Definitely Not Mr. Darcy

“Lady Grace, wil you accept this invitation?” Sebastian asked in an almost singsong voice.

“Of course.” Grace slid the invitation from his hand, eyed him up and down, then curtsied.

He bowed and watched her butt as she walked back.

Chloe cringed. She blocked out any thoughts of Sebastian and Grace hooking up; the possibility made her nauseous.

Grace took her spot next to Chloe, pressing the invitation to her chest.

“Miss Tripp.”

Of course he chose Julia, Chloe thought. Who wouldn’t? Lithe, enthusiastic Julia deserved to stay on. Plus, she didn’t have a scandal, real or imagined, attached to her name. Chloe looked straight at Sebastian now and rose on tiptoe in her satin slippers, on the edge of the carpet, on the edge of everything.

The butler lunged in front of Sebastian. “Ladies, before Mr. Wrightman presents the final invitation, it has been determined that, for hosting the hunt tea, Miss Parker wil gain only ten of the fifteen Accomplishment Points, due to unladylike behavior. The reticule inspection adds five points to everyone’s score except hers. Nevertheless, Miss Parker currently leads with a score of forty points, Miss Tripp with thirty-five, and the rest of the women are tied at thirty points each. Consider careful y, Mr. Wrightman, the behavior you’ve witnessed tonight. I can assure you that the ratings online indicate that Miss Tripp is the favored contestant, and in choosing her to stay on, you have chosen wisely.”

The butler turned toward the women. “Mr. Wrightman wil now present the final invitation. Two of you wil be sent home tonight. Mr. Wrightman, if you please.”

Chloe, Gil ian, and Kate took a step forward together. Chloe could feel the beads of sweat running down her back and in the sour taste that fil ed her mouth, even though she’d brushed with her swine’s-hair toothbrush and chalky powder less than an hour ago.

“Miss Harrington . . .” Sebastian said.

Kate practical y skipped up to him. Chloe’s neck went limp and her chin hit her chest. Of course it was Kate, who, despite her al ergies, seemed rather sweet. Chloe had blown it. As recently as a few days ago, she might not have cared so much, but at the moment she felt completely devastated.

“. . . and Miss Potts.”

Chloe was confused. There was only one invitation.

Sebastian took Kate’s and Gil ian’s hands in his own. “You both are wonderful, amazing women, and you wil find someone who deserves you.

But I’m afraid I must ask you to take your leave of Bridesbridge Place.”

Chloe lifted her chin. On their way back to their spots, Gil ian sneered at Chloe and Kate looked dumbfounded.

Sebastian picked up the last invitation from the silver salver. “Miss Parker . . .” He extended the invitation toward her.

Chloe’s shoulders slumped with relief. He got it, she realized. He got her. Maybe he even believed her story about the condom, and about her lack of feelings for Henry. She stumbled, but didn’t fal on the edge of the carpet. Behind her, as she padded toward Sebastian, she could hear Kate blowing her nose.

Sebastian looked down on her with a half smile. “Miss Parker, wil you accept this invitation to stay on?”

“I do.” Chloe took the envelope. The heft of the handmade paper in her hand felt good and right. “I—I mean I wil !” She laughed. He crinkled his nose, and remembering both her bad breath and nineteenth-century protocol, she fumbled a curtsy as she breathed out of her nose. He bowed. As much as she wanted to talk to Sebastian, to stay with him, she forced herself to turn and walk back to her spot. It was enough to know that he trusted her. Now that the trust was there, they could build on it—spires into the sky.

“Ladies,” said the butler. “Mr. Wrightman has made his decision. You may say your good-byes.”

This time, the good-byes were not as difficult for Chloe. Imogene had been her closest friend here, and she was gone. Gil ian and Kate, by comparison, were easy to let go.

“Miss Potts, Miss Harrington, your carriage is waiting,” said the butler.

Sebastian turned to Chloe, Grace, and Julia. “Good night, ladies. I look forward to our next encounter.” With that, he escorted Gil ian and Kate out the door.

Outside the sash windows, the afternoon sun was fading fast and maids began to scurry around inside to light the candles while footmen lit the torches outside. Grace sat down at the pianoforte and pounded out an English reel. A maid set a candelabrum on the piano and lit it.

Mrs. Crescent waddled over to Chloe, fanning herself from face to pregnant bel y. The white ruffles of her cap wagged right along with Fifi’s tail. “I don’t know how you managed it.” She squeezed Chloe’s hand.

She’d managed it by sacrificing Henry, and already she began concocting ways to rectify that situation. He, and his good opinion of her, meant more to her than she had thought, and it made the victory bittersweet.

The carriage pul ed away from the house, lumbering toward the road.

“Whatever could be wrong?” Mrs. Crescent asked.

“I’m missing—a friend,” Chloe said.

“Miss Wel s? She was never your friend,” Mrs. Crescent whispered.

That wasn’t who she’d been thinking of. Wait a minute. “She wasn’t?”

Mrs. Crescent shook her head. “We’re not here to make friends. Nobody’s here to make friends. Nobody here is your friend! It’s not about friendship; we’re here to win. And we’re on our way. Wel done! Let’s go. We have needlework to do.” She nodded toward the hal .