Free Prada and Prejudice by Mandy Hubbard Page A

spit.
    Wife?
    Emily's smile turns stiff, and the light leaves her eyes.
    Now she looks eighteen.
    "Thank you," she says.
    I grind my teeth together. What's going on here?
    "Not yet," Emily says.
    Just as Victoria opens her mouth to speak again, Emily picks up another tune, up-tempo and loud, and it drowns out whatever Victoria had meant to say.
    It's clear Emily doesn't want to speak of the Denworth situation with Victoria.
    But I have to know what's going on -- something's not adding up. Emily should be happy about an engagement, if that's what's happening.
    Tomorrow, I'll get to the bottom of this.
    Chapter 12
    When I get up the next morning, I hurry to breakfast, which is served in the sunroom, a much smaller room than we'd dined in last night.
    I'm glad we're somewhere else. I don't want to remember the absolute disaster of dinner the night before.
    It all started when a servant walked into the drawing room after my piano-playing debut and said dinner was served. I'd skipped lunch in order to explore Harksbury, so naturally I was hungry. So I got up and headed to the dining room.
    Except I was the only one. Everyone else assembled in pairs, and I got stuck at the end with an elderly guy who was most definitely not as rich as the others. And as we followed the parade into the dining room, I realized we were placed in order of importance.
    One guess who was at the back.
    Me. Now why did that feel just like high school? So much for this dinner supposedly being in my honor! Not that I wanted that much of the spotlight, but still.
    It went downhill from there. I talked to the servants again. Yeah, that's most definitely a faux-pas. You could have heard a pin drop when I asked if they had ketchup. And then I stuck a knife in my mouth to eat a piece of chicken. Faux-pas number two. Oh and apparently I was supposed to hold a piece of bread in one hand and the fork in the other while eating fish. Faux-pas number three.
    I seriously could not keep up with them and barely made it out alive.
    This morning, I'm relieved to see Emily at the table, quietly eating alone. At least I can do everything wrong and she won't care.
    There aren't any servants around, so I just dig into the ham and fruits available on the sideboard. "So, uh, no bacon?" I joke. They always seem to prepare way more food than we could ever eat.
    These people have never heard the word moderation before.
    Emily looks up from her plate. "Victoria -- er -- Her Grace believes bacon is for the lower class."
    "Oh," I say, not sure how I'm supposed to respond. It seems kind of weird to decide we can have ham and not bacon, but whatever. I don't get anything in this century. I take my plate and sit down at the table across from Emily. The summer sun is already streaming through the windows. It must be at least ten or eleven. I've given up keeping track of time here; they seem to run on their own clock.
    The room falls silent again. "So, Emily," I say.
    She's been pushing her food around for ten minutes, and when I break the silence, she looks up as if she's forgotten I was even in the room.
    "This fiance of yours ... have you mentioned him before? I don't recall." Do I sound casual? I hope so.
    She shakes her head and then looks back at her plate. What happened to happy, bubbly Emily -- the one I've come to know and like? The one who is part-girl, part-puppy dog?
    "No. We've only just become engaged."
    "Where did you meet?"
    "At his estate, after my father arranged it."
    I don't like where this is headed. "Why did your father arrange it?"
    Her voice is flat. "For the marriage, of course."
    I really don't like where this is headed. "You don't mean ... he introduced you to him so that he could ... arrange your marriage, do you?" I know I sound really dense, but I've never encountered a real, live arranged marriage. I thought they were mythical. Sort of like unicorns.
    She just nods, but I see her swallow, and I wonder if she has a lump in her throat like I do. She's looking