Prada and Prejudice (19 page)

And I can't be that person anymore. Alex
sees
me. And I don't want to be invisible ever again.

"Shall we get refreshments?"

I nod to her and follow her to the array of goodies weighing down the tables. I don't even ask what any of it is; I just grab a plate and a few items and retreat. I'm used to eating mystery food now. Once I opened my eyes a bit, it turned out to be pretty good. Well, most of it anyway. Some of it's still kind of sketchy.

I don't snack for long, though. Once Alex enters the room, I forget I'm even hungry and nearly drop my plate. A helpful servant scoops it up from my hands.

I see him in profile, his long lean body in stark shades of black and white: knee-high socks, dark, well-fitted pants, a jacket the color of midnight, and a snowy-white cravat as pressed and starched as ever. I'd think he looked entirely too formal, except my own dress is at least as fancy. Today, it's appropriate.

As much as it would he great to see him in a T-shirt, jeans, and hall cap, the formal attire simply suits him.

He surveys the room as the others take notice of his presence, hut before they can bombard him, his eyes sweep across to me and then stop. His lips give way to the slightest of smiles, and then he's heading straight toward me, leaving a gaggle of disappointed faces in his wake.

"Do I look okay?" I whisper to Emily, unable to take my eyes off of him long enough to check.

She squeezes my hand. "You look
...
"

"Stunning," Alex finishes as he arrives in front of me.

"Your Grace," I say, for the first time, and curtsy.

He looks amused that I've addressed him so formally. "My lady." He bows, a deeper bow than I've ever seen him do.

I rise and look him in the eye again. "I thought you said I wasn't a lady."

He smirks. "I thought you said you were."

We smile at one another, and the room fades around me.

"Save the next dance?"

I nod.

"Wonderful. I shall find you then."

And then he leaves me with Emily, and I finally know what a
swoon
is as I grab her elbow.

"I thought he might ravish you right here on the floor," she says with a giggle.

"Emily!"

"What?"

And then I can't help it; I burst into a fit of giggles with her, until my sides ache and I can hardly breathe. A few guests stare as they pass us
--
I'm betting such behavior is frowned upon
--
but I find that I don't even care. It's been
so long
since I've had a friend who made me feel like I could be myself. Ironic, since I'm Rebecca here, but it's still invigorating and exhilarating, and all we're doing is standing here laughing like total lunatics. It's definitely against Victoria's Rules for Proper Young Ladies.

But I don't care. I am me. Whether that is someone they like or someone they despise, I am who I am, and that's the truth.

When have I
ever
been this sure of myself?

"Is everything all right?" Emily stops giggling.

"Yes. I
--
" I pause, taking a breath. "I'm
...
better than all right." I glance around at the beautiful, sparkling ballroom and then back at Emily's smiling face. "I'm perfect."

Chapter 30

"Denworth is coming this way," Emily says, barely a heartbeat later.

"What? Where?"

Emily nods at an older gentleman marching toward us, and my heart leaps into my throat. He's shorter than I'd imagined, with a thin build under his colorful red jacket. His hair is a salt-and-pepper style that somehow looks aristocratic and noble. And then I look at his face.

Oh God, he looks
...

Perfectly happy? That can't be right.

"What do we do?" I whisper, but it's too late for Emily to respond. He's six feet in front of us. Then three
...
then
...

"Miss Thornton-Hawke," he says, bowing in front of her.

"My lord," Emily says, and curtsies. I manage to mumble the same and follow her lead. "Thank you for your attendance in support of my new engagement. I know how difficult it must be for you."

I study his face. He is older, that's for sure. Old enough to be my dad. But he has this kind sparkle to his eye. I don't feel scared or intimidated like I thought I would be if I ran into him.

"Yes, it was certainly not easy to let go of such a charming and beautiful young lady.
Best wishes in your marriage."

I swallow, hard.

He's nice. As simple as that. The caricature I'd built up in my head was completely off-base. He actually wants what's best for Emily, even if he ends up getting the short end of the stick.

Emily still deserved the choice of her husband, of course, but obviously Alex wasn't trying to force her into marrying a lecher or anything, either.

And he probably knew that. If Denworth is a member of Alex's "polite society," Alex had probably met him. And knew he was a good guy.
That explains a lot.

"Thank you," she murmurs. "I hope your evening is an enjoyable one."

"Likewise," he says. Then he nods toward the two of us and walks away.

All I can do is watch him retreat. Emily wouldn't have been downright miserable with him. Would she have been in love? Unlikely. But he is not what I thought he'd be. Far from it.

"He doesn't seem upset about the broken engagement," I finally say, after a long moment of silence.

"No, he doesn't, does he?" She smiles, more to herself than to me. "I was surprised he would come, but then I think it was to squelch any further gossip. By giving his approval, he makes it appear as if it were mutual."

"Oh. That makes sense."

She nods. "And no doubt he's back in the marriage hunt."

