Prada and Prejudice (20 page)

I flee the ballroom and head toward my chambers.

Chapter 32

Hours pass. I listen as the house falls silent, until I'm sure I'm the only one awake.

I saved Victoria's life. As much as that freaked me out when it happened, I feel nothing but a sense of peace now.

I hated her when I met her, and yet when she was lying there dying, all I wanted was for her to come back and yell at me for putting my elbow on the table. Maybe I never fully understood her, but I know she's a good person. And it wasn't her time.

And yet even as dramatic as that moment was, it's not her I'm thinking of now. It's Alex.

With just a few hours left until Rebecca arrives, I have finally admitted the truth: I'm in love with him.

How could this have happened? I
just
realized I didn't hate him, and now I'm full-on falling for him? For a guy who will probably hate me when he finds out I'm a fraud? That I've scammed his whole family into believing I was someone else so I'd have a roof over my head?

I slide out from the heavy comforter and go to the armoire. I know exactly where to look, and moments later I'm pulling on my jeans and T-shirt.

The outfit feels foreign. Free and comfortable and yet
not me.
How can I be the girl who wears this? I'm the one who dances and laughs and flirts in ball gowns.

I find my Prada heels and slip them on, carefully buckling the straps.

When did these shoes get so comfortable? A month ago, walking in them was torture. And now it's like they've molded to my feet. Like I belong in them. Or maybe they belong on me.

I pick up a candle that has been left for me, even though it's been steadily burning and is now little more than a tiny nub. I slip into the hallway and walk toward the front of Harksbury, the candle casting long shadows on everything I pass. It's eerie, like the haunted mansion at Disneyland or something. I half expect to see a ghost pop out.

I descend the stairs, cross the grand foyer, and quickly leave the house. I set the candle down on the porch and cross the drive until I stand on a small patch of grass. The moon is so bright it casts shadows.

I lie down on the grass and stare up into the stars. There are millions of them, sparkling and twinkling against a velvety-blue sky. I don't look at the stars very often anymore, but I bet they look nothing like this in the twenty-first century. It seems like I could reach out and grab a handful.

The door creaks open and I sit up, sure it will be a servant asking if I've lost my mind.
But it's not.

It's Alex. He stands at the entry and looks straight at me. He's not wearing a jacket or cravat, just a snowy-white shirt left loosened at the collar. It's the most relaxed I've ever seen him. For a long time, we just stare at one another. There's an invisible barrier between us, and I don't think he'll break it.

But then he does. "Might I join you?"

"By all means." I gesture to the lawn as if I'm Vanna White, and he walks over and takes a seat beside me. For a second, I think he's going to say something about my clothes.

He stares for a long moment, his lips slightly parted, but then he just closes them and doesn't say a word. He's finally figured out I'm always doing the unexpected.

I lie back down and stare into the sky. "It's a beautiful view, if you lie back. If, you know, that's proper or whatever." I silently curse myself for reminding him of etiquette, because we both know this doesn't fall under Things A Duke Can Do With A Girl He's Not Married To.

He smirks, those perfectly full lips curling up on one side, but does as I say and lies down beside me. As soon as his arm brushes mine, my heart beats triple time. His fingers find mine and he interlaces them, until we're holding hands and staring upward. I fight the urge to glance at our hands to see if the moment is real. I close my eyes and lose myself in the feeling of his bare skin on mine for the first time. He brushes my finger with the pad of his thumb, little circles that make my skin tingle and jump. I can't believe all those times and all those pairs of gloves, and finally, it's just
him.

"Did you enjoy yourself tonight?"

I open my eyes. "Yes," I say, barely above a whisper. I'm afraid to break the moment. It's too perfect.

"You looked beautiful," he says.

I smile. "You did too," I say, and then cringe. "I mean, handsome."

Silence falls over us, and all I can think are a million different ways to start a conversation in which I tell him that everything he knows about me is a lie. Every last thing.

I have to do this. I won't be able to take the look of betrayal on his face the moment Rebecca shows up. I know I could lose him this way, too, sooner than I would if I just waited for her, but it's not right. He makes such a point of being the perfect gentleman all the time.

How can I keep up this charade? He deserves so much better.

"My name isn't Rebecca," I blurt out. I stare at the sky as if I'm counting every star and can't tear my eyes away from them, but I don't actually see any at all.

His hand stops moving and the silence hits me like an anvil.

