Definitely Not Mr. Darcy

He lifted his hat and bowed his head of slightly unruly black hair. He had dark eyes and broad shoulders in the wel -tailored riding coat, and he had to be the man she saw working out with the logs in the field. “Pity we haven’t met formal y, Miss Parker, or we’d be free to converse. And I could, perhaps, escort you out of the water.”

How did he know her name? Her stockings floated in the breeze and her ability to speak simply floated away.

“I have been most anxiously awaiting your arrival, and now I can see why.”

She flinched.

“Not to worry. I won’t report this infraction. Not yet, anyway. Luckily, I gave my cameraman the slip for the moment. You’re on Dartworth property unchaperoned, you know. You’d be asked to leave. And I wouldn’t want that, I can tel you.” He moved toward the pond’s edge, the dogs panting at his side.

She didn’t think the pond could be on Dartworth land! She had to get out of here. Then it occurred to her that she was alone in the woods with a man she didn’t know, her stockings hanging in a nearby tree.

“Just who are you?” Chloe asked.

“Don’t you know who I am?” He laughed.

Now, that was pretty egomaniacal even if he was gorgeous.

He shaded his eyes with his hand and tried to get a better look at her. This was the guy from the field, from the bathtub. She could see that now.

She stepped back. Maybe this was a trap. A man wasn’t supposed to see a woman’s bare legs or ankles until after marriage. Chloe’s ankles were wel hidden under the water, and she decided not to move until he left.

But he just kept staring at her as if she were the only woman left in the world, and it made her—uncomfortable.

“Since we haven’t been properly introduced, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” she said.

He cocked his head, stepped off the boulder, and a look of hurt came over his face. She instantly regretted the remark, but had to play by the rules, especial y since she had already accidental y broken one of them. He mounted his horse, tipped his hat. “Good day, Miss Parker.” She curtsied. And he gal oped off, his horse’s tail twitching, his dogs bounding after him.

Whoever he was, he’d probably report her infraction and she’d be on the next flight home. As she trudged toward the bank, a strange noise came from behind. She whipped around. A group of frogs was croaking on the opposite side of the pond, their throats puffing with air. Something slithered around her ankle. She fumbled up the embankment and scrambled toward her linen towel. As quickly as she could with a linen towel, she dried off her legs and feet. The sound of hooves pounded around the far edge of the pond. Flickerings of a man on horseback appeared through the trees. He’d come back! She rol ed down her pantalets and reached for her stockings.

Chloe turned to say something—anything—to him. But . . . it wasn’t him. It was Mr. Wrightman, who dismounted his black horse even as it was moving.

She didn’t think his appearance was mere coincidence. Her every move was probably tracked on a GPS chip in her microphone pack. She slid into her stockings and fumbled with the ribbons. Final y, she tied them off, though they were much slouchier than when Fiona had done them.

He took off his hat and bowed. “And here I was hoping you’d emerge from the pond in a wet shirt.”

Despite herself, Chloe laughed at the Colin Firth Pride and Prejudice reference, but she kept herself from saying anything out of character and determined to get back on Bridesbridge property right away. She hurriedly pul ed on her shoes.

“I suppose you weren’t swimming. You were—trimming your bonnet? Do you want to be asked to leave?”

“No! I love Bridesbridge. It was—the chamber pot. And the one-bath-a-week thing. I’m over it now. I’ve got to get back to Bridesbridge.” She yanked on her gloves.

“Just now, when I saw Sebastian, and he told me you were here at the frog hatchery, I—”

“His name is Sebastian? And this is a frog hatchery?” She’d washed off in a frog hatchery?!

“It’s one of my conservation projects. A mere two hundred years from now, in the twenty-first century, more than half of the global amphibian population wil face extinction.”

He was spewing factoids at a time like this? She plopped the bonnet on her head and spun toward the pond, seeing now, for the first time, just how many frogs were scampering around. Her soap had disappeared. She eyed the boulder where the dark-haired so-cal ed Sebastian had appeared with his dogs and horse, but she didn’t dare ask about him. No doubt Mr. Wrightman would find it al very improper.

He grabbed her fan and parasol and handed them to her.

His gal antry surprised her. She scampered toward the footpath, looking back as she spoke. “I’m much obliged to you, Mr. Wrightman, for helping in the preservation of the Miss Parker species.”

“My pleasure. It’s a specimen we real y wouldn’t want to lose.” He untied his horse and caught up with her.