I smile. I hope he finds someone who will make him happy. I guess he deserves that.

Before I can think of it any more, the song transitions, and butterflies swarm my stomach as if they're a mob of angry bees. I haven't even begun to search for Alex before he arrives at my elbow, escorting me toward the floor. The crowd parts as we walk through. I really am Cinderella tonight, about to dance with my prince.

We take our place in the formation, and I realize for the first time it's Victoria at the head, demonstrating a dance. She's glowing. This is her thing, this high-society hostess stuff.
I've never seen her beam from ear-to-ear like this.

Whatever floats your boat, I guess.

Once the dance has been demonstrated, Alex bows to me and I curtsy, and it begins.
We put our palms up to one another and walk in a small circle. I feel his eyes on me in an intense stare. It warms my cheeks.

Once back to my starting place, I drop my hand and turn in the opposite direction, and the move is repeated, palm to palm. I hate that there are gloves between us. I hate that I can't just wrap my arms around his neck and dance with my cheek against his shoulder like I would in the twenty-first century. If I had the guts, that is.

Next we move away from each other and do-si-do around another couple. I spin twice, my skirts flying out around me. Then I return to him, on my tippy-toes, then bow away from him, and then go up on my tippy-toes again.

His eyes never leave me. He's tall enough to see over the heads of most of the other guys in the room, and as we twist and twirl and bob and bow, he never stops watching me.

And instead of feeling gawky and clumsy, it gives me the strangest boost of confidence. I am flooded with adrenaline and energy. It runs up and down my arms and legs, and I want to grab his hand, gather my skirts in my free hand, and run away from the crowds so I can be with him. But I know it wouldn't be proper, and so we simply dance.

With every twist and dip, my smile grows. This must have been how Emily felt at the last dance. The reason she was glowing. And yet my brain keeps battling with my emotions, willing me to
tell him
who I am, to unload the truth. I know the clock is ticking. I know at any moment I can have everything yanked from me
--
yet another way I'm like Cinderella.

Every time we stand closely, every time he's looking at me, I try to tell him. I try to say
I'm not Rebecca,
try to say that I need to talk to him in private, but I can't get the words out of my mouth.

The song changes. The dance changes. But we don't leave the floor. We dance through three songs. It must be at least an hour's worth of dancing. I give up on the idea of telling him
anything
tonight. It can wait. It has waited thirty days; it can wait another. I'll find him in the morning, before Rebecca arrives. I'll explain it all.

It's not until I'm entirely too short of breath and dizzy
--
I blame it on the corset
--
that I have to bow out. Alex tries to follow me, but he is quickly swarmed by girls in fancy dresses and thick gemstones, and I can't help but smirk at the look on his face. I'm starting to think he doesn't want to be a duke at all, even if he doesn't say it out loud.

There are whispers as I leave the floor. All eyes are on me. I need fresh air, so I leave the room and find the courtyard, where several ladies are milling about. Emily is one of them.

"I was beginning to think you'd simply keep dancing until the guests had all gone home."

I laugh. "I was a bit short of breath."

"I'm sure the young ladies in attendance thank you."

"Was it that obvious?"

"His Grace would not have noticed if the ceiling had fallen in."

I know I should be embarrassed, but I just keep grinning. "I'm sure he was just being polite."

"A single dance would have sufficed. Three means he's taken an interest. Tongues will wag. You, my dear, have just become the belle of the ball."

"Oh, I didn't mean to steal your
--
"

Emily laughs. "Not at all. I owe my engagement to you. You may take all the attention you want."

I smile at her and try not to notice that what she's saying is true. People are watching us.

She's so sweet not to care that I'm stealing her limelight. She's just that kind of person.

I need to say something to her. I need to make her understand that no matter what happens tomorrow, I consider her a real friend.

"Emily
...
I... I wanted to say goodbye to you."

She looks up at me, startled. "Oh, I know my marriage seems so very close, but we have two days yet
--
"

"I know. It's just... things are going to change soon. And I want you to know that no matter where you
--
or I
--
end up, I've treasured the last month with you. You're a true friend. And I appreciate you being there for me. I will miss you."

She smiles, her eyes glittering, and hugs me. "And I feel the same for you, Rebecca."

It's like a stab to the heart. I wish I could tell her. I wish I could explain that's not who I am, but it would ruin her special night. So I bite back the words and simply nod and fight away the tears that spring to life in my eyes. "Shall we return?"

I don't want to miss the rest of the night. I don't want to miss a single dance. Emily nods, and the two of us hook arms and walk toward the ballroom.

And that's when I hear the collective gasp as it travels through the crowd. That's when the music stops and everyone goes silent.

"My God!"
someone says.

"Who is it?" someone else asks.

I freeze halfway through the door, paralyzed.

Oh God. There's only one thing that could be happening.

Only one reason the guests would be that stunned.

Rebecca.

She's here.

Chapter 31

I rush out of the courtyard, moving at lightning speed, though I can hardly feel the ground beneath my feet. I don't know whether to flee Harksbury altogether or run straight into the fray and try to explain myself.

