Her head snaps around and she looks at me. '"Twas Lord Brimmon?"

I nod and narrow my eyes at Emily's reaction. "Why does it matter who it was?"

Emily hesitates.

"Tell me," I say.

"Brimmon's known as a rake at best and a scoundrel at worst. If Alex was trying to talk him out of dancing with you, it was for the sake of your reputation, not his."

My jaw drops. Could that be true? Could I have been wrong about him?

Sigh. I've gotten nothing right in 1815. Nothing. I've been judging him for that comment since the moment he made it.

"So... it had nothing to do with me not being good enough?"

Emily laughs. "Oh, heavens, no. You're his guest. How could that be true?"

"Oh... But then he was saying he'd dance with me because it was expected. Because I was his guest, he would do it out of duty. He acted like it was a chore."

Emily looks downright amused. "Harksbury has hosted many guests. Alex danced with precisely one of them: you."

"Oh."

I stare down at my hands and try to suppress the urge to grin, but I can't stop it. It spreads until I'm beaming.

Alex danced with me because he wanted to. Not because he had to.

Is it really possible there's more to him than I thought?

"Well now I've screwed everything up..." I trail off. I don't think I can admit to the botched kiss moment with Alex. "He's going to think I'm a total freak."

She furrows her brow. I don't know if she's wondering what's gone on between Alex and me, or what a freak is. "I am certain he would not think such a thing."

I wish I could believe her. But I know the truth: there's no way Alex is ever going to kiss me again.

No matter how much I want it.

Chapter 27

It's only an hour later that a servant comes to my room. And when she tells me the duke has invited me out for a horseback ride, I'm flooded with the strangest mix of emotions. I can't believe that after running off like that, he still wants to hang out.

What is going on between us? And why do I want so desperately for it to be something? I shouldn't want anything. Not with a guy like him.

I mean, yeah, I might have been wrong about the illegitimate kid and Lord Brimmon, but the dude still thinks I don't have opinions or options because I'm a girl. He thinks I have a "place, my place" and that it's behind a guy.

And worse, I keep thinking about our kiss. The part where I bash into the wall in my haste to get away is a particular highlight on the reel I keep playing over and over again in my head.

When I walk out the back of the house and he turns to look at me, it's impossible to fight the burn in my cheeks as he steps up beside me and the horse. I can't look at him. I'm so embarrassed I stare at the stirrup as if it will take all concentration to get my foot into it.

Is he going to say anything?

Is he going to apologize for just... kissing me like that? Maybe if he brings it up... Maybe if he apologizes, I can apologize too. For running off. It was so sudden all I could do was react.

But he says nothing. He just steps up beside me and gives me a boost. I'm up on the first try and feeling rather proud of myself as I situate my pretty skirts so they drape over my ankles. Until, that is, I see him swing aboard and am reminded of how graceful and easy he makes it look, even when his horse swings away from him when he's only halfway on.

We ride past the stable, and when I glance in, I see one of the stable boys showing the other how to do the robot, his arms stuck out at odd angles, his hands dangling. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing when I see Alex's eyebrows shoot up so high they're nearly to his hairline.

It's nice seeing him caught off-guard. I like it. It makes me want to do something totally crazy, just to see his expression.

We ride around the front of the house, past the gardens and bay windows and stately front entry, and down the long drive. Two grooms trail behind us, playing chaperone, but I've gotten used to them now. It's not so bizarre. Today Alex wants to check in on some of the tenant farmers or something.

And it's going to be such a long day. I'm so screwed. I've been squelching a ridiculous crush on him for days, and I can't deny it anymore. I actually like him. What the hay? That makes no sense. How can I like him? Why do I like him?

And on top of all that, I'll eventually have to tell him the truth about who I am.

There's this dark cloud hanging over everything I do, the threat of the moment this world will be yanked from me because Alex and everyone else will realize I'm not Rebecca at all.

How can I be so afraid of that? Why are there moments I'm hoping I can stay here for a long, long time?

