The next week passed quietly. Emma did her chores without complaint, she sang the same songs as always when she worked, and she never forgot her American accent. There wasn't a need for it when she was just hanging laundry with Abigail, but she couldn't take the risk of slipping at a party. If she got used to switching now, she might switch at a dance, and that would be no good for anyone!

On Sunday nights Andrei would come over to sit in the parlour, and they would play chess, or talk, or sometimes just read silently in opposite chairs. It was Emma's favorite day of the week. She might have had to use a fake accent, and a fake name, but she felt she could be herself in every other aspect. She felt almost completely safe with him.

Of course there was a nasty voice in her head that told her he would hate her if he really knew who she was.

But this is who I am, she thought, I left behind my old life a long time ago. This is my life now, and Andrei knows me and not just a name.

You have left your old life, the voice responded, but has it left you?

"Emma?" came Andrei's voice. "Are you alright?"

She looked up at him. "Just a bit tired, I think. I'm sorry."

He cocked his head, his brow furrowed. "Are you sure?"

She nodded with a smile, turning the page of her book-- she hadn't comprehended a single word. "Really. I just got lost in thought."

He looked at her for another moment before going back to his book. Emma didn't look away.

The firelight cast a soft light on Andrei's relaxed frame-- on the way his dark hair curled against his forehead, how he leaned on one chair arm with his chin in his hand. Emma realised how straight his jaw was, how high his cheekbones were--

What are you doing? she thought, hurriedly looking down at her book, blushing. You are not going to fall in love with him. This is not a romance novel, Emma.

"Andrei?"

He looked up at her.

"Why do you keep coming?" she asked softly, closing her book. "Not that I want you to stop, I love your visits! But why? Aren't there better things you could be doing with your time? Better people to see?"

"I can't think of anyone," he replied equally softly, closing his book. "You're a remarkable girl, Emma. I love being around someone who can talk about everything. You have so many good ideas! I value your help more than I say, and I'm sorry I don't appreciate you more." He chuckled, looking down and then back up. "I will admit, too, that it's good to be around someone who doesn't always beg for attention. It's nice just to be in the same room as you, reading our separate books. You don't expect me to be perfect, and I don't expect it of you either."

"You're the best friend I've ever had," she said with reverence, looking down. 

She looked back up again to see his face flinch, but he covered it up quickly with a smile. "You are too." Did he sound a little sad?

"Do you think people talk?" She couldn't believe the words were coming out of her mouth, but she couldn't stop them. 

"About what?" He looked into her eyes, searching.

"About this, about you and me. Surely someone must know you come over so often. Word gets around so fast."

"My sister might have said something, but I'm not ashamed of anything. I want--" He stopped himself and turned to the fireplace. "I like being here with you."

"But where is it going?"

He turned to her. His eyes were like some sort of bird, trapped in a cage. "I thought you just wanted to be friends."

She cringed. Of course, now she'd gone and ruined it all by making the whole thing awkward. "I had the impression that was unspoken between us, to just be friends," she said carefully. "I don't think I'm ready for anything else. And now look," she said, feeling tears start in her eyes and her cheeks blaze, "I've ruined this, I've ruined our even just being friends!" She stood up abruptly and went to the mantel. 

He stood and went to her silently.

"What's keeping you?" he whispered.

"You wouldn't even want to be my friend if you knew." Her voice shook, but she could not look away from his face.

"I would." He reached for her hand. "Emma, you're one of the best people I know. Please, tell me. I know something's been bothering you for a long time."

She hesitated, wondering if she should tell him.

"Please," he begged. "Whatever it is, it'll stay between us. I just want you to feel better, Emma, can't you see?"

"Everything Hannah said was true," she said, tears coursing down her cheek. "Please, you can't tell anyone, not ever."

Andrei only looked confused.

