Prada & Prejudice Quotes

“Shouldn't you have today off? Isn't it Sunday?"
"I've a half day off ever' three days. I'll be out temorra afte'noon."
I snort. "A half day?"
God, that's ridiculous. She doesn't even get a single full day off? What is Alex, some kind of slave driver? Jeez.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“What do you mean, ruined?"
From the way Emily swallows slowly, you'd think we were talking about smoking crack. "Compromised. By...by another man."
"Oh!" I say, too loudly. "You mean, if the girl's not a virgin, the guy won't marry her?"
She nods, her eyes wide, as if being a non-virgin is akin to being an ax-murder.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“If I ever get the chance to travel back in time again, I’m finding the guy who invented corsets and we’re going to have a serious talk.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“The books are all leather, and the titles are old. I pause at a collection of Shakespeare. Othello. Romeo and Juliet. A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I pull Hamlet out and look at it, but then set it back down on the shelf.
I pass a row of books on philosophy, and another on astrology. Up and down I go, pausing now and then, but not pulling any books out. I’m not sure what I expected to find. The Idiot’s Guide to Time Travel?”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“Oh. My. God. I’m a walking disaster,” I say to Emily.
She’s sitting on a stool, wearing a gorgeous yellow robe, and spins around to look at me.
A robe. Now why couldn’t I have had one of those?
“What is the matter?” She’s wearing little rag-curlers, like me, but on her they look cute and perky. The white cloth contrasts with her dark locks, like some kind of fashion statement. Somehow I doubt I look quite as charming.
I walk over to her bed and throw myself on it with a heavy sigh. “I just walked around wrapped up like this and ran into Alex. God, I’m lucky I didn’t see anyone else. I bet Victoria would have just loved seeing me like this.”
Emily giggles. “You do look quite silly.”
“Thanks,” I say, rolling over on the bed. “I can’t believe he saw me.”
Emily sips at a small glass on her vanity and then turns and stares right into my eyes. “I had believed you had no interest in my cousin.”
I snarl my lip at her in disgust. “Oh, I am so not interested in him. He is only interested in himself. I mean, really. Could he show some interest and compassion for the people around him? He’s totally self-centered. And on top of that, he thinks I should censor everything I say and be a docile little girl or something. I mean, really.”
Her grin widens. “There is no need to sway me. I believe you.”
“Oh.”
So then why is she grinning at me like that?
And more importantly, why doesn’t she hate him like I do? I mean, she might not know about the secret kid, but she knows he’s all for her marrying that Denworth guy because he’s done nothing to help her get out of it. Shouldn’t she resent him, even if he is her cousin?
“Now, let us talk of more important topics: our attire for tonight’s dance.”
And now I grin back at her and all thoughts of Alex disappear. This is going to be so fun.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“At some point I realize I’ve made it to the opposite wing. I spot the courtyard through a set of leaded glass windows and the view is the opposite of the one I’ve seen from my wing. Thank God. It would have been terrible to wander much longer, looking like I do. I could have run into--
Alex.
Alex!
Just seeing him makes my anger boil.
He’s staring at me, his mouth slightly open, his eyes wide. Is it me, or is he blushing? Hasn’t he ever seen a burrito-girl before? Or is it these dead-sexy rag-curlers in my hair that only an old lady would wear? Not only am I a burrito, I’m a geriatric one. Fabulous.
“Uh, I’m looking for Emily’s room,” I say. I tighten my grip on the blanket, hoping none of me is hanging out anywhere it shouldn’t be.
He doesn’t speak, just motions me to follow him. I walk beside him, the blanket dragging behind me. There are about a thousand things I’d like to say to him right now--Eliza’s pitiful schedule, that poor lady’s letters--but I can’t possibly have a serious conversation looking like this, so I don’t say any of them.
When we get to the door, it’s open, and he steps aside so I can enter. He’s so close to the door that I end up brushing past him when I go by.
“Thanks,” I mutter. As an afterthought I curtsy, but I’m not sure he can even tell because the blanket just sort of mushrooms out. I scurry through the door and slam it behind me, and then fall against it. Alex is probably staring right at the door in his face. Bet he doesn’t get that every day. It almost makes me feel better.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“And then it actually becomes the most interesting thing in the world. A single word is embossed in fancy calligraphy letters. A single word that makes it feel like the whole room is spinning.
Harksbury. What in God’s name?
