Definitely Not Mr. Darcy

She pul ed on the reins to turn the horse around. After starting up the street, she took one last peek at Henry, who was running after her in his riding boots. She brought the horse to a canter. She didn’t need Sebastian or Henry or Winthrop or any man. She was going home—home to the twenty-first century, where she would ramp up her letterpress business with Web capability. Ideas on how to bring the business into the modern world tumbled around in her.

She soon realized she was cantering up the wrong side of the road. Once on the left side of the street, she brought the horse into a brisk gal op.

Cars and trucks swerved around her, some drivers honked, others stared, and stil others swore, but she had her plan. She couldn’t wait to put it al into action.

Without looking back, she gal oped out of the only English vil age she’d ever been in, without even a souvenir T-shirt for Abigail that said ENGLAND on it, without having had a pint in the local pub, and without a clue as to what she would do once she got back to Bridesbridge.

Chapter 22

T he headlights from the black English taxicab bounced up the gravel drive in front of Bridesbridge. Its rubber tires made a determined crunching noise in the dark. Chloe had cal ed herself a cab on her dad’s BlackBerry.

George had tried to stop her. “You outed us. You found Mr. Wrightman. Henry wants to grant you the prize money. You earned it.”

She looked down on George from her high horse. The cameras were rol ing. “I don’t want Henry’s money, George. Give it to Mrs. Crescent for Wil iam.”

“You have got to be kidding.”

“I’m not.”

George looked at her as if she were from another planet. And maybe she was. Clearly, George would’ve taken the money. George was al about money. He was a cad, just like the rest of them. Probably sleeping with his assistant while his wife and kids were in London.

“You can’t leave like this.”

“I can.”

“You have to take the money. Those are the rules. We’re going to have it sent to you. We can’t keep it.”

“If those are the rules, then make sure Wil iam gets the best treatment he can with the money, and I’l consider taking what’s left over. If I end up using any of it, I’l pay it back within the year. With interest.”

“We won’t take it.”

“Then I’l make a donation—to the National Trust. To the Chawton House Library!” It felt so good to be free of the lure of the money, to final y see how her business could be propel ed into the future without a rescue from anyone or anything but herself.

Chloe sat on the steps of Bridesbridge Place in the new blue jeans her mom brought from the States, and checked her e-mail. She had 4,623

unread e-mails. She stood when the cabbie stepped out.

“’El o, there.” The young cabbie loaded her carry-on and suitcase into the trunk.

The double doors to Bridesbridge Place swung open behind her. “Miss Parker—Chloe—wait!” Mrs. Crescent, dressed in her real clothes now, too, looked—almost hip. Her baby slept in a carrier strapped to her chest. Chloe curtsied out of sheer instinct, then laughed and hugged Mrs.

Crescent and the baby.

“I’m going to miss you—both.” Chloe kissed baby Jemma on the head.

Mrs. Crescent put her arm around Chloe. “Please don’t go. Stay just for tonight. After al , you won! You figured it al out! And you real y don’t want to forfeit the prize money, do you?”

“I’m just happy that Wil iam has enough money to get his operation. As for me, I have a few irons in the fire. What I learned here, in these few weeks, is worth more than any prize. I have a real life. In the present. And there’s no time like now to start living it.”

“Please join us. We’re having a farewel party on the veranda at Dartworth Hal .” She eyed Chloe up and down. “You do look fabulous.”

“So do you.”

“I don’t think this whole thing has changed me as much as it has you. Anyway, you and your parents must come.”

Chloe took in Bridesbridge for the last time. “My parents are too busy sucking up to Lady Anne right now—”

The cabbie interrupted. “I’m afraid you’re on the ticker, miss.”

“Don’t cal me ‘miss’—please.”

He almost dropped his cigarette. She hadn’t seen a cigarette in weeks.

“Be there in a minute.” She turned back to Mrs. Crescent. “Did you know that Lady Anne is real y Henry’s mother!”

“And she absolutely adores you. I didn’t know anything. None of us did. Only Lady Anne, Sebastian, Henry, and of course George. But, Chloe, you must realize that Henry’s world is ful of phony people. Girls that just want his money. His title. With George’s help, he created this game to find a woman who could love him for who he is.”

Chloe got a lump in her throat. She headed into the cloud of cigarette smoke the cabbie just exhaled. She tried not to breathe in. “I have to go, Mrs. Crescent. I’l e-mail you. I have your address.”

“But you hate e-mail.”

“Not anymore.” Chloe flashed the BlackBerry with a smile. “I can’t wait to buy one of these for myself! Here, you can give this back to my dad for me.”