Page 17 of Is This Real or Just Pretend?

Lucien and Alex walked along in companiable silence for a few minutes.

He sensed that Alex was far more comfortable behind her desk than on his arm, so rather than force her to talk, he let her take the lead.

Meanwhile, he was perfectly happy to enjoy their quiet stroll.

It was a lovely afternoon. One of those rare moments when the English weather was close to perfect.

A light breeze ruffled his hair and Lucien closed his eyes and tilted his head toward the sky, enjoying the faintly warming rays of autumn sun.

“What did you do after you left the office?”

Lucien blinked at the abrupt question and glanced down at Alex, but she was still looking ahead. “I went to the British Museum.”

She turned toward him in surprise. “What did you see?”

“The Anglo-Roman Gallery. I didn’t have time for much more than that. I’ve been wanting to visit since I was a boy, but I never had the chance before now.”

Her mouth curved in a small, delighted smile. “I’m glad you were able to go. That’s one of my favorite places,” she added shyly.

“It is?”

Alex nodded. “I try to visit at least once a week.” Then she turned back toward the path and for one wild moment Lucien considered asking her to keep looking at him. He liked when she looked at him, he realized.

“It’s quiet,” she continued hesitantly. “I like that. I like that I can simply go and look at things and no one expects me to talk. I can just… be.”

Something twinged in his chest at this admission. “Yes, it seems like an excellent place to do just that.”

Alex turned to him once more then, her dark eyes full of surprise, and the twinge deepened. She swallowed and his eyes were drawn to the movement of her pale throat. “Perhaps we… we could go there. Together.”

Lucien forced his gaze to meet her own and nodded. “I would like that,” he answered honestly.

But Alex frowned and looked away once more. “No one would see us there, though. Not the right sort, anyway.”

It took a moment for her meaning to penetrate his woolly brain.

The courtship. Right.

Lucien had forgotten about that.

We could still go, you and I.

He had just gathered the courage to say those words when two finely dressed ladies emerged from a curve on the path just up ahead.

Alex subtly stiffened beside him but she said nothing as they continued on.

After a few more steps, the two women took notice of them and whispered to each other.

As they grew closer, Lucien could see that one of them was staring at Alex in recognition.

“I thought that was you, Alexandra,” she said with a broad smile that reminded Lucien of a tigress. Or perhaps an eel. She wasn’t pretty, exactly, but she carried herself with the kind of confidence Lucien had recognized among the very wealthy.

“Hello, Mildred,” Alex replied evenly.

“Oh, you know it’s Millie ,” the woman said with a humorless laugh. “Millie Henderson now, actually. And this is my cousin Mrs. Bates.” She waved a hand toward the mousy woman beside her.

Alex nodded in greeting and then the two women turned expectantly to Lucien.

“This is Mr. Taylor,” Alex said after a moment.

“And my aunt, Mrs. Bailey.” By then her aunt had come beside them.

They all exchanged polite greetings, and while Alex’s expression remained neutral, the tension never quite left her body.

“And you are still Miss Atkinson ?” Mrs. Henderson asked, emphasizing her last name with brows raised.

“Yes,” Alex said.

When it was clear that she would say nothing more, Mrs. Henderson addressed her cousin.

“Alexandra and I were at Oxford together. Though I left as soon as Mr. Henderson proposed. Ghastly place, Lady Margaret Hall, though I suppose it was better than Somerville. Filled with nothing but godless bluestockings ,” she said, referencing Oxford’s other women’s college.

She then turned to Alex with a pinched look.

“But you had a much more interesting experience, if I recall.”

Something about her tone set Lucien on edge, but Alex’s expression didn’t change. “I found it very educational. Especially once I moved over to Somerville.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Henderson said, surprised. “That must have been after I left.”

“Yes.”

The woman let out a soft huff at this but said nothing more. Then they forced out a bit of small talk before the quota for propriety was reached.

“Well, it was lovely to see you,” Mrs. Henderson said at last. “Perhaps we will meet again this season?”

“Perhaps.”

Before things could turn even more awkward, Mrs. Bailey made some excuse and they continued on down the path.

“Well, that was unpleasant,” her aunt remarked once they were out of earshot. “What on earth happened between you, Alex?”

“Nothing,” she said far too quickly. “Mildred is a silly woman. She only bothered with Oxford in the first place to make her beau jealous or some other nonsense and caused naught but trouble while she was there.”

Her aunt arched a brow. “What kind of trouble?”

Alex’s lips pursed. “The distracting kind,” she said firmly. Then she moved ahead of them, signaling that the subject was closed.

Mrs. Bailey stared at her retreating back with a look of concern mixed with irritation. “Are you open to a little friendly advice, Mr. Taylor?”

“Certainly,” he replied.

“I’ve never met anyone quite like our Alexandra.

I’m sure you could say the same.” Lucien nodded at her expectant look.

Then her aunt sighed a little. “That girl carries so much on those slim shoulders of hers and hides it all from the world. She is a tough nut to crack, to be sure. And not many are up to the task.” Lucien couldn’t help glancing at Alex’s stiff form marching up ahead.

“But I truly believe it is worth the effort,” her aunt finished.

“As do I,” Lucien replied, mainly because it was the kind of thing a suitor would say.

But as her aunt gave him an approving smile and gestured for them to follow in Alex’s wake, Lucien recognized that it was also the truth.

Not for him , of course. But someday some other man might manage to storm the gates that surrounded Alexandra Atkinson.