“What is this?” I point at it and shout in Mindy’s ear.
She scrunches her eyebrows. “A coaster?”
I groan. “No, I mean, the name. Harksbury.”
“Oh. It’s the name of the club. I don’t know what it means, though.”
I do. It’s the name of a dukedom. I wonder if that means some relative of Alex’s invested in this place or something. Or if someone borrowed their name. Or what. But it has to mean Harksbury is real, that it existed. I stare down at the word again. If the shoes weren’t enough…It has to be real. And seeing it like this reminds me of how I felt there. How it felt to be Rebecca.
I tuck the coaster into my back pocket and try to ignore the stare Angela is giving me. She probably thinks I’m totally nuts, stealing a paper coaster. But it’s the closest I’ll get to a souvenir of my time-bending trip. And having it on me makes me feel stronger, somehow, like I can always be that girl at the ball.
I look up when the boys file in and sit down on a bright orange couch shaped like a slug. “Ladies. This is Grant, Tim, and Alex,” door-boy says. He doesn’t even introduce himself. I guess I’m supposed to know who he is.
I smile at Grant and nod at Tim, but when I get to Alex, I only stare.
Alex. The Alex.
No, no it can’t be. His hair is shorter, his skin smooth and shaven. He’s got on a green button-up, left open at the collar, which brings out the intense emerald shade of his eyes. There’s something different. The contour of his lips, the line of his nose. It’s almost him, but not quite.
And he’s staring back at me. Does he know who I am? No, that’s silly. It’s not really him. Not Alex Thorton-Hawke, the Duke of Harksbury. Just Alex, the twenty-first-century guy standing in front of me. In a nightclub. In real life.
Mindy jabs me with her elbow. “This is--”
“Callie,” I say, standing and reaching my hand out. “My name is Callie.”
It feels so good to say that. To be me. I grin involuntarily at the realization.
He smiles and shakes it. “Hey.”
For a second neither of us says anything else. We just keep shaking hands and staring at each other. My heart hammers out of control. I feel sweaty already.
But it’s adrenaline. Excitement. I’m not terrified anymore. Not of Angela, not of Alex. I can do this.
“Do you want to dance?” I ask. Did I really just say that out loud? That couldn’t have been me. That was someone else.
“Huh?” He can’t hear me over the music.
“Do you want to dance?” I say, louder this time, with a little more conviction. For emphasis, I nod my head toward the floor. I’m really doing this.
“Yeah.” I’m not sure I’ve heard him correctly, but then he grabs my hand and leads me away, and I risk a glance back at the group.
They’re just staring. For once in my life, I’ve upstaged them. I grin back and then turn my attention to Alex. I’ve thought about getting close to him for a month.
I’m about to get my chance.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“This feels decidedly uncool, to be traipsing through mud puddles and squeezing past overflowing dumpsters, but whatev. It’ll keep my mind off Alex.
Alex. God, I wish I could have brought him with me. Put him in a pair of jeans.
I need to stop thinking of him. Stat. It makes my chest ache.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“I’m only halfway through with my makeup when Angela strolls out of the bathroom in a miniskirt and backless top.
“Wow,” Mindy says. I wonder if it’s the same wow I was thinking. As in, Wow, skanky much? I decide not to ask.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“A shower sounds like heaven. I wonder if it’s possible to run out of hot water in a hotel room.
I think I’m about to find out.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“I must have fallen asleep on a rock. It’s digging into my shoulder blade. I scrunch up and start to roll over, but then freeze.
It’s not just a single rock. It’s a giant one. Like concrete.
I go numb as I realize what this means. It can’t be…I ease open my eye, and then in an instant I’m sitting upright and looking around. And all I see are cars. And people in blue jeans. And street signs. And I smell smog and I hear radios crackling in the passing cabs.
I close my eyes for at least ten seconds and then open them again, but it’s all still there.
The twenty-first century.
I can’t stop my face from falling. I’m back. Just when I’d realized I don’t want this at all, I’m back. My shopping bags are strewn around me. I’m wearing jeans. A T-shirt. My heels.
I glance back to realize the Prada shop is still a few yards behind me, just where I’d left it. I’m sitting in the exact spot I’d fallen down.
I never left at all.
I stay put for a few moments as a pounding headache fades.
Alex. Emily. Even Victoria.
