Prada and Prejudice

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.