Free Prada and Prejudice by Mandy Hubbard Page B

down, but I don't think she sees anything on her plate. Has she blinked? At all?
    "And ... do you like him?"
    She sets down her fork. "He is ... an agreeable sort of man. With great wealth. I shall want for nothing," she says. But it sounds ridiculous. It's like she's reading off cue cards.
    I shift in my chair. It's suddenly hard and uncomfortable. "But do you love him?"
    "I shall want for nothing," she repeats. Her eyes are a little shinier than they were thirty seconds ago. She picks up her fork, but her hand trembles a little bit when she grips it too hard.
    "Emily .. . you can be honest with me. We're friends."
    Even as the words leave my mouth, I want to take them back. Emily is such a nice girl, and here I am, lying straight to her face, over and over. Betraying her trust as I masquerade as her friend.
    Yet somehow even though I know she's friends with Rebecca, I kind of feel like we're friends too. There's just something about her that makes me trust her, even as I do nothing to earn her trust.
    That's when the waterworks start. She blinks several times, but the tears still escape and leave shiny, salty trails down her perfectly round cheeks. "I could never love him. He is callous and rude. He is thirty years my senior and quite set in his ways," she says, her voice quivering.
    Thirty years older? He's ancient!
    My jaw hangs open as I stare at her. She drops her fork with a clatter and picks up a napkin and dabs at her eyes, staring toward the ceiling. The cracks in her happy facade are spreading, and I think she's about to completely crumble.
    "Does your father know how you feel?"
    She nods. "Yes. I've pleaded with him, but he will not be swayed. I think he tired of hearing my appeals, and that's why he sent me to stay for two months at Harksbury. It is his wish that I will return home at peace with his decision."
    This is so wrong, on so many levels. I can't even get words to come out of my mouth because there are too many spinning around in my head. Everything I come up with is empty and stupid.
    1815 is so screwed up. First the secret daughter Alex has ... now an arranged marriage? Could things get any more twisted?
    I've landed in Regency England: 90210. Just as much drama; a lot less glamour.
    Emily wipes her nose with a napkin and inhales deeply. "I was so pleased to see you when you arrived. You are so smart and independent; I just knew when you arrived early that it was a gift to me. You are my dearest friend, Rebecca. You must help me."
    Oh, wow, I feel like such a jerk right now. The real Rebecca is probably brilliant and would know just what to say in this situation. She'd probably have a hundred plans for things to do, and she'd launch right into action and find Emily a way to freedom.
    I can see it on Emily's face. She's looking at me with such hope, like I'll fix everything.
    She wants nothing to do with whoever this Denworth guy is. And I know in this moment, whatever I do, I have to get her out of it. I owe it to her.
    It's what Rebecca would do. So it's what I must do.
    Wait -- what if it's what I am supposed to do? What if it's the reason I'm here? What if somehow breaking Emily's engagement is my mission? My purpose? I found myself in Rebecca's shoes so I'd be in a position to assist Emily.
    If I do this, it could fix everything. And if it doesn't, well, then I'll try something else.
    There's got to be a reason someone from the twenty-first century is stuck in 1815, right? It's so I can assert my modern sensibilities and fix some things.
    "Don't worry, Emily. I'll help you. We'll break your engagement."
    I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know how I'm supposed to help her.
    But I know I have to. I just have to develop a plan.
    Immediately.
    Chapter 13
    I am in heaven. Well, as close to heaven as you can get in 1815. After watching what must have been eight different servants bring bucket after bucket of hot water up to my room, I have a full tub of gloriously warm water to soak in. And I'm not