The advantage of riding along the road is that we can ride beside one another. As we walk down a tree-lined dirt street, I can't help but think I'd rather be here, right now, than anywhere else in the world. It's sunny but a little cooler than our last ride, so I'm not sweating like crazy. And Alex is wearing an adorable jacket with tailcoats that flutter every time the breeze catches them.

"If you loosen your reins, she won't chew quite so heavily on the bit," Alex says, once Harksbury is out of view and we're well on our way.

I look down at my mare to see her grinding her teeth against the metal bar in her mouth. I can hear it, like nails on a chalkboard, but I'm reluctant to let go of my firm grip.

"Promise she won't do anything?"

He looks solemnly at me and nods. I like that he's not laughing at me for how scared I am right now. I ease a few inches of rein out, and the teeth grinding stops. The mare stretches her head a little, but she doesn't speed up.

Whew.

I look up at Alex to see him staring at me, his lip quirked in amusement. His eyes are sparkling with the reflection of the green canopy of leaves we're walking under. The contrast to the anger I'd seen there earlier is startling. His hands rest on the glossy mane of his gelding, his hips swaying with the elongated gait of his much-taller horse. There's not a speck of dirt on his jacket or a tiny wrinkle on his starched white cravat. "Do you miss home?" Alex asks.

For a scary second, I think he knows. I think he's asking if I miss the twenty-first century and Starbucks and cars and electricity.

But then I realize even Rebecca is a visitor.

"Oh. Uh, yes." Are we on speaking terms now? Why does this all have to be so complicated and messy and... exciting?

And why is he not bringing up what happened earlier? Can't he just say something about it? There's no way I can mention it. No matter how close to the tip of my tongue it is, I can't get the words out.

"But are you enjoying Harksbury?"

What is he asking? If I enjoyed our kiss? If I regret the way I ran off? I stare at him for a long moment, straight into his eyes, even as my mare stops to nibble at some long grass and he's forced to pull up.

"Yes. I think it's going to be hard to leave."

He's still staring back at me when he nods. It's like there are so many more words passing between us than the ones we speak out loud. It makes me want to blurt out a lot of things I shouldn't.

I yank the little mare's head up and accidentally squeeze too hard with my ankles. She jumps forward and I have to grab the front of the saddle to stay on. I use my free hand to pull back, and she resumes an easy walk. Alex turns back to his horse.

"What will you do when you return home?" he asks.

"I, uh, I'm not sure. I feel a little differently, now. Than I did when I got here."

He nods as if he understands, but he can't possibly. I want to tell him about how Angela and the others ignored me before. I want to tell him about how intimidated I'd been, about how I was afraid to be myself. About how I bought these shoes but what I really wanted to buy was Angela's respect. I want to tell him that even though I know all that in some kind of objective way, I'd still feel awkward and clumsy in front of her. I'd still thrust those heels in her view and hope she noticed them. How can that be?

But he falls silent, and the words don't come. Maybe it's a good thing. Maybe he thinks I'm brave and smart, like Rebecca, and it would ruin everything if he knew how hard I tried and how I second-guessed every word that came out of my mouth. If he knew the real me, he wouldn't be interested at all.

God, what am I saying? He probably isn't interested. The kiss was probably a fluke — a heat of the moment thing. It doesn't prove he likes me.

We ride past a field of sheep, their wool shorn so they look tiny, with spindly little legs. We continue past rows of neat little crops and over a bridge and little stream that glistens with the sun. We ride over rocks worn smooth from carriage wheels. We ride for a mile in the cool shade of alder and maple trees.

Two hours later, we pause along the road, in the midst of cornfields. Alex turns his horse away from me and stares toward the crops for a long silent moment, and all I can hear is the distant sound of a cow mooing. And then he turns his horse around and heads back in the direction we came from.

"Are you supposed to... I don't know... see anyone today?"

He cocks his head to the side and smiles at me, like he knows he's been caught, but like he doesn't care. "Not entirely. There are days I simply want to ride and see the land that has been left to me. I fear I may never see it all."