They were all make-believe. Some figment of my banged-up brain. That means the kiss…God, I made it all up! Every single thing!
I want to lie back down, close my eyes, and go back. I want horrible soup and stiff corsets and lump mattresses. I’ll trade it all to see Alex again. To go to Emily’s wedding.
A man trips on my foot and then has the nerve to glare at me, even though he basically kicked me in the shin.
Yes, I’m definitely in the twenty-first century.
I scramble to my feet and wipe the dirt off my jeans and lean over to pick up my bags. And then I notice them.
My heels. My beautiful, damaged heels. I glance over my shoulder. Yes, the Prada shop is definitely still behind me. I’ve gone maybe four steps from the door. Nowhere near enough to ruin the heels like this. They’re scuffed, dented, and scratched.
I gather up the rest of my bags, my grin in full-force. It wasn’t fake. It wasn’t make-believe or a dream or anything.
It happened. As sure as the mud on the heels, it happened. There’s even a dent where the front door of Harksbury bounced off the toe.
I don’t know how or why or anything, but somehow, I was there. I danced with Alex and helped Emily. I played a piano for a duke and a countess, and I ate more exotic animals than I ever wanted to.
But it happened. I don’t understand it; I only know that the last month was real, and it was the best of my life.
I sling the bags over my shoulder and practically skip down the block. No matter what happens next, no matter what happens for the rest of my life, I have something no one else will ever have. An adventure to rival Indiana Jones. A crazy month that can never be replicated.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“I knew the instant I saw you that you were not her.”
“But you didn’t say anything!”
He smirks. “To be honest, I was intrigued. I intended to question you in private, so as not to alarm my mother or Emily. But then I saw the change in my cousin. She had been quite despondent over her impending marriage--until your arrival. I admit I had no intention of interfering in her engagement, yet I could hardly take away what happiness you brought. Perhaps it was a way of alleviating my guilt for not helping her. And aside from that, you seemed to be doing no harm.” He grins at that last statement, as it’s obvious I was up to far more mischief than he realized.
“You mean all this time I’ve been freaking out over you hating me and you knew?”
He smiles sheepishly. It’s the closest thing to embarrassment I’ve ever seen on his face. “Yes.”
I groan. “I guess I deserve that.”
I turn back to the sky, and for the first time, an odd sense of peace washes over me. I want to stay here. I know now, without a shadow of a doubt, I want to stay here. Those mixed feelings have been replaced by something else: fear. Fear that it’s not really my choice to make.
His thumb picks up its soft circling on my hand. “What will you do now?”
“I don’t…I don’t know. I mean, I’m so lost I can’t find my way home. And maybe that sounds weird, but it’s true.”
“You may stay here. As long as you need to.”
I squeeze his hand. “Thank you. I’m not sure if I should, though. I belong somewhere else, and there may come a day when I need to go. When I…have to go. And I don’t want you to…I don’t want you to put anything on hold because of me.”
I can’t believe I just said that. I can’t believe I implied he’d be so stuck on me that he wouldn’t pay attention to the other girls and his supposed duty to find a wife. A Duchess for Harksbury.
“I would not wish you to leave if it is not your desire.”
I nod and swallow the boulder-sized lump forming in my throat. I don’t know if he feels quite as strongly for me as I do for him, but he does care about me. And it feels good. “Thank you.”
We turn back to the sky again, and I edge closer to him. I feel strange, dressed in my jeans and T-shirt, while he is still dressed as he always is. It makes it so painfully obvious that we’re from different worlds. Worlds that will never see one another. Worlds much too far apart.
I turn toward him, so my cheek is resting on the cool grass. When he looks back at me, his eyes nearly blend with the blades until all I see is a sea of intense green.
And then I do it. I edge closer to him, close my eyes, and kiss him. His lips are as soft and full as before, but I enjoy it this time, because my mind isn’t reeling like it was. I lose myself to the moment as he presses back against me.
It is perfect. It is everything I want it to be and more.
And then we both retreat, and I open my eyes.
He moves his arm so that it wraps around my shoulders, and I have somewhere to rest my head, and then I snuggle up against him and close my eyes again, as the heavy draw of sleep lulls me under.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“It’s Alex. He stands at the entry and looks straight at me. He’s not wearing a jacket or cravat, just a snowy-white shirt left loosened at the collar. It’s the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him. For a long time, we just stare at one another. There’s an invisible barrier between us, and I don’t think he’ll break it.
