Definitely Not Mr. Darcy

“Thank Napoleon,” he said, watching her play with her soup. “You’re doing a wonderful job of not eating your bouil abaisse. Do you not like it? I can have Mr. Hil take it away and bring you something else. Mr. Hil ? Mr. Hil —”

It was the first time she heard anyone refer to a servant with such respect. Everyone else just cal ed the servants by their last names, without a

“Mr.” or “Miss” attached. “The soup is fine, real y. Thank you.” Chloe strained to keep eye contact with Sebastian even as she kept conversation going with Henry. She had to wonder why Henry was here, although she suspected he was supposed to help his brother scout out the women, and his latest assignment was to get the dish on her. It was obvious. So she thought she’d have some fun with it. It teetered on the edge of impropriety, but it didn’t strike her as against the rules.

“Are you secretly engaged, Mr. Wrightman? Or otherwise spoken for?” Chloe asked.

Henry sputtered into his soup. “No. No, I’m not engaged, and have no prospects at the moment.”

“Real y?” Chloe was surprised. He seemed like the settled type. He didn’t sport a wedding ring, or she might think he was married already.

“I’m taking a bit of a sabbatical from al that.”

“By throwing yourself into a gaggle of eligible women in the middle of the countryside for six weeks?”

“Point wel taken, Miss Parker. But you no doubt realize I’m here to help my brother find a suitable wife. He is ready to marry and settle down.”

“And you, I take it, are not.”

“I’m younger.”

Not by much, Chloe thought. Maybe a year or two.

“My brother doesn’t want to waste his time with anyone he can’t envision as the love of his life. I’m here to help him in any way I can.”

“A great sacrifice on your part.”

“It is.”

She turned to Sebastian. Once or twice he ogled down the table at her, steam rising from his soup bowl.

Sebastian wasn’t very good in groups, Chloe decided. Shy. Darcylike. Stil , she suspected that he wanted to talk to her; he kept looking at her.

But she had to admit, he was looking at the other girls, too, and she didn’t like that. He was so gorgeous that his eyes gave her a rush every time she caught them. Made her hyperaware of everything. By the time the footmen cleared the soup bowls, Chloe determined he might wel be her Mr.

Darcy. When would she get him alone again? How would she possibly get to know him better? She conjured an image of them dancing, turning hand in hand, eyes locked in on each other—

“Partridge or fish, Miss Parker?” Henry asked.

A footman held a silver platter loaded with roasted birds and fish with the heads stil on toward Chloe. A row of dead fish eyes gaped up at her and her stomach churned. She looked at the footman. “Are there any potatoes?” There were always boiled potatoes.

“I’ve been living on potatoes,” she said to Henry.

“Suckling pig and cow tongue doesn’t appeal?” Henry asked. More than anything, the nineteenth-century presentation, where everything came with the head or the feet stil attached, didn’t work for Chloe. She had already lost some weight. She twitched her nose.

The footman nodded. “Just one moment.”

She imagined the footmen and maids must have their own fun and their own pairing-off. She hoped so, anyway. It looked like she would, despite the abundance of food, leave the table without eating much, as was so often the case after a meal here in Regency England.

“I can manage almost anything, but not game birds,” Henry said. His plate had a few fish on it.

“I can’t eat them either,” Chloe said.

“Does it have to do with your passion for birds, Miss Parker?”

How did he know about that? Chloe changed the subject to one of his interests—the frog hatchery. “And no doubt you avoid frog legs.”

Henry smiled. “You’re right.”

“Tel me. Which one of the women are you currently recommending to your brother?”

Henry took a slug of his wine. “You are quite forward, Miss Parker.”

“I’m just curious.” She could see this line of conversation made him a little nervous, but a little intrigued, too. And she wanted to intrigue him—in order to intrigue Sebastian.

“I haven’t recommended anyone yet. I have merely helped him discern some of the ladies’ characters.”

“And what have you discerned about my character?”

Henry refolded his napkin. “It’s a little too early to judge. Although I have my theories.” He smirked.

Chloe raised her eyebrows. Now she was intrigued. Unfortunately, during al this jabbering with Henry, Grace had managed to snare Sebastian into a conversation about hunting. “Oh yes. Last fal was my best season ever,” she heard Sebastian say to Grace. He had picked two partridges clean and stacked the bones alongside a pile of fish bones on his plate.