Definitely Not Mr. Darcy

She had thought, long and hard, about going home and dealing with this latest stunt of Winthrop’s. Was there anything she could possibly do before the hearing? That was the biggest question she had for her lawyer. Because if there were, she’d be on a plane tonight.

As the sun came out, George appeared on his ATV, and one of the crew unlocked the gates, setting her free from her thoughts.

George granted the cal , Chloe got in touch with her lawyer, and no, nothing could be done until the hearing. Her lawyer advised her to stay on in England and make the best of it. That twenty-minute conversation alone would cost her $350.

As she headed toward the carriage, her head hanging, a glint of silver in the distance caught her eye through the trees, near the hitch post. It was a silver stirrup shining in the sun.

S ebastian cut a dashing figure on a horse. Unfortunately he was surrounded by a pack of barking dogs and two cameramen.

“Miss Parker!” He tipped his hat and waved it.

Mrs. Crescent stirred in the carriage. “Go ahead, go ahead.” She waved Chloe on toward Sebastian. “Just stay in my line of sight. And we wil be making that ink today!”

Chloe turned to walk toward Sebastian, but the dogs—foxhounds—spun and barreled toward her! She froze, Sebastian whistled, and the dogs circled back toward him. He dismounted. His face had tanned in the sun, and as he walked his white horse toward her, she wanted her camera to capture the moment. The tal grasses seemed to part for him as he walked toward her in his boots, riding crop tucked under his arm. His biceps

bulged even under the riding coat. The dogs, panting and tired, lumbered behind. One of the cameramen focused on Sebastian, the other turned his camera toward Chloe.

Sebastian bowed.

Chloe curtsied. She stepped back from the whimpering hounds because she didn’t like hound dogs any more than she liked pugs.

“Don’t worry. I’ve cal ed them off.” He stood so close to her she could almost reach out and touch his designer stubble. “Henry tel s me he thinks you’ve gotten some bad news from home. Is everything quite al right? Why are you out here by the gates? Not trying to escape, I hope.”

Chloe clasped her shaky gloved hands in front of her. “No. I’m doing my best to stay!”

“Good. Good.” He sighed at the cameramen.

There wasn’t much hope for a meaningful conversation.

“The best way to guarantee your stay, Miss Parker, is to dedicate yourself to preparing for the foxhunt. It’s a chal enging task, but one I’m sure you’re equal to. Do you have a sense of adventure?”

“Adventure? I’m al about adventure!” Chloe shot a look at the dogs out of the corner of her eye.

In his Hessian boots, he stepped even closer to her now, blocked the camera for a moment, and slid a note into her hand. She understood to hide it in her reticule.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “I would want a wife who enjoys adventure and games—a certain element of playfulness and fun. I think you have those qualities and so much more.”

Chloe couldn’t believe he’d said al this while surrounded by cameras and—dogs. Nor could she believe that he had slipped a piece of folded paper into her hands, unbeknownst to the cameramen.

A clipped bow, a tip of his hat, a bucking up of his horse, and he was gone, just as suddenly as he had appeared, his coattails flying in the wind and the pack of dogs hot on his trail.

When at last she closed her bedchamber door under the pretense of having to use the chamber pot, Chloe ceremoniously unfolded the note he had given her. The handwriting was old-fashioned, ornamental, and organized in stanzas. He had written her a poem! At thirty-nine years old, Chloe read the first love poem ever written for her:

As the sun shines high in the sky

Love blooms in my heart, I cannot lie.

To let our love grow

Is what is want, I know.

Still I cannot be convinced

Nay, I need more evidence

Of your intentions, are they true?

To convince me here is what you need to do:

As the clock strikes two you must find

Something in a garden where light and shadow are intertwined

Inspect the face in the garden bright

Then follow the line of light

Straight to a house without walls

Enter the door and go where the water falls

Extrapolate from this poem the puzzle within

Make a note of the six-word answer, write it, and you will win

Send your missive through the secret door and the answers you seek will