and edge toward him, giving into the magnetic pull I've felt since the moment I met him. Just as I'm closing my eyes, I see him step back, and then I'm leaning into dead air. He's a few feet away before I right myself.

That was so not what was supposed to happen. He's staring at me with his lips slightly parted, something vaguely resembling worry in his eyes, and I don't want to look at him long enough to figure out what it is. Is he embarrassed? Repulsed?

My face burns. I was really going to kiss him and he just. .. backed away.