He shakes his head. "No, I manage the tenant farmers. They live on the other side of the trees. I use the land between for fox hunting."

Ew. Fox hunting. Yet another of his delightful qualities. "That's cruel."

He looks over at me, one eyebrow lifted. "How so?"

"We learned about it in... a book." Way to go, I actually manage to stop myself from saying history class. "You block off all the fox dens so that the foxes can't get back home.

And then you release dogs and let them tear the foxes to bits when they find one."

He nods, his lips pursed together. I try not to stare at them.

"And exactly how does that prove your skill? All you do is ride around at breakneck speed to keep up with the dogs. You don't actually hunt the fox using your own skill — it's the dogs'. Why not just race around on your horse instead of killing some poor animal?"

"Women never understand the appeal of the hunt."

I snort. "There you go again, acting like we're a lesser species."

"It is men who have conquered this world," he states matter-of-factly.

"You're hopeless," I say, more disgusted than ever.

We ride into the woods, and the shade feels much cooler. I hope it keeps my face from flushing. I'm sweating underneath all these layers. We follow a wide path winding between dozens of oak trees, their limbs twisting toward the sky.

"The air always seems fresher in the woods," he says in an obvious attempt to avoid arguing.

"It is. Fresher, I mean. Plants breathe in carbon dioxide and release oxygen."

Alex twists around to stare straight at me. "You're simply full of scientific knowledge, aren't you?"

And he says it in the most annoying, condescending manner. I want to strangle him.

"God, you really hate that I know things you don't."

He scowls and turns forward again. "Of course not."

"Whatever. You're not used to being one-upped by a girl. Admit it."

"I'll do no such thing."

"Okay then, how about we talk science? Bet you didn't know that you blink more than four million times per year."

His expression remains unchanged, though I'm almost positive he's trying not to blink.

"And did you know it takes fourteen inches of snow to equal one inch of rain?"

His eyes are narrowed, but he hasn't spoken yet.

"Or how about that you lose most of your body heat through your head?"

"You've proven your point," he says.

"And yet I bet you haven't changed your mind about me," I say. "You're far too stubborn for that."

The conversation dies away when he moves in front of me on the trail, and we continue our ride in silence. I have a good view of him from here, and I can watch him without him knowing. And I like the way he looks relaxed. He's more at ease on a thousand-pound horse than at the dinner table. Oh sure, his shoulders are still squared, and his back is still straight, but he's sort of swaying with the horse's bouncy peppy gait, his hands giving and taking on the reins like they're rubber bands.

"Easy, Ghost," Alex says as we descend a small hill toward a creek. I can see his horse is nervous because its hindquarters swing sideways until the horse is actually walking that way, crossing its legs over one another as Alex pushes it toward the shallow water. "Give me a bit of room, in case Ghost gets any ideas."

I nod and pull lightly on the reins, trying not to overdo it like when I'd gotten on. The little mare eases to a stop and I try to relax my grip. I take the opportunity to rearrange the skirts of my gown, trying to get them to cover my feet.

Ghost is dancing around in the mud now, not wanting anything to do with the creek in front of us. His hooves are picking up, two at a time, making funny sucking noises in the slop. Alex is leaning the slightest bit forward, his hands resting on the horse's neck, like he's not at all worried about hanging on if the horse takes off. How can he look so comfortable?

The thing looks like it's ready to bolt.

The horse takes a couple funny bouncy steps and then lifts both front hooves and takes a flying leap over the water. Alex never leaves the saddle. He never looks fazed.

In fact, when he lands on the other side, he laughs — a real, no-mistaking-it laugh — and the sound is music to my ears. I wish he'd do it a thousand more times. Until this moment, I thought he didn't even have a real laugh.

Oh God, I should not be charmed by a simple laugh.

Jerk. Jerk. Jerk. I can't forget that.

He pats the horse's neck. "That's not quite what I had in mind." And then he turns around and tries again. The horse jumps again and ends up splashing in the creek. Alex is beaming. He turns around and crosses three more times, and by the end, the horse is plodding through like he's been doing it all day.