"That man was my father, at the party last week," she said tearfully. "I'm not Mrs. Remigrant's niece at all. I am from Ireland, and my name is MacEilan. I hated lying, but my family-- my sisters and my brother and me-- we were alone, we needed money so badly, and she was willing to pay. I never dreamed it would go this far, and now I'm trapped in a disgusting web with no good way out." She pulled her hand out of his and turned away, wrapping her arms around her chest. Shame burned from her eyes and her cheeks, and a sob escaped her cheeks. "I didn't want to lie to you or anyone. At first it was just so nice, to be someone else. I would never have said yes if I'd known how it would turn out."

He was silent, but handed her a handkerchief edged with tatted lace. "I don't think less of you at all," he finally said. "You're still Emma. You're still one of the smartest, best people I know! It's very strange," he admitted as she wiped her eyes with the handkerchief, "to learn that my best friend isn't exactly who I was told she was. But-" he amended, "it doesn't change who I know you are. What's in a name?"

"You don't hate me?" She hated herself for blubbering like this.

"Oh, no, Emma, why would I? It's not your fault."

"It is," she protested, clutching the handkerchief. "I signed up for this."

"No, you didn't." He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're not less of a person just because your aunt isn't rich. You're not less of a person because you're from Ireland, or because your father is poor, or anything like that. I won't tell anyone. You can trust me."

He seemed so sincere, so thoughtful, and his hand on her cheek was so soft, that Emma absolutely melted. She began to cry anew. "Thank you." She covered his hand with her own. "Thank you, Andrei."

"What else are friends for?" he replied with a soft smile. His eyes were dark in the evening shadows, searching hers.

It happened in a moment-- both of them leaned forward at the same time, and the kiss only lasted for a second. Emma looked at Andrei. He was bright red.

"I'm sorry," he said, taking a step back and letting his hand fall to his side. "Now I've ruined any chance of us just being friends."

Emma stepped forward and kissed him again, and after a moment his hand cupped her head, and she pulled him closer, and it was real and wonderful and so vulnerable that she just had to stop. She pulled away quickly and stared at the floor. 

"I don't know what came over me." She turned towards the flames again, feeling her face go even redder, if that was possible at all. "You should probably go back to Tincup and forget any of this ever happened."

"Don't apologise." He smiled gently, leaning on the mantle. "I've been trying to get up the courage to do that for weeks."

"We can't be anything more than just friends," she insisted. "If my secret got out, you'd be ruined too."

"I don't care about that!"

Emma turned to him again. 

"My father always told me that I was no better than anybody else, just because he'd gotten wealthy. You make me happy, Emma, and you're the only woman I've ever met who I've ever considered spending my whole life with. I don't think we could ever be just friends."

"I don't know what to do," she said, her voice cracking. "I think we could be happy together, I really do. But what would everyone else think?"

"To hell with what everyone else thinks!" His voice had raised to not quite a yell. "This has been a rough night for both of us, I think."He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, gritting his teeth. "It's by no means orthodox, Emma, but what has been? I love you no matter what your name is who who you might have been! For months I've been coming over just thrilled to be with you. I've dreamed so many times about what our life would be like." He took her hands and whispered. "I'll keep your secret no matter what. I wouldn't betray you." His face was open and pleading. 

Her heart beat faster. "Where would we go? How long would we have to keep my secret?"

"That doesn't matter," he replied earnestly. "Trust me, Emma, we'll go far away from this place and no shame or scandal will ever touch you."

"I need a plan." She pulled her hands away. "Forgive me."

Andrei stepped back. "Think about it, then," he pleaded, walking towards the door. "Take all the time you need. If you say no I'll still keep your secret. If you say yes I'll be the happiest man in the world."

Emma opened the door as he put on his coat. "I'll tell you by Thursday," she said. "I want to, honestly, but I need a plan to get out of this mess. Not planning got me into it in the first place."

"I understand." He gave a small smile. "I'll come up with something. I will."

And then he walked into the cold, moonlit night, and Emma stared after him long after he had gone.

This was long and very overdramatic but I couldn't find a good place to split it! I've never really written anything this type of dramatic so this is a new experience, lol, but it was also kinda fun.

There's not that much left, but  I'm going to try to resolve everything as best I can! Tell me your thoughts/things you want to see/things you don't like!!!