Definitely Not Mr. Darcy

Chloe was shocked that he knew about the land thing, and even more shocked that he confided in her about it with the cameras rol ing. “You know about the land?”

“Know about it? Wel , her family’s been trying to claim a portion of our land as theirs for almost two hundred years.”

“It must get a little—old.”

Sebastian laughed. “Now, that was good.” He looked into her eyes, and she felt him taking her in. First her eyes, then her face, her breasts, her legs. He pressed against her arm and his breath warmed her cheek. “I need to spend more time with you. You’re just the tonic I need.”

Her breathing became heavier and her body ached to get closer.

One of the cameramen angled in, as if to capture her agony.

“You know where to find me,” Chloe said. “I’d be much obliged to you to take me away from my needlework and bonnet trimming.”

Sebastian clasped his hands behind his back. “Now then. I have a little task for you. See if you can find the castle keep. I’ve hidden something there for you.” He folded his arms, leaned against the chimney, and watched her intently, as if he wanted nothing more than to be here, with her, watching her.

“A scavenger hunt? What fun!” Chloe spun around. She was enthral ed. He had thought of a gift. He had taken the time to hide it here, in this enchanting spot.

“You have to hurry. Of course, the benefit for me is that I get to watch you run.”

“Ladies aren’t supposed to run.”

“Real y?” He pul ed out his watch fob. “You have exactly two minutes to find it and bring it back here. Ready? Go!”

She lifted her gown, and with the cameras behind her, she ran on the soft grass toward the keep, a crumbled tower in the far northeast corner of the property. The keep had a smal entry, like a cave, and it was very dark, but just inside, atop a stone ledge, was something wrapped in a gold cloth, and she grabbed it, lifted her gown, and ran back, laughing.

“Just in time.” Sebastian wasn’t even looking at his watch. His eyes were on her. He walked toward her and they met in the middle of the green, surrounded by the jagged fortress wal , where they were drenched in sunlight. “Go ahead. Open it.”

Her fingers fumbled in the excitement. It was a packet of painting paper, period-correct oil paints, brushes, and a freshly picked pink cabbage rose. Chloe heard herself say, “How lovely of you. Thank you!” as if she real y were English.

For a moment she felt transported to another place and time and she breathed in the perfume of the rose. How thoughtful of him. But she couldn’t kiss or hug him, so instead, she looked at him as if she had just finished kissing him.

He raised his hands as if to take her in his arms, but let them fal and cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, we real y must get back, or Mrs. Crescent wil give me a chiding.”

“You’re right.” Chloe pressed her paper and paints to her chest.

Sebastian beamed. “I’m glad you like the gift. But, listen. Feel free to come to me, to talk to me if Lady Grace ever crosses the line with you. I’m not sure how much longer I can tolerate her.” He guided them toward the carriage. “I so look forward to seeing you again tonight. It’s refreshing to have someone with intel igence and wit to talk to. And you wil get a laugh when you see who I have to sit next to al night. If only I could sit next to you!”

And with that, they were at the carriage, where Mrs. Crescent checked the time on her chatelaine. Chloe looked back at the ruins, wondering what had just happened. She hadn’t learned a thing about the castle, but she did learn something about Sebastian. He was thoughtful, playful, sexy, attracted to her, and, most importantly, he saw right through Grace. He wasn’t swayed by her good looks, and that pointed to his intel igence. It gave them common ground to be in cahoots against her, too. Sebastian didn’t seem as reserved around Chloe as he did with the others; she had gotten him to loosen his starched cravat, and that was exactly what she had intended to do. He had given her a meaningful gift, yes, but in just a short window of time he had given her something more, much more, and that was the hope that she could desire, and perhaps even love, once again.

F iona washed Chloe’s hair in a washbowl with a sticky mix of rum, eggs, and rose water. Chloe cringed every time her maid poured a pitcher of cold water over her head to rinse her hair. To help get through the ordeal, she thought of Kate, who had accidental y eaten a nut in one of the luncheon dishes, broken out in hives, and had to spend the day with her face covered in a paste of melted lard and crushed brimstone that Henry had whipped up. Brimstone, as in sulfur.

Fiona set out a paper-thin chemise and new stays for Chloe. The stays seemed more like lingerie and Chloe’s breasts showed through the sheer fabric. Mrs. Crescent burst in with Fifi. She set down a fresh washbowl, plunged her hands in, and proceeded to press her hands against Chloe’s thinly covered boobs.

“Aggggh!” The camerawoman had filmed Chloe’s chest and she tumbled back into her dressing table, spil ing the mashed strawberries meant to be her blush. “What are you doing?!”

“What every other right-minded chaperone does to attract the men to her charge. I’m dampening your stays. Now hold stil .”

Chloe shuddered. It was the nineteenth-century equivalent of a wet T-shirt contest.

Fiona pushed the mashed strawberries back into the china bowl.

Mrs. Crescent shook her wet hands at Chloe, sprinkling lavender water on her corset. “When a lady has such assets as yours, Miss Parker, she must take advantage. Many a Regency girl does this.”

“What about the impeccable Miss Gately? Did she dampen her stays?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Crescent said.

“Wel , a lot of good it did her.”