Definitely Not Mr. Darcy

Chloe made a mental note to come down earlier in the mornings and score some butter. Writing those letters to Abigail and the woman she now knew was Sebastian’s and Henry’s mother with quil had taken longer than she anticipated and the ink stained her fingers. Of course, she’d left her soap behind at the pond, and she only had room-temperature water to wash with.

Julia, who sat next to her at the table, was bouncing her knee up and down. She seemed an unlikely girl to dress in a gown, though the cap sleeves did show off her biceps. Even her hol ow cheeks had muscles that were visible when she chewed.

Grace yawned. “I certainly hope we won’t be painting another landscape—outside, of al places.”

Chloe held back a laugh.

The butler cleared his throat. “In preparation for the upcoming archery tournament and the bal , you wil be split into two groups to facilitate rotation between the dance mistress and the archery range. One group wil consist of three women, and the other group wil have four. Your chaperones wil join you. But, to graduate from one activity to the next, you must meet certain prerequisites. If you start with archery, you must shoot three bul ’s-eyes in a row to progress to dancing. If you start with dancing, you must successful y complete a dance selected by our dance mistress.”

Chloe thril ed at the thought of archery and Regency dancing al in one day, for so many reasons, including getting to wear two other gowns in addition to the day dress she had on. Maybe at some point during al this, she’d get to official y meet Sebastian. She didn’t even care to drink any more watery tea she was so anxious.

“You’l love them both,” Julia said to her.

“Love both of what?” Chloe asked.

Grace dropped her knife on her plate with a din.

“Dancing and archery. They’re both real y great exercise.”

The butler smiled for the cameras. “And—I have a letter from Mr. Wrightman.” He paused so the cameras could pan the table for the women’s reactions. Chloe might not have had butter for her bread, but the drama was spread on pretty thick, that was for sure.

The butler lifted a creamy envelope from a silver salver and broke the red wax seal with a dramatic flourish. Chloe was, however, suitably impressed with the envelope and picked it up to examine it after he set it on the table. It too had been sealed with a red wax W, now broken in half.

Fingering the seal, she wondered who might be behind details like this.

Inside her writing desk she had discovered historical y correct drawing paper, charcoal, and paints. Did George think of it? Someone on the production crew? Set design? She found the attention to such details enchanting and figured it would have to be a woman or a gay guy. Unless Sebastian himself was responsible. After al , he made the effort to work out as if he were living in the nineteenth century.

“Most likely the invitation wil be for you,” Julia said to Chloe. “You’re the newest girl, and he probably wants to get to know you.”

Chloe raised her eyebrows . . . and her hopes.

The butler unfolded the letter. “Dear—Lady Grace.” He stopped for a moment while the tableful of women did their Regency best not to react too emotional y one way or the other, but a general sigh was audible. Chloe hadn’t prepared herself for the sting of rejection, but then again, Sebastian hadn’t even real y met her yet.

“Oh,” Julia said.

Kate sneezed.

Grace dabbed the corners of her mouth with a cloth napkin, drawing attention to her Botoxy smile. Grace, though very attractive, was definitely not twenty-one. Stil , she didn’t look like she was facing the big four-O yet either.

The butler continued. “‘Would you, Lady Grace, be inclined to accompany me on a horseback outing this afternoon? Please leave word with my footman. I wil be at Bridesbridge at three o’clock to col ect you if you are so kind as to accept. Sincerely, Mr. Wrightman.’”

When it was put that way, so eloquently, on paper, Chloe felt a twinge of—jealousy. And not just because of the prize money.

The other women whispered among themselves.

“Tel the footman I accept, of course,” Grace said.

The butler folded the letter before he spoke. “Aside from her ladyship’s obvious charms, winning this invitation may have something to do with her high number of Accomplishment Points.” He looked down at Chloe. “And Mr. Wrightman’s choice may have been influenced by some . . .

peccadil oes of others in the party.”

Chloe remained stoic.

Gil ian stood and put a hand on her hip. “I have two hundred and ten Accomplishment Points. I’m sure I’m due for another outing with Mr.

Wrightman, too.”

But what real y set the room atwitter was the butler’s announcement that Mr. Wrightman and his brother, Henry, would be practicing their fencing on the east lawn.

“First dibs on the telescope!” Chloe heard Gil ian say amid the din.