He turns to look at me. And when I turn toward him, my face is so close our noses nearly brush. I'm afraid to breathe.

"Who are you?"

I close my eyes. This is too intense. I can't look at him right now. He's probably never told a lie in his life. He won't understand why I had to. "My name is Callie. I'm American, but that's probably all I have in common with Rebecca. I was lost, somehow, the day I came here. I knew no one. And then Emily came along and called me Rebecca and invited me in, and I just went along with it. Except the real Rebecca is going to show up tomorrow and everyone will know I'm just a fraud."

My eyes are still firmly shut. I can't look at him. I'm afraid of what I'll see in his eyes, afraid of what he's going to say, afraid he's going to hate me.

"Open your eyes."

And yet I can't. They're glued shut.

"Callie," he says.

I open them. Relief floods me as I see that he doesn't look angry. "Say it again," I say.

"Callie," he says again, his lips quirked in a soft smile. "I knew you weren't Rebecca the moment I met you."

Now my eyes fly wide open. "What? How?" My mind reels back to that moment in the dining room. The moment he looked at me and his eyes shifted, and I feared he knew. And then when he merely bowed and I curtsied, and he returned to his seat, I was overcome with relief, thinking he didn't recognize me as an imposter.

He did. This whole time, he knew. That's why he looked at me oddly. That's why he was so cool to me during dinner.

"She has brown eyes. Yours are blue. She also has a dimple. Emily may not remember, as she was so young then. But I do. I was quite sweet on little Rebecca. I knew the instant I saw you that you were not her."

"But you didn't say anything!"

He smirks. "To be honest, I was intrigued. I intended to question you in private, so as not to alarm my mother or Emily. But then I saw the change in my cousin. She had been quite despondent over her impending marriage
--
until your arrival. I admit I had no intention of interfering in her engagement, yet I could hardly take away what happiness you brought. Perhaps it was a way of alleviating my guilt for not helping her. And aside from that, you seemed to be doing no harm." He grins at that last statement, as it's obvious I was up to far more mischief than he realized.

"You mean all this time I've been freaking out over you hating me and you
knew?"

He smiles sheepishly. It's the closest thing to embarrassment I've ever seen on his face. "Yes."

I groan. "I guess I deserve that."

I turn back to the sky, and for the first time, an odd sense of peace washes over me. I want to stay here. I know now, without a shadow of a doubt, I want to stay here. Those mixed feelings have been replaced by something else: fear. Fear that it's not really my choice to make.

His thumb picks up its soft circling on my hand. "What will you do now?"

"I don't... I don't know. I mean, I'm so lost I can't find my way home. And maybe that sounds weird, but it's true."

"You may stay here. As long as you need to."

I squeeze his hand. "Thank you. I'm not sure if I should, though. I belong somewhere else, and there may come a day when I need to go. When I
...
have
to go. And I don't want you to
...
I don't want you to put anything on hold because of me."

I can't believe I just said that. I can't believe I implied he'd he so stuck on me that he wouldn't pay attention to the other girls and his supposed duty to find a wife. A
Duchess forHarksbury.

"I would not wish you to leave if it is not your desire."

I nod and swallow the boulder-sized lump forming in my throat. I don't know if he feels quite as strongly for me as I do for him, hut he does care about me. And it feels good.

"Thank you."

We turn back to the sky again, and I edge closer to him. I feel strange, dressed in my jeans and T-shirt, while he is still dressed as he always is. It makes it so painfully obvious that we're from different worlds. Worlds that will never see one another. Worlds much too far apart.

I turn toward him, so my cheek is resting on the cool grass. When he looks back at me, his eyes nearly blend with the blades until all I see is a sea of intense green.

And then I do it. I edge closer to him, close my eyes, and
kiss him.
His lips are as soft and full as before, but I enjoy it this time, because my mind isn't reeling like it was. I lose myself to the moment as he presses back against me.

It is perfect. It is everything I want it to be and more.

And then we both retreat, and I open my eyes.

He moves his arm so that it wraps around my shoulders, and I have somewhere to rest my head, and then I snuggle up against him and close my eyes again, as the heavy draw of sleep lulls me under.

Chapter 33

I must have fallen asleep on a rock. It's digging into my shoulder blade. I scrunch up and start to roll over, but then freeze.

It's not just a single rock. It's a giant one. Like concrete.

