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“Are you going to go out tomorrow?”
“Probably not.” I might as well tell him the truth. Even if I knew exactly what Amber does when she goes out, there’s not much chance I’m going to be up to doing it too, even if it’s the best way to maintain my cover.
“I see.” It looks like he’s thinking, processing.
“What?” I prompt.
“Nothing. I was just wondering if you might change your mind about tomorrow.”
I freeze, completely confused. Disoriented. I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“You can still come to the garden party at the Harrows with me. If you want. No worries either way.” He sounds like he’s being intentionally casual.
“Oh. Okay. Well. Yeah. I guess I can do that.”
His expression changes. He doesn’t smile, but there’s something surprised and pleased in his eyes that makes me really happy I said yes. “Great.”
“Can you… can you remind me of the details?”
“Sure.” He pulls out his phone and appears to forward me something. “I know you don’t like Mimi Harrow, but I’m sure you can manage to avoid her most of the time.”
That’s a helpful piece of information for me. What else am I going to need to know?
What have I gotten myself into?
“Yeah. I’ll do my best.”
* * *
“Do you plan to tell me what that was all about?” William asks the following day, looking at me with cool, rather distant brown eyes.
We’re both seated in the back of his car, and I haven’t said much in the seven minutes since we left the Harrows’ huge estate about forty miles outside DC.
My feet are hurting from standing around in four-inch heels for three hours. My face is sore from the polite smile I held on my face during the entire length of the garden party. And I had one glass of champagne too many, so my head is spinning just a little.
I really don’t feel up to dealing with an interrogation—especially without any warning or preparation.
I thought things were better between us after our conversation last night.
I frown, just as cool as William is. “What do you mean?”
He arches his eyebrows in a slightly impatient expression. “You’ve never behaved that way at a social function before. So either something is going on you’re not telling me or a stranger has taken possession of your body.”
I gulp, my heart starting to race as a surge of panic rises fast.
Is this it? Have I finally been found out after thirteen days as Amber?
“That’s ridiculous,” I say, mostly to give myself more time to wrap my mind around what William is referring to. “I’m not up to anything.”
“Then why were you acting that way?”
I still have no idea what he’s talking about. I thought the garden party this afternoon went pretty well. I was really nervous since it was the first big social function I’ve attended with William, and I was surrounded by dozens of people who know Amber and might recognize that I’m not her.
I was even nervous about what to wear since my previous social experiences have never included fancy garden parties at sprawling estates. I puttered about with my hair and makeup until William finished getting dressed so I could take my cue from him. When he emerged from the closet in an elegant beige suit with a slightly darker tan tie, I realized I should wear a dress instead of the stylish pants I’d been considering.
I found a cream-colored dress in Amber’s closet and paired it with a chocolate-brown scarf and heels. And I was vastly relieved when I arrived at the party and saw from the clothes of the other women that I’d chosen my wardrobe exactly right.
The party wasn’t particularly painful. The formal gardens and old-fashioned setting were lovely and romantic, and everyone I talked to was civil and pleasant with the exception of one gorgeous brunette who clearly had a thing for William. I acted as if that woman didn’t exist while making sure to block her access to him. Otherwise, I let him do most of the talking and just stayed at his side, smiling, laughing, and murmuring agreement in appropriate places.