But then he does. “Might I join you?”
“By all means.” I gesture to the lawn as if I’m Vanna White, and he walks over and takes a seat beside me. For a second, I think he’s going to say something about my clothes. He stares for a long moment, his lips slightly parted, but then he just closes them and doesn’t say a word. He’s finally figured out I’m always doing the unexpected.
I lie back down and stare into the sky. “It’s a beautiful view, if you lie back. If, you know, that’s proper or whatever.” I silently curse myself for reminding him of etiquette, because we both know this doesn’t fall under Things A Duke Can Do With A Girl He’s Not Married To.
He smirks, those perfectly full lips curling up on one side, but does as I say and lies down beside me. As soon as his arm brushes mine, my heart beats triple time. His fingers find mine and he interlaces them, until we’re holding and staring upward. I fight the urge to glance at our hands to see if the moment is real. I close my eyes and lose myself in the feeling of his bare skin on mine for the first time. He brushes my finger with the pad of his thumb, little circles that make my skin tingle and jump. I can’t believe all those times and all those pairs of gloves, and finally, it’s just him.
“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”
I open my eyes. “Yes,” I say, barely above a whisper. I’m afraid to break the moment. It’s too perfect.
“You looked beautiful,” he says.
I smile. “You did too,” I say, and then cringe. “I mean, handsome.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“His eyes never leave me. He’s tall enough to see over the heads of most of the other guys in the room, and as we twist and twirl and bob and bow, he never stops watching me. And instead of feeling gawky and clumsy, it gives me the strangest boost of confidence. I am flooded with adrenaline and energy. It runs up and down my arms and legs, and I want to grab his hand, gather my skirts in my free hand, and run away from the crowds so I can be with him. But I know it wouldn’t be proper, and so we simply dance.
With every twist and dip, my smile grows. This must have been how Emily felt at the last dance. The reason she was glowing. And yet my brain keeps battling with my emotions, willing me to tell him who I am, to unload the truth. I know the clock is ticking. I know at any moment I can have everything yanked from me--yet another way I’m like Cinderella.
Every time we stand closely, every time he’s looking at me, I try to tell him. I try to say I’m not Rebecca, try to say that I need to talk to him in private, but I can’t get the words out of my mouth.
The song changes. The dance changes. But we don’t leave the floor. We dance through three songs. It must be at least an hour’s worth of dancing. I give up on the idea of telling him anything tonight. It can wait. It has waited thirty days; it can wait another. I’ll find him in the morning, before Rebecca arrives. I’ll explain it all.
It’s not until I’m entirely too short of breath and dizzy--I blame it on the corset--that I have to bow out. Alex tries to follow me, but he is quickly swarmed by girls in fancy dresses and thick gemstones, and I can’t help but smirk at the look on his face. I’m starting to think he doesn’t want to be a duke at all, even if he doesn’t say it out loud.
There are whispers as I leave the floor. All eyes are on me. I need fresh air, so I leave the room and find the courtyard, where several ladies are milling about. Emily is one of them.
“I was beginning to think you’d simply keep dancing until the guests had all gone home.”
I laugh. “I was a bit short of breath.”
“I’m sure the young ladies in attendance thank you.”
“Was it that obvious?”
“His Grace would not have noticed if the ceiling had fallen in.”
I know I should be embarrassed, but I just keep grinning. “I’m sure he was just being polite.”
“A single dance would have sufficed. Three means he’s taken an interest. Tongues will wag. You, my dear, have just become the belle of the ball.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to steal your--”
Emily laughs. “Not at all. I owe my engagement to you. You may take all the attention you want.”
I smile at her and try not to notice that what she’s saying is true. People are watching us.
She’s so sweet not to care that I’m stealing her limelight. She’s just that kind of person.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“Once Alex enters the room, I forget I’m even hungry and nearly drop my plate. A helpful servant scoops it up from my hands.
I see him in profile, his long lean body in stark shades of black and white: knee-high socks, dark, well-fitted pants, a jacket the color of midnight, and a snowy-white cravat as pressed and starched as ever. I’d think he looked entirely too formal, except my own dress is at least as fancy. Today, it’s appropriate.
As much as it would be great to see him in a T-shirt, jeans, and ball cap, the formal attire simply suits him.