And the rewards would likely be very great indeed.

After that uncomfortable meeting with Mildred Henderson, Alex let her aunt carry the conversation while they continued down the footpath.

As Aunt Winifred peppered Lucien with questions about his time in Paris while also relating her own experiences in the city, Alex couldn’t stop thinking of her brief conversation with Mildred.

It had been the knowing look in her former classmate’s eye that set her particularly on edge.

And you are still Miss Atkinson ?

Undoubtedly her aunt and Lucien had assumed it was a dig at her spinster status, but Alex knew the truth. Mildred was needling her quite deliberately about something very different.

Not Mrs. Chisolm.

For though she may not have completed her course of studies at Oxford, Mildred had been there long enough to share a tutor with Alex.

And long enough to notice that Alex developed something of a tender for Benjamin Chisolm.

Luckily, the idea that her feelings would ever be returned by such a dashing young man was too far-fetched for even Mildred to believe.

So the exact truth of the matter was safe.

For now. But it was the closest her secret had come to being revealed. And Alex didn’t much care for that.

As they grew closer to their starting point, Aunt Winifred not so subtly mentioned a tearoom close by but Alex had reached her limit for socializing for the day.

“I’m afraid I need to return to the office,” she said.

“Now?” Aunt Winifred frowned in disapproval. “You don’t mean to say you have more work to do at this time of day?”

Given that it couldn’t be later than half past three in the afternoon, Alex failed to grasp her point.

“That is exactly what I mean.” Alex then turned away as her aunt’s frown deepened and addressed Lucien. “You are still coming to the LaSalles’ on Thursday?” The question came out far brusquer than was polite, but Lucien simply nodded.

“I will be at Park House at seven thirty.”

“Good. I think it will be a productive evening.”

Now Aunt Winifred was staring as if she had two heads, which Alex did her best to ignore.

“I look forward to it,” Lucien replied.

Alex had the distinct sense he was fighting back a smile, though she failed to understand the source of his amusement. “Would you like a ride?” She gestured up ahead to their waiting carriage.

“No, thank you. I’d prefer to walk so I can get my bearings a little more.”

“A fine idea.”

Lucien then bid good-bye to Aunt Winifred and tipped his hat to Alex before striding off in the opposite direction. It wasn’t until her aunt cleared her throat that Alex realized she had been staring at his back.

Once they were safely ensconced in the carriage, Aunt Winifred gave her a sympathetic look.

“I think we should spend some time reviewing the particulars of courtship etiquette, my dear,” she said gently.

“Why? Mr. Taylor behaved like a perfect gentleman.”

Aunt Winifred rolled her eyes. “Not him. You .”

“Oh.” Alex slumped in her seat. “Was I being rude?”

It was an accusation her sisters made sometimes, usually when Alex was simply being honest about their terrible behavior. But if that was the case here, she would feel bad.

“Well, not exactly.” Her aunt hesitated. “But you could take a greater interest in him. Gentlemen like when you ask them questions, you know. So they can talk about their accomplishments. But you seemed distracted.”

Alex lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Was it seeing that Mrs. Henderson?”

Though she longed to deny it, Alex nodded reluctantly. “I wasn’t prepared.”

When she looked up again, her aunt was giving her a fond smile. “Yes, well, do keep in mind that might happen quite a bit now that you are moving in society more.” Alex failed to suppress her shudder.

Much to her mother’s dismay, after Alex had finished at Oxford she refused to have a season in favor of working at her father’s firm right away.

Thus, she rarely mixed with members of the ton apart from events hosted by her parents—and they were snubbed by the most exclusive circles on account of her father being born to a mere gentleman and not another aristocrat.

“But you shouldn’t let it bother you quite so much,” her aunt continued. “Don’t give them your attention. There is power in preparation.”

Alex let out a sigh. “What should I do instead?”

Her aunt looked thoughtful. “Whenever I encounter someone I don’t particularly like, I ask after them first. Then once they’ve finished, I say I need to go speak with someone else who is usually across the room.

” She flashed a sly smile. “I find it easier to end the conversation if I start it. Then I walk away and move on with my evening.”

“Really? That works?”

Her aunt shrugged. “Well enough. And it gets easier with practice. But you also have me. Perhaps we should make up a signal and I will come rescue you.”

Alex perked up at the idea. “What kind of signal?”

Her aunt tilted her head in thought. “It should be something you wouldn’t ordinarily do.”

“I can pat the back of my hair.” Alex then did the motion. Normally she never bothered to check her appearance once she left her bedroom.

“That is a good one,” Aunt Winifred said with a decided nod. “I will keep an eye out during our next outing.”

“And I will practice starting conversations. And asking Mr. Taylor questions,” she added.

“And listening ,” her aunt replied.

Alex bit her lip and nodded. This was getting to be quite a bit more work than she had been prepared for. But as the carriage pulled up to Atkinson Enterprises and she remembered all that was at stake, Alex was filled with a renewed determination to succeed.

Her aunt pulled back the curtain and gave the building a wary look. “Don’t work too hard, my dear. You’ll overtax yourself.”

Alex laughed as the coachman opened the door. “That hasn’t happened yet, Aunt Winifred.”

As she stepped down, her aunt muttered something that sounded vaguely like Don’t press your luck . But when she looked back Aunt Winifred simply waved good-bye. Then the carriage door shut and pulled back into traffic, while Alex was left standing alone on the pavement.