Definitely Not Mr. Darcy

Afraid she hadn’t practiced enough, she mounted Chestnut with a show of bravado because horses, like dogs, sensed fear, and she had to be strong. She hardly recognized her shadow, cast on the fine gravel in front of the stable. It exuded confidence, from the tip of her riding hat with a ribbon underneath to her tight jacket, long riding habit skirts and crop tucked under her arm. The sun glistened on the Kel y-green hil s, the hounds barked and horses mil ed about in the field, and—the stable stench snapped her back to reality. Where was Sebastian?

Her hands quivered as the footman careful y strapped the sidesaddle belt across her lap. Her skirt seemed the size of a circus tent and she tucked in the heavy folds.

Grace trotted up on horseback. “Your skirt does look more unwieldy than mine,” she said.

The cameras weren’t on them. “Thank you for that bril iant observation,” Chloe said.

“Perhaps the seamstress made a mistake on yours. You’d best not flash any leg while riding. That would be an infringement of the rules.”

“And flashing a breast isn’t?”

“That was an accident, Miss Parker.”

“I’l say. I can only hope there won’t be any accidents today.” Chestnut started sniffing Grace’s horse’s behind. Chloe tugged at the reins, urging him to turn, and he would obey for a minute then turn his head again to sniff.

“I’ve spoken to Mr. Henry Wrightman about fixing your tiara. I would delight in undertaking a little project like that with him.”

Chloe flinched. Now she was after Henry, too? “I’d prefer the jeweler it came from, Tiffany’s, to do the fixing.”

Grace seemed insulted. “I had very little to do with your tiara breaking, whilst you had everything to do with al of our Accomplishment Points getting wiped out. We worked weeks to acquire those points and making ink isn’t exactly my forte.”

“I’m sure it’s not.”

Grace kicked her horse and it trotted off—she was an expert rider. Chloe patted her horse’s neck.

The master of the hunt, a red-faced man with a brass hunting horn tucked under his arm, headed over to Chloe. He took off his top hat and bowed toward her and the cameras.

“Our hunt awaits you, Miss Parker. Need I remind you that should you choose not to ride, you must go from whence you came?”

Chloe tapped the riding crop in the palm of her hand. The image of her whipping him with the riding crop flashed through her mind. “I do thank you for that gentle reminder,” she said.

“Mr. Wrightman is quite keen on riding, and whatever woman he chooses should love to ride as wel .”

“Sir, I ful y intend to ride. But might I ride western style?” she asked, trying to sound as 1812-ish as possible.

“I’m afraid not. Only a lady of title may choose to ride astride.”

The footman led Chestnut toward the field where the rest of the riding party waited. The horse took steady, solid steps. Stil , even this hunky footman couldn’t hold a cheap tal ow candle to Sebastian, who appeared on the field like the sun bursting from behind a cloud. There was something about a man on horseback—especial y such a cultured, Oxford-educated man who also happened to be, wel , a total hottie, as Emma would say.

She pictured herself and Sebastian in a white carriage festooned with pink peonies, pul ed by white horses, riding off into the sunset together, he reciting poetry and—

Just then the hounds howled and Grace’s gray horse sidestepped away from Henry’s and toward Sebastian’s. The tail on her horse whisked back and forth, brushing Sebastian’s as if in shameless flirtation, as if even her horse were moving in on the guy.

Henry trotted over on his horse, and glad as she was to see him, he blocked her view of Sebastian.

“Wil you manage, Miss Parker?” he asked.

What struck her was that he’d picked up on her fear.

“You have the gentlest horse in the stables.”

“Let’s hope he’s not too gentle, I’l need some speed.” She moved Chestnut backward to keep an eye on Sebastian, but Henry guided his horse closer, eclipsing Sebastian again.

“Just because he’s gentle doesn’t mean he’s not powerful and fast,” Henry said.

Chloe raised an eyebrow. “We’l have to see, then, what he’s made of.”

“I think you’l be quite pleased with his performance.” Henry smiled.

Chloe wasn’t quite sure they were sparring about Chestnut anymore, but she knew Grace was monopolizing Sebastian. Gil ian, Kate, and Julia waited at the starting gate, doing the smart thing and resting their horses.

Chloe brought Chestnut forward again and stopped in ful view of Sebastian. She waved good-bye to the footman, who, embarrassed, nodded awkwardly. She wasn’t supposed to wave to the servants, and Henry chuckled.

“Just take it easy during the hunt, Miss Parker.”

“