Page 16 of Is This Real or Just Pretend?

Not long after luncheon and after her father practically shooed her out of the building, Alex reluctantly left the office—though she had every intention of returning later in the day.

Her presence at the meeting with Mr. Finch might be considered de trop by the attending parties, but she had a great deal of work to catch up on if she was going to be larking about the park all afternoon.

But first she needed to collect Aunt Winifred from Park House, her family’s Belgravia mansion.

It had once been two connected townhouses occupying the top of a crescent, but her parents combined them to create one larger home.

At the time, it had been considered rather gauche of them to do this, which Alex couldn’t understand given that many of their neighbors occupied far larger and often far more gauche mansions themselves.

But apparently it was perfectly acceptable if one merely inherited an obscenely ugly mansion.

The carriage pulled up outside the house and Alex sent Markham the coachman inside for Aunt Winifred. Then she pulled out Lucien’s contract from her satchel and began to make the necessary revisions, grumbling to herself all the while.

She still didn’t understand why he had looked so offended.

After all, he was a young man in London and she knew very well what young men in London got up to.

When her colleagues weren’t actively avoiding her, she could usually pass by unnoticed.

And so she learned an awful lot about what happened outside the office.

Married, engaged, unattached—it didn’t seem to matter.

They all reveled in the same frivolities.

Alex didn’t much care as long as it didn’t affect their work, but she wasn’t some moon-eyed clodpoll, either.

Why Lucien insisted that she be included in the decorum clause was another matter entirely.

Alex rarely mingled in society of any kind, and then usually only under duress.

She preferred her own company most of all, but enjoyed Will, Phoebe, and her parents in measured doses.

Freddie was only tolerable under very specific circumstances, usually when the rest of her family was present.

Alex had lived her life that way for years now. Happily. Productively.

And, on occasion, just a little bit lonely.

She grimaced at the thought. Perhaps that was true, but it was a small price to pay for the luxury of predictability.

Alex had let her emotions rule her once and the tumult that followed had been at far too high a cost for her.

“Good afternoon, Alexandra,” a voice cut through, startling her from her thoughts. “A fine day for a walk, I think.”

Alex lifted her gaze as her aunt climbed into the carriage and sat down across from her.

Blast.

She had let her mind wander and had barely gotten through the first sentence of the contract. That wasn’t at all like her.

“Hello, Aunt Winifred. Thank you for accompanying me today on such short notice.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble,” she replied. “Happy to help. Though your mother is rather frazzled. The responses for Phoebe’s wedding have begun to arrive and she may need our help going through the rest of them this evening.”

Alex held back a sigh. The wedding wasn’t for another three months and she was already sick to death of hearing about it. “Of course,” she said dutifully.

So much for returning to the office, then. Perhaps she could send Phoebe and Margrave an invoice for all the working hours she had missed as a wedding present. Only as a joke, of course.

“What is that?” Aunt Winifred asked, pointing to the contract in Alex’s hand.

“Nothing. Work,” she said, hurriedly stuffing it back into her satchel.

“My goodness. Do you take it everywhere with you?”

Alex stiffened a little at the disapproval in her aunt’s tone. “My work doesn’t end when I leave the office, Aunt.”

“I’m not sure your father even lives by that dictate,” she said with a laugh.

“Yes, well, he doesn’t have to anymore,” Alex grumbled.

Aunt Winifred’s gaze softened a little. “He owes a great deal to you, doesn’t he?”

Alex looked out the window as London passed by in a soot-tinged whirl. “We owe it to each other,” she replied honestly.

She very well knew that most men in his position would not have let their daughters step foot inside their place of business, let alone work there.

Yet Philip Atkinson had only too readily brought her into his world after she had left Oxford.

But though Alex might be been allowed to come to the office, meet with his mediocre employees, and turn their proposals into something that would actually turn a profit, it never felt like enough.

Even the men she worked with didn’t quite take her seriously.

They always seemed to find a way to undermine her suggestions, if not to her face then at least to each other.

Or convince themselves that it had actually been her father who had such brilliant insights rather than Alex herself. Never Alex.

She knew very well that if any of them had found themselves in such a position they would have left, in loud protest, in fact.

But Alex didn’t have that luxury. For there was nowhere else for her to go as no other firm would hire her.

So instead, she worked harder for longer and found some degree of satisfaction in that.

Until she came up with a plan to win the board’s unanimous approval as her father’s heir and take over the company herself one day. And for that she would write a dozen decorum clauses if it got her what she wanted.

Aunt Winifred cleared her throat.

Alex blinked. Her aunt had said something but her mind had wandered again . “Sorry?”

“I was saying that I don’t understand why you couldn’t come inside the house and change,” Aunt Winifred began. “As you have several lovely walking gowns in your possession.”

Alex was tempted to ask exactly how her aunt knew this, but the answer would likely only annoy her. Aunt Winifred and her mother had probably taken an inventory of her wardrobe in preparation for this blasted courtship business.

“Because there wasn’t any time,” Alex replied. “And walking gowns are the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of, given that I am perfectly able to walk in what I am wearing now.”

