"I overheard you and Emily. You believe she and Denworth don't belong together. Why, pray tell, is that?"

Oh. So she's still in the dark.

Victoria only glances upward for a moment, as if she's hoping I won't realize it's her asking the questions. Not like there's anyone else in the room. Is it really that hard for her to be nice to me?

Now I'm the one studying my fork. Do I make up some fabulous reason, some compelling argument that Victoria would understand, or do I just tell her the truth? A woman like her doesn't believe in love. How could she? She was totally into the idea of Emily marrying Denworth. Said it was her duty and left it at that.

"She deserves better."

Victoria studies me for a moment. Her face is turned upward so she has to look down her nose at me.

"Better than a baron? She had as much a chance at love with Lord Denworth as she does with any one else. Perhaps more."

What's weird is I think she believes that. She states it so simply, as if it's fact. "How can that be true? Denworth is so old."

She sets the fork down beside her plate and stares straight at me. For once in her life, her eyes aren't piercing and scary. They've softened a bit around the edges. I get a glimpse of what Victoria may have looked like twenty years ago. And I think she must have been beautiful. "The duke was nearly five and fifty when we married. I was but twenty."

"And did you love him?"

The silence in the room tells me what I need to know. Obviously not. So why is she trying to convince me otherwise? I pick at a piece of fat on the roast and wait to see if she'll admit it.

"Not at first. Not until the last three or four years."

I look up at her, surprised. Three or four years? That means...

That's why the old duke was hoping the baby would go away. He was reconciling with Victoria. He was probably on thin ice and hoping she'd never find out about the kid.

But why couldn't he have helped her financially? They needed that.

Victoria's hands are still and she's staring back at me. Is she actually chewing on the edge of her bottom lip? Surely she's not. Victoria is poised and perfect at all times. "I did love him. But I tried not to. For years, I tried not to. And now I think of those wasted years and I wish I could have them back."

All I can do is stare. I'd been so sure she was grumpy for no reason at all. That she just thought she was better than everyone else. But in reality she's lived the most twisted and tragic love story I've ever heard. Way worse than Shakespeare.

So she's hiding behind all her perfect etiquette and all her rules.

"There are few who fall in love, Rebecca. Even fewer who stay in love. Emily has no better idea what she wants than I did. She will marry Lord Denworth, just as I married the duke. It is to be expected."

Oh, but it's not. She has no idea what is going on just a few miles away. No idea at all. She got lucky with the old duke. She fell for him. But I refuse to believe that some fifty-one-year-old guy has as much in common with Emily as someone her own age. Someone who might already be in love with her.

"Don't you think it's Emily's choice to make?"

Victoria's voice softens a little. "It will never be her choice." And for approximately one second as she looks at me, I think Victoria is trying to tell me that she agrees. That it should be Emily's choice, even if it isn't.

But then she ruins it. "Your elbow is on the table again." I roll my eyes but I pull my elbow off the table and sit back in my chair. I guess some things never change.

Chapter 25

Long after dinner is over, Alex and Emily have still not returned. He left this morning to get her. What could they possibly he doing? Emily was only supposed to be gone one night... and we're creeping ever closer to two.

I prowl the halls of Harkshury like a caged animal. I see the library and the study and the guest chambers and the court. I stumble into the kitchens and then three more dining halls.

I don't know what they're doing, what's taking so long, what's going on. What if something crazy has happened? What if they're like, arrested, or dead, or robbed or something? This is 1815. All sorts of crazy things could be happening.

I wonder if they went straight to her father. All three of them. God, what if he's insanely mad and wants revenge for her escapades? Alex seemed to think she was pretty much screwed.

What if I ruined her life?

What are they doing? I can't take another night of tossing and turning. I want all this to be over. I want to be home. In the twenty-first century, where stuff like this doesn't happen.

The twenty-first century. I can't believe I haven't been thinking about it more. Those first couple days, I was consumed by it. But lately I've been so busy with Emily's engagement and Alex's insults and Victoria's dinner etiquette... I guess I've been kind of swept up in all of it.

I have to figure out what I'm going to do. I can't just live here like it's my real life. Rebecca will be arriving in just a couple weeks.

And when she arrives, my cover will be blown and everyone will know I'm a fraud. So I have to come up with some kind of backup plan or strategy or something. But how am I really supposed to find my way back?

Maybe that makes no sense, but really, do I have any other options? If I can just focus my energies on something positive, maybe the rest will resolve itself.

For now, I'm still stuck.

At the moment, I'm somewhere in the east wing, strolling along and looking at all the paintings, a candle in one hand as the rest of the house darkens. It's mostly sceneries and landscapes hanging in this hall. Pretty rolling hills, big grassy meadows, majestic hilltops. It's not really enough to distract me, but it's interesting nonetheless.

I'm staring at a stormy sea raging against some rocky cliffs when I hear her voice.

Emily. She's back.

I pick up my skirts and run down the long hall, my slippers echoing loudly on the hardwood floors.

I skid around a corner just in time to see her take the first step up toward her room.