I go numb as I realize what this means. It can't be
...
I ease open one eye, and then in an instant I'm sitting upright and looking around. And all I see are cars. And people in blue jeans. And street signs. And I smell smog and I hear radios crackling in the passing cabs.

I close my eyes for at least ten seconds and then open them again, but it's all still there.

The twenty-first century.

I can't stop my face from falling. I'm back. Just when I'd realized I don't want this at all, I'm back. My shopping bags are strewn around me. I'm wearing jeans. A T-shirt. My heels.

I glance back to realize the Prada shop is still a few yards behind me, just where I'd left it. I'm sitting in the exact spot I'd fallen down.

I never left at all.

I stay put for a few moments as a pounding headache fades.

Alex. Emily. Even Victoria.

They were all make-believe. Some figment of my banged-up brain. That means the kiss
...
God, I made it all up! Every single thing!

I want to lie back down, close my eyes, and go back. I want horrible soup and stiff corsets and lumpy mattresses. I'll trade it all to see Alex again. To go to Emily's wedding.

A man trips on my foot and then has the nerve to glare at me, even though he basically kicked me in the shin.

Yes, I'm definitely in the twenty-first century.

I scramble to my feet and wipe the dirt off my jeans and lean over to pick up my bags.
And then I notice them.

My heels. My beautiful, damaged heels. I glance over my shoulder. Yes, the Prada shop is definitely still behind me. I've gone maybe four steps from the door. Nowhere near enough to ruin the heels like this. They're scuffed, dented, and scratched.

I gather up the rest of my bags, my grin in full-force. It wasn't fake. It wasn't make-believe or a dream or anything.

It happened. As sure as the mud on the heels, it happened. There's even a dent where the front door of Harksbury bounced off the toe.

I don't know how or why or anything, but somehow, I was there. I danced with Alex and helped Emily. I played a piano for a duke and a countess, and I ate more exotic animals than I ever wanted to.

But it happened. I don't understand it; I only know that the last month was real, and it was the best of my life.

I sling the bags over my shoulder and practically skip down the block. No matter what happens next, no matter what happens
for the rest of my life,
I have something no one else will ever have. An adventure to rival Indiana Jones. A crazy month that can never be
replicated.

I continue in the direction of the hotel, feeling oddly out of place and right at home at the same time. A clock chimes somewhere in the distance. I wonder if it's Big Ben.

I wonder what time it is.

"Excuse me," I say to the first woman I see. She's wearing a sundress so loud I have to squint to look at her. "What time is it?"

"Two-fifty."

I thank her and then resume my walk. Two-fifty. I wasn't out long. Probably not even a full minute. I look at my shoes again, just to be sure they're still as scuffed as ever. I love them. I love every scratch and dent and mark. They're perfect.

I walk easily to the hotel, as if the shoes were made for me. As if they're sneakers and not three-inch heels.

I miss Alex.

I wonder if he remembers me at all. If no time passed here
...
what if the same thing happened there? What if the whole month starts over?

No, I can't believe that. If I remember him, he must remember me. Emily must be on her way to marry Trent. Victoria must be as grouchy as ever. It's simply not possible that they could all affect me so much and they wouldn't even remember me. I was there. I know it.

The hotel comes into view while I'm still thinking about it, and I slow down. Mrs.
Bentley could be anywhere. I so don't need to get caught, on top of everything else.

I slip into a side door using the room key and walk up two flights of carpeted stairs, my steps muffled. They're nothing like the grand marble staircase of Harksbury.

I swipe my keycard again on the door of room 312. Once inside, I drop all my bags and head straight to the bathroom.

A shower sounds like heaven. I wonder if it's possible to run out of hot water in a hotel room.

I think I'm about to find out.

I'm sitting in a chair on the balcony, watching the traffic in the street below, when I hear a knock on my door. It echoes across the room. I stare for a long while. Some crazy, wild side of me wants it to be Alex, even though that's totally irrational.

I can't really get over losing him in an instant. He was there when I fell asleep. Gone when I woke up. I wasted a month, thinking he was a jerk, and just when I realize he's a good guy, I'm gone.

I leave the balcony and manage to tangle myself in the sheer curtains flapping in the breeze. By the time I'm at the door, someone is knocking again.

I open it and my hopes are dashed. It's Mindy. She's standing there in the same jeans and pink cami as the day I left. The same cami as
this morning.
"Hey."

"Oh. Hi," I say, one hand still on the doorknob.

"So, urn
...
"

Does she look
nervous?
Is that possible?