Definitely Not Mr. Darcy

“Miss Parker! Miss Parker!” Mrs. Crescent cal ed from outside the hedge maze. “Save my baby Fifi! Hurry! Before he gets hurt! Oh, Mr.

Wrightman—thank goodness you’re here!”

Sebastian? Great. He was supposed to be chasing her through the maze, and here she was chasing a droopy-eyed pug. She heard more growling and shuffling.

“Fifi! Fifi!” Chloe found herself bumping into dead end after dead end as larger and larger raindrops began to fal faster and faster.

“Yip! Yip!” Fifi yelped, and Chloe spun, sprinted, took a sharp turn in the hedge, and barreled right into—Mr. Wrightman—the younger, the penniless.

“I’ve been meaning to run into you,” he quipped, offering her a hand to steady her. “But not quite like this.”

That sounded like something she would say, or did say, to Sebastian.

The rain was fal ing even harder now.

“Listen, I’l get the dog. You head back,” Henry said.

“Yip! Yip!” Fifi yelped again, and Henry marched off.

But Chloe couldn’t leave Fifi. She clambered behind with a broken shoelace and her flimsy boots soaked through. Deep into the maze, she final y caught up to Henry and watched him throw his jacket on a tangle of pug and weasel and somehow magical y extract the dog from the pile. He tucked Fifi under his arm like a footbal while ribbons of blood and mud trickled down the dog’s back. Fifi was yipping and crying.

Chloe felt as if the seams of her corset were showing through her white dress. Her gown clung to her legs, revealing her garters at midthigh.

Henry’s eyes roamed from her face to her neck, her breasts, her legs—then he turned to head back. “Fol ow me for the way out,” he said in the pouring rain as he led the way. “If you lose sight of me, keep your left hand on the hedge. I’ve got to hurry and get the dog cleaned and bandaged before infection sets in. He’s covered in mud.”

Henry didn’t know her lace was broken. As she fol owed him, her cameraman fol owed her, rain running down her face, over her lip, and into her mouth, tasting sweet and salty at the same time. The sky flashed lightning.

In a matter of moments she lost sight of Henry and could no longer hear his boots crunching in the gravel. She placed her wet glove on the hedge to her left. Fog was rol ing in among the hedgerows, and al at once the vivid green hedges seemed grayer, tal er, woodier. What kind of mother would let herself get lost in a hedge maze in the middle of nowhere in England, during a thunderstorm?

“Hand on the left. Hand on the left.”

Rain dripped down from her fingertips to her elbow as if she were a human gutter. She felt as if she’d been in this very spot five minutes ago. Did she just make a big circle? It occurred to her what a bril iant invention the GPS was, and she determined that as soon as she got home and could afford it, she’d buy one, because she hated being lost and alone. But, as it turned out, she wasn’t alone.

She turned and looked right at the cameraman. “Al right. How do we get out of here?”

He didn’t respond, he just kept filming.

“You don’t have to say anything. Just lead the way. I’l fol ow you.”

He stayed put.

“Ugh!” Exasperated, Chloe threw her arms up.

Thunder rumbled and the hedges seemed to grow tal er. Left hand. Left hand against the hedge, she reminded herself. Her gloves went translucent on her fingers. Tufts of fog blew through the hedgerows, obscuring the path. She kept bumping into the same dead end over and over.

When the rain began to let up, she stopped shivering. Her hair had gone wild and windblown around her shoulders and the bottom of her white gown was brown with mud.

Final y, she saw an opening in the distance. It was the exit! She did it. She’d made it! Al by herself. Something moved toward her, ran toward her in the fog. It was Sebastian come to save her, a little too late, unfortunately. She shook off the disappointment, but not the cold and rain.

“Miss Parker! Are you al right?” Sebastian cal ed out.

“I think so, Colonel Brandon,” she replied.

He smiled at the Austen reference and opened his arms to her. Did he forget he couldn’t touch her? She was too cold and wet to care about protocol or the camera. He held out his arms to her and she had no resistance left. She buried her head in his wet, white ruffled shirt, taking in his wine-barrel, snufflike aroma. He, too, had been soaked through and his body felt chil ed.

“I think we make a pretty cool couple.” She shivered and whispered in his ear, alone with him at last.

Sebastian didn’t have an umbrel a or a coat to offer her, but in an instant he swooped her up in his arms.

She locked her arms around his strong neck, and he carried her toward Dartworth Hal . Now, where were al the cameras when she needed them?

“You are Colonel Brandon after al ,” Chloe said.

Sebastian smiled while his Hessian boots trudged on. He seemed an enigma to her, but the scent of spongy grass fil ed the air and being in his arms made her feel safe and taken care of.

His dark eyes looked straight ahead at the doors of the hal , his nostrils flared slightly. The rain had stopped, but it had made him slick back his black hair, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower. His cheekbones were so chiseled a girl could go rock-climbing on them. The moment was right out of a movie, until he lost his footing,