She hears me and when she turns, her eyes light up. I let out a big sigh of relief. There aren't tears streaming down her face or anything. That has to be good, right?

"Where's Alex?"

"He has gone to speak with my father." Emily purses her lips, and worry creases her brow.

I stop a few feet short, suddenly feeling like a wall has gone up between us. "Did you forget he had to give you permission? I had no idea. It doesn't work that way... in America."

She takes in a slow, calming breath. "I suppose in the excitement, I seem to have forgotten."

"Oh." I shrug because I can't think of anything else to do. "Did he say when he would be back?"

She nods. "In two days. It is a full day's ride to my father's estate. He will have to stop at an inn for the evening."

Wow. He's riding a full day each direction and staying at a hotel because of my interference. He cannot be happy.

"Well... how'd the, um, evening go? Did you enjoy yourself, at least?"

"Yes. We had a lovely meal by candlelight. He brought us a delightful picnic for dinner."

"Oh, great!" I say, with false enthusiasm.

For the first time, the conversation feels forced and uncomfortable, like we're two strangers. Emily's never looked this worried before. There's tension in her shoulders and face, and she's not bubbling over with excitement about spending an evening with Trent.

God, I really screwed this up. If Alex doesn't succeed...

Eventually, Emily is going to find out she trusted a complete stranger with her life. And I betrayed her.

I hate this.

"Okay, well, um, I'm going to go to bed. I suppose we'll learn more tomorrow," I say, filled with the desire to get out of her presence before I spill everything.

She nods and heads up the stairs. I follow her. We split up at the landing, each of us climbing the steps to our own wing.

I know one thing: I am getting no sleep tonight.

The next two days crawl slowly by. All I do is think of everything that could be going wrong, everything that could be going right, and everything in between.

And in between all that, I think of my life.

What if I'm actually missing in the twenty-first century? What if there are entire search parties, and my mom is a total basket case, and everyone thinks I got kidnapped? It was so hard to talk her into the class trip. She'll think it's her fault.

God, she would probably have to call and talk to my dad, too. And she hates doing that.

And if I pop back up and I've been missing for a month, what am I supposed to tell them? Oh, sorry, I took a vacation in1815. I got a little sidetracked with this whole arranged marriage problem. You know how that works. And I went to a few balls, and I wore corsets and stuff. Actually, the whole thing was sort of fun. So don't you worry about me! Really!

Eliza comes into my room when I'm already at the stool brushing my hair. It's got to be the first time I've beaten her to the task of waking me up and gotten out of bed on my own. I think she enjoys that part of her day the most, the way she rips off the blankets and throws open the drapes.

'"Is Grace's asked fer ye."

I freeze, the brush midstroke. "What?"

'"E wishes te see ye," she says, peeling my hand from the brush and resuming the untangling of my hair.

"He's back?"

She nods.

"Oh." I swallow. So now it's the moment of truth. Did he convince her father to consent, or is Emily's life officially ruined? Is he going to tell me that I screwed everything up and he was right?

I'm getting used to the whole process of dressing and I'm done too quickly for my liking. My walk to Alex's study is like the green mile. I wonder what he's going to say. This isn't going to be fun.

I step inside his study, but no one announces me, and he doesn't notice. So I just stare.

He's writing something. With a quill and ink. The well is sitting next to his right hand. He's so intent on whatever he's writing he keeps at it for thirty seconds before he sees me.

Long enough for me to see the way he narrows his eyes when he's concentrating and the way he purses his lips.

Long enough for me to wonder what it would he like to kiss him.

Oh God, where did that come from? I hate him. Hate him. There's no way I could possibly want to kiss him.

He looks up at that instant, and I do my best to just smile right at him and not give away my thoughts.

"Please sit," he says, rising. I nod and sit down in the same fancy chair as before. The door stays open.

I sit as erect as possible, my hands in my lap, my ankles crossed beneath me. Victoria must be rubbing off on me.

Alex comes around to the front of his desk and rests on it, crossing one ankle over the other as he leans back.

"What you did was overstepping your bounds."

I clench my teeth, hard, to stop from snapping back. I have to see where he's going with this before I get angry.

"You went behind my back and orchestrated one of the most ill-planned, riskiest schemes I've ever seen. I am shocked."

"But—"

He puts his hand up to silence me. "I won't tell you what I had to do to convince her father to consent to the new arrangement. You are lucky Mr. Rallsmouth will have the means necessary to support Miss Emily, as she will not be receiving a thing from her father from here on out."

All I hear is convince her father. "So it worked?" A grin spreads across my features and I jump to my feet. "She's going to marry Mr. Rallsmouth?"

Alex pushes off the desk behind him and stands in front of me. "Have you not heard a word I said? You made grievous errors of judgment. You—"

"But I was right! And thanks to me, she's going to marry the love of her life!"

He's standing right in front of me, inches away. "You were not right! You interfered and it was not your place!"

I clench my fists as my anger flares to match his. "You think nothing is my place because I'm some lowly, untitled girl! But someone had to do it, and you didn't care to!"

"You should not have gotten involved!" he growls.