He surveys the room as the others take notice of his presence, but before they can bombard him, his eyes sweep across to me and then stop. His lips give way to the slightest of smiles, and then he’s heading straight toward me, leaving a gaggle of disappointed faces in his wake.
“Do I look okay?” I whisper to Emily, unable to take my eyes off of him long enough to check.
She squeezes my hand. “You look…”
“Stunning,” Alex finishes as he arrives in front of me.
“Your Grace,” I say, for the first time, and curtsy.
He looks amused that I’ve addressed him so formally. “My lady.” He bows, a deeper bow than I’ve ever seen him do.
I rise and look him in the eye again. “I thought you said I wasn’t a lady.”
He smirks. “I thought you said you were.”
We smile at one another, and the room fades around me.
“Save the next dance?”
I nod.
“Wonderful. I shall find you then.”
And then he leaves me with Emily, and I finally know what a swoon is as I grab her elbow.
“I thought he might ravish you right here on the floor,” she says with a giggle.
“Emily!”
“What?”
And then I can’t help it; I burst into a fit of giggles with her, until my sides ache and I can hardly breathe. A few guests stare as they pass us--I’m betting such behavior is frowned upon--but I find that I don’t even care. It’s been so long since I’ve had a friend who made me feel like I could be myself. Ironic, since I’m Rebecca here, but it’s still invigorating and exhilarating, and all we’re doing is standing here laughing like total lunatics. It’s definitely against Victoria’s Rules for Proper Young Ladies.
But I don’t care. I am me. Whether that is someone they like or someone they despise, I am who I am, and that’s the truth.
When have I ever been this sure of myself?
“Is everything all right?” Emily stops giggling.
“Yes. I--” I pause, taking a breath. “I’m…better than all right.” I glance around at the beautiful, sparkling ballroom and then back at Emily’s smiling face. “I’m perfect.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“The neckline of my gown scoops low enough to hint at the boobs I barely have, but which are currently pushed halfway to my chin and squeezed together with this corset. Humph. So maybe corsets serve a teeny purpose.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“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.”
“Oh.”
We turn our horses and head back in the direction of Harksbury. I like the way he relaxes when we’re this far away from it all. I’m starting to realize where he gets his attitude. Why he’s so uptight.
The world rests on his shoulders. But out here, it’s just us. A guy and a girl. Riding horses. Hanging out.
“Thank you,” he says.
Huh? “For what?”
He twists his reins around in his hands for so long I think he hasn’t even heard me. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him fidget.
The only sound is the crunching of the horses’ shod hooves over compact dirt and loose rocks. “For being who you are,” he says. “You don’t accept anything as it is. Not if you don’t agree with it. You see things the way they should be and not the way they are…and it makes me want to do the same.”
I just stare at him. Where’s Alex and who is this guy?
“I’ve never met a girl who…challenges me as you do. I find I’m seeing things differently.” He exhales slowly. “I should not have raised my voice to you earlier. I am sorry.”
I almost choke on my own spit. First a compliment and then an apology?
And yet his apology is for yelling. Not kissing me. So what does that mean? He’s not sorry he kissed me?
Something warm spreads through me and makes it impossible not to grin. Somehow, after all those confrontations, I earned his respect. By standing up for something. For someone.
“Oh. Um, thanks,” I say. “Does this mean you think I might know a thing or two you don’t?” I smile at him and stare straight into his eyes.
Is this flirting?
“Perhaps,” he smiles back at me, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
I wish this moment would last forever. But it can’t.
He reaches down to run a hand over the glossy white coat of his horse with one of his doeskin-gloved hands.
Say it. Just tell him you like him.
He looks up at me, and I dart my eyes away and stare straight ahead.
I like you.
But I can’t do it. The words are caught somewhere at the back of my throat.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“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.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“My first kiss. That was my first kiss. And he’s a duke. I just kissed a duke. And I didn’t even see it coming. I’d always imagined this slow-motion, front porch, end-of-the-first-date sort of thing. The anticipation, the nerves. But it was just…sudden and unexpected. This is insane.
“Something wrong?” she says, her hazel eyes soft and expressive, as if I’m about to unload the weight of the world and she’ll gladly bear it all.
“I--I don’t know. I’m trying to figure out what’s going on with your cousin. Everything he’s done up until now…and then…I just can’t figure out who he is, that’s all.”
She just smiles and waits, like she knows I’ll continue once I figure out what I want to say.