"We can go now."

I don't release the reins. "This horse isn't going to do that, is she?"

He shakes his head, and then he smiles at me. Directly at me. All the dislike I'd felt melts away in an instant, and I want to stand here all day in the glow of his smile. His lips are curled, and his eyes are sparkling in a way I couldn't have imagined. And I suddenly want to be close to him. Really, really close to him.

You are not a lady. I remember his words and bite back the urge to smile. Is it so easy to forget your whispered promises?

There are so many reasons I should stay far, far away from him. There's no way I'm going to forget about all that just because he smiles at me. Even if it is a totally devastating smile.

"No. Molly is an old hack of mine. She has been everywhere. She will cross without even looking at the water first."

I nod and click my tongue, too afraid to actually nudge the horse's sides in case she gets any funny ideas. But true to Alex's word, the horse plods down the bank, crosses the creek with a few splashy steps, and then I'm next to Alex again.

"Thank you for your patience," he says. "Ghost is still quite green. Though I am certain you noticed."

I just nod because I can't figure out why he's acting so happy. So nice. So... not like him. Ten minutes ago he was acting like there was no way I was smarter than him. How can he be this Alex and the other one too?

I try to make small talk. "So, what does it mean to be a duke, really?"

He straightens even more in his saddle, proving his shoulders apparently can go further back. All I have to do is mention the fact that he's a duke, and suddenly he's a peacock again. "The Dukedom of Harksbury was created by the king in return for years of service and loyalty from my great-great-great-grandfather. As the firstborn son, I inherited the title, the land, and the wealth. Each year I will serve our great country in the House of Lords, helping to create new laws. And then in the summer I return to Harksbury and see to the household matters. It is my duty to see that all here prosper."

All here prosper? What about all there? As in far, far away, with a baby? How can he act like he's this great, magnanimous guy and ignore those letters?

One thing at a time. I need to bring up Emily's engagement somehow. There's got to be a good opening if I keep him talking.

"So... all these other lords. Are you guys all equal or is there some kind of ranking system?" I hope this is all normal stuff to ask. Even though they don't have peers in America, someone in 1815 would probably still know what they were. But he doesn't know that, right?

"A duke is the highest member of the peerage. Under the royal family, of course. The older the title, the more prestigious. Under a duke is a marquess, followed by earl, viscount, and baron."

Okay, I have to stop stalling. I have to talk to him about Emily and Trent. "So, you have a lot of power then, right?"

That's it. I'll stroke his gigantic ego first and then segue into a plea for help.

He nods. "Yes, power comes with being a member of the peerage."

"Don't you ever want to use that power to help people?"

"Certainly."

Here goes nothing.

"The thing is, I met this guy named Trent Rallsmouth last night. He and Emily... like each other. A lot. And she says he's wealthy."

"And?"

"And so I think they should get married instead of her and Lord Denworth."

"I thought we'd agreed you would stop this and mind your place."

"I'll stop when Emily gets to marry the guy she wants to marry."

"Emily will marry Denworth because that is what she was told to do. She can not choose otherwise because of a passing fancy for another man."

"But—"

"No."

Okay, I can forget about Alex helping us. Conversation over.

I can't believe I thought he'd help. At all. He definitely does not care about Emily, or anyone else for that matter.

He cares about himself. And that's it.

But I'm not giving up. I promised Emily. There has to be something I can do. I'm from the twenty-first century. Land of equal opportunity and all that crap. I know things these people don't even know to dream of. I have to come up with something.

But what can I do? All I know is Emily's the only reason I'm not starving to death somewhere in the woods. If she hadn't been at the door that day, I would have been turned away.

And now, thanks to my lies, she believes I'm going to help her. If I want to channel my inner-Rebecca, if I want to be confident and casual and popular, I have to live up to her expectations. I have to fix this. Besides, if it's truly why I ended up here, then helping Emily must lead me to the way home.