Prada and Prejudice

Chapter 18

The next day, Emily is doing her best to show me one of her finer skills: needlepoint.

I suck at it. It took me ten minutes just to get the needle threaded, and then it promptly fell off.

I'm pretty sure this means I'd make a terrible wife in the 1800s. Needlepoint is like the ABCs of wifery or something. Emily, on the other hand, is taking it quite seriously, sitting regally on a brocade chair, her needle darting in and out of the fabric at a lightning pace.

We're in some kind of sitting room or drawing room or whatever it's called (they have too many rooms, if you ask me) on the first floor, in the west wing. This one is a vibrant sea of blue, from the curtains to the carpet, and the painting over the elaborate hearth is of a ship being tossed around in a storm. It was sort of jarring, to walk into this room and be assaulted by blue.

I'm sucking on the end of the thread, trying to get it to straighten out, when Alex strides in.

He bows to the two of us, and when he speaks, his voice fills the room, far louder and more booming than a voice should be before noon. "I intend to ride the estate today, if you two would like to join me."

I open my mouth to give him a quick, No thanks, I'd rather pull out my own hair, but Emily beats me to it.

"How kind of you to offer! We would love to."

Huh? I can't figure out why Emily doesn't hate Alex. He's a jerk and he's done nothing to help her out of her engagement. And now she's volunteering to hang out with him?

An excuse... I need some kind of excuse to get out of this.

Alex walks to the window and looks out, offering a rather flattering view of the back of his riding pants. "Did you enjoy the dance last evening?"

Is he making small talk? That's a first. "Yes, very much so," Emily says. "It was delightful."

I nod. "Yeah. I guess so." I won't say I had fun because I don't want him to get the wrong idea. I don't want him to know dancing with him was the most exciting part of my evening and the most agonizingly long half hour of my life.

Alex looks at me for a long silent moment. You'd think he'd bring up the big "lady" versus "miss" debacle. Or just that we'd danced. But he doesn't.

"Yes, I rather enjoyed myself as well," he says.

Seriously, what does that mean? I was the only girl he danced with. The entire night. Is he trying to tell me something? Ha.

Right. He probably means that it was all sorts of fun to insult me.

And that's when Emily starts rubbing her temple. She sets her needlepoint down and frowns, massaging in circular motions on the side of her face.

Oh, no, she's not—

"Dear cousin, I am coming down with a headache. Perhaps you and Rebecca ought to ride without me."

I get a twinge when I hear Rebecca. Every day it feels more like we're friends — and more like I'm betraying her.

And then she turns to me, knowing Alex can't see her, and winks.

"Oh, no, I—" I start to say, because I suddenly realize what she's trying to do. This cannot happen. A horseback ride alone with Alex? No thank you!

But Alex cuts in before I can stop her. "Yes, I would not have you overexerting yourself. We shall check on you when we return."

Okay, this is not how I want to spend my afternoon. Alone with Alex? I'd rather get a root canal.

But... maybe it's my chance to talk to him about Emily. Maybe he doesn't know about Trent. Emily said Trent was wealthy, right? He's not titled, but he has money. If Alex knew about him... maybe he would get Emily off the hook with Denworth.

Maybe that's why Emily is trying to arrange for me to spend time with Alex. She so owes me after this.

I can do this. I can hang out with him for a couple hours — long enough to talk him into helping us.

Emily jumps up from her chair far too quickly for someone with a headach and leaves the room before I can do anything.

I rub my eyes. It's going to be a long afternoon.