Aunt Winifred raised a brow. “You very well know that the purpose of a walking gown is to show off your figure to the greatest advantage while allowing for ease of movement during a promenade.” Her disapproving gaze skimmed down her figure.

“Alas, I cannot say the same of what you are currently wearing.”

Alex lifted her chin. “I don’t care.”

“But what about Mr. Taylor?”

“He saw me in this earlier and didn’t seem to mind.”

Aunt Winifred huffed. “Well, he certainly wouldn’t tell you. My goodness, Alexandra. You have a lot to learn about men.”

“I doubt that, given I work with them every day,” she replied dryly.

As she hoped, Aunt Winifred didn’t have a response to that remark and they traveled the rest of the way to Hyde Park in blessed silence.

They were to meet Lucien by the monstrous Albert Memorial and then walk along the path by the Serpentine.

It was a popular route that should give them plenty of time to be observed by the gossipmongers of the ton.

The carriage came to a stop and they disembarked not far from the memorial.

As they walked along the pavement, Alex spotted Lucien first. He was idly pacing around, hands shoved in his trouser pockets.

He hadn’t yet noticed them, so Alex took the opportunity to look him over freely.

Lucien still wore that brown town suit from earlier—the one that fit him remarkably well, though it was just a bit too short.

She was curious when he had acquired it, given that his evening suit had not been of equal quality.

But though Alex did not move about much in society, she very well knew that it was not the sort of thing one could discuss with a gentleman, so her curiosity would remain unsated.

“Oh, there he is,” Aunt Winifred cut in. “My, he is looking very well today.”

Alex made a noncommittal hum, though her eyes never left his figure.

He looked directly at her then, as if he had sensed her presence, and as their eyes met Alex felt a strange jolt of awareness, even at this distance. He smiled and raised a hand in greeting and Alex did the same, though she felt horribly awkward, like an old forgotten automaton in need of oil.

As they approached, her aunt leaned in by her ear. “There is a little path not far from here that offers some privacy,” she murmured. “I will conveniently get lost, if you like.”

“No,” Alex gritted out, keeping her smile. “That will not be necessary.”

Aunt Winifred huffed. “Oh, you are no fun,” she teased.

The comment had been playfully meant, and yet Alex couldn’t help bristling.

It was true, after all. Freddie was fun.

Phoebe was fun too, when she wasn’t worried about that school of hers.

But Alex? No one would ever call her fun.

And even when she was having fun, people criticized her for not having fun in the right way.

In their way. She was told to smile. To talk more.

To laugh louder. Since continually failing to meet other people’s expectations was exhausting, Alex removed herself from such situations as much as possible.

But as she stared at the handsome young man waiting for her, Alex understood that she wouldn’t have that luxury anymore. And a pit formed in her stomach.

“Are you all right, my dear?” Aunt Winifred murmured.

Alex gave herself a shake, but the feeling that had begun to coil in her belly did not dissipate. “Yes. Only I… I…” she struggled to explain herself. Luckily, her aunt’s eyes softened and she patted her arm.

“It’s perfectly natural to feel nervous.”

Nervous.

Alex nearly laughed. That was it. She was nervous.

And more than a little worried that she wouldn’t be able to do this.

Before she could check the impulse, she covered her aunt’s hand with her own and gave it a squeeze.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said honestly.

Just as a look of surprise crossed her aunt’s face, Alex turned to Lucien.

“Good afternoon. I see you managed to find the place,” she quipped.

Lucien laughed. “Yes, and I only got lost once on the way. I suppose that counts as progress.”

Alex’s smile grew as they stared at each other for a moment.

His eyes really were the most beautiful shade.

In this light they looked more green than hazel.

Her aunt cleared her throat then and Alex blinked.

Goodness, she had actually forgotten about Aunt Winifred.

“Oh, my apologies,” Alex said abruptly. “Do you remember my aunt, Mrs. Winifred Bailey? Perhaps you met at the party the other night.”

Lucien took Aunt Winifred’s offered hand and bowed with perfect politeness. “Yes, we did. A pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Bailey.”

“You as well, Mr. Taylor,” her aunt preened. “And don’t worry. I won’t interfere too much. I know how young people are these days.” Then she turned to Alex. “Shall we move on to the park?”

Alex nodded and together they walked toward the nearest entrance. After a moment, Aunt Winifred pried Alex’s hand off of her own and tilted her head toward Lucien, who was a few steps ahead. Alex had been gripping her aunt’s hand rather tightly and immediately released her.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“It’s fine,” her aunt gently replied. “But go on. I’ll hang back and give you a bit of privacy.”

Alex swallowed and nodded, then she moved next to Lucien, who waited for her by the entrance. She flashed him a small smile as she was beset by nerves once more, but Lucien looked perfectly at ease as he offered her his arm.

“Shall we?”

Alex stared at it for a moment as the strangest sensation washed over her. It felt as if she stood at the edge of some great precipice and, once she stepped forward, she would not be able to return.

She glanced up at Lucien and found him watching her intently. Briefly, she wondered if he felt it too but something in his gaze set her at ease.

And then, she took it.