“It’s just…at the dance at the Pommeroy’s, he tried to tell this other titled guy that I wasn’t good enough to dance with. He told the guy he should dance with a lady instead. Like I’m not worthy or something because I’m just some commoner.”
Emily furrows her brow. “That is quite unlike him. I’m sure he meant no harm.”
“But it was just so pompous, and every time I think maybe he deserves a chance or something, I think about it again and realize what a jerk he’s been. Why would he tell Lord Brimmon I’m not good enough?”
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.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“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 be 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.
“You should not have forced me to!” I say, jabbing my finger into his chest. “You should have been there for her when she needed you!”
In an instant, he closes the gap between us. His lips hit mine so fast I can’t even close my eyes. His hands find a place on either side of my face and pull me close, and for two-point-five seconds, I’m lost somewhere between closing my eyes and standing there, frozen. Somehow the eyes win out and I shut them, and my knees start to buckle as I press my lips into to his. I stop breathing and grip his sleeves with both hands to keep from falling straight over. His lips are warm and soft and…
And then I realize what’s going on. Who I’m kissing.
You’re not a lady, he’s said.
It stings as much now as it did the moment he said it. He thinks I’m unworthy.
What am I doing? I reel back and knock into the wall with a loud crash that makes him jerk his eyes open.
“I, uh…” I stutter, then spin around so fast my skirts twist around my legs and I have to wait for them to swing around again before dashing out of the room.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“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 in 1815. 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!”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“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.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“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.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“Oh God, this was so stupid; he’s going to kill me.
Or throw me in that dungeon I’m still convinced he has…”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“He sighs, a great drag of irritation, and crosses his arms at his chest. It makes his chest bulge with muscle, and I try to focus on the fact that he seems like he could wring my neck and not on the way he looks today.
Which, seriously, is pretty hot. His face is flushed in anger, which brings out his dark eyes…
Focus.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“Miss Rebecca Vaughn,” Eliza says, as if to formally present me to Alex. I walk into some kind of parlor, trying to hold my head up high and act as if I’m not at all nervous. I half-heartedly hope Eliza will stay inside the room but she doesn’t; she steps aside and lets me enter.
I walk to a high-backed brocade chair with gilded arms and legs across from the big sofa Alex is occupying and sit down. I cross my ankles and carefully spread out my skirts as if it’s the most important thing in the world and requires every ounce of concentration. Victoria would be proud.
“Where is she?” His voice comes out firm, demanding.
Wow. So much for stalling. I bite my lip. “Who?”
“Do not play games,” he says.
I study my hands as they wring in my lap. I can play dumb, I can postpone this, or I can just tell him. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.
“With Trent Rallsmouth,” I say, peeking up at him from underneath my lashes.
His eyes fly open and he sits up straighter.
“The boy from the dance? Where?”
Oh God. He does not look happy. “The gardener’s cottage on the eastern edge of Harksbury.”
Alex stands like he’s the incredible hulk--so quickly I’m surprised the whole sofa doesn’t fly back and crash into the wall.
Oh God, this was so stupid; he’s going to kill me.
Or throw me in that dungeon I’m still convinced he has…
“Please tell me they have a proper chaperone,” he says.
I purse my lips and shake my head.
He sighs, a great drag of irritation, and crosses his arms at his chest. It makes his chest bulge with muscle, and I try to focus on the fact that he seems like he could wring my neck and not on the way he looks today.
Which, seriously, is pretty hot. His face is flushed in anger, which brings out his dark eyes…
Focus.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“I knew you would help me. When I realized you’d arrived so early, I thought you were a gift from God. And now it seems I was right.” She grins again as she resumes her packing, and I smile weakly at her. What if this falls apart? She’s already writing her Academy Award thank you speech and nothing’s fixed yet. If she knew my track record for screwing everything up…”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“Below stairs,” as it really is called, is a rumor mill. Worse than high school. Not that I blame them. It’s sort of like the way the majority of the high school talks about the A-list.
Of course, when it’s time, the servants will become part of our plan.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“I can feel the spot where his fingers touched my hips like they’re still there, holding me. Not cool.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice

“Alex is standing so close I can smell him, this masculine musky scent that makes me want to rest my head on his chest and breathe in.
Which is absurd, and I need to stop thinking about it.
Wretched human being. Remember that.”
― Mandy Hubbard, Prada & Prejudice