It's over. It's all over. Alex will know everything. Emily, my first real friend in a year, will hate me. Victoria will know she was right to snub me.

I stop when I realize no one is looking at me.

If they knew I was an imposter
...

What are they looking at?

They're crowding around the area where all the dancers had been.

"Is she all right?" someone asks.

"She just collapsed," someone else says.

I grab the guy nearest me by the shoulder and spin him around. "What's going on?"

"Her Grace has fallen."

"Her
--
Victoria?"

The man nods.

I shove past him, past three young ladies in sheer, clingy gowns, and push my way into the crowd, elbowing my way past guest after guest.

"Excuse me!" I have to push, hard, to get one of the guys to back up.

Alex is on his knees beside her, and all I can see are the hem of her gown and her toes. She's lying on her back.

Oh God, oh God, oh God. This is not good.

"What happened?"

I fall to the ground beside him and pick up her wrist, trying to find a pulse. There's nothing. No, no, no! Is she dead?

"She was dancing and then said she needed to sit down. She complained of chest pain. Before she could make it to the chairs, she collapsed."

I'm leaning over her, my ear near her lips, but I hear only silence. She's not breathing.

"Was she holding her arm or flexing her hand? Her left one?"

"What?"

"Was she or not?"

"I
--
yes. What are you doing?"

I've started chest compressions. What if they don't work through the corset? It's so hard to tell if I'm on the right part of the sternum or not. Oh God, I hope it works anyway. If it doesn't, if she doesn't come back
...

"One-and-two-and-three-and
--
"

Alex shoves me, hard, off his mother, and I land on my butt, barely managing to catch myself before knocking my head onto the ballroom floor. My elbows slam into the ground, and pain shoots up my arms.

"You're killing her!" he growls.

I swallow, slowly. "She's not breathing, Alex," I say, knowing I'm not supposed to call him that in front of guests. "She's already dead. You have to let me do this. I can save her."

There's a wild look in his eyes as he hovers over her, as if he intends to protect her from an outward force while the life is slowly disappearing on the inside.

Every second matters. What is he doing? She's dying. She's lying there dying, and he's stopping me from doing the only thing that could help.

Agonizingly slowly, he leans back on his knees. I don't wait for him to give me permission; I just leap forward and pick up CPR again.

I press my lips to Victoria's, and the crowd around me bursts into a hum of conversation. They must think this looks totally crazy. When was CPR invented? I'm sure they've never seen it before.

They must think I'm a freak.

But I don't care. She can't die. Not like this. Not now.

I give her two breaths and resume the chest compressions. "One-and-two-and-three-and-four-and-five," I chant. I concentrate on the numbers, on the rhythm, and refuse to look at anyone in the room.

She can't die. I won't let her.

This is so unfair. Her whole life, she's gotten the shaft in everything. She had a husband who cheated on her, and when he finally realized she loved him, he died. And now she lives all alone with nothing but her precious etiquette.

She can't die like this.

Two breaths.

Five more repetitions.

She's so pale. What if I'm doing this all wrong? I only learned it last year, and we used dummies.

Two breaths.

Five more repetitions.

Alex is gripping his knees so hard his knuckles are turning white. The crowd seems to be pushing closer.

"Make them back up. She needs air!"

Alex is on his feet in less than a second, pushing the crowd backward.

Two breaths.

Five more repetitions.

Did her eyelids just flutter?

No, that's the dancing candlelight. Just shadows.

Please God, don't let her die!
This can't happen. She can't just disappear like this.

Two breaths.

Five more repetitions.

My lungs are screaming. I'm giving her all my breath. Or maybe I'm holding my breath. I'm getting dizzy, pushing on her chest.

"One-and-two-and
--
"

And then she moves. Her fingers flex and wiggle. She groans softly and I rock back and sit on my heels, watching as her eyes roll around underneath her eyelids.

And then they pop open. Her eyes are completely unfocused. She's staring upward, toward the chandeliers. She blinks a few times.

"Mother?" Alex's voice comes out garbled, like he's choking back the same lump in his throat that I feel in mine.

She's alive.

I saved her life.

I don't realize I'm crying until I feel the tears slide down my cheeks and drip to the ground.

She's alive. Thank God, she's alive.

"What.. . ?" she says in a hoarse whisper.

"Shh
...
" Alex says, holding her hand. "You fell. I thought you were gone but...
Rebecca saved your life."

Rebecca. Of course it was Rebecca. Why am I surprised and hurt every time I hear them call me that?

Victoria turns to look at me, and her eyes bore straight into me, slicing right through my heart. "Thank you," she whispers.

I nod as I climb to my feet, feeling the oddest mixture of elation and... nerves. Panic? It's all hitting me now, as I stare straight into her eyes.

I just brought her back to life. I did that.

I find myself backing away from them. The room is closing in on me. I need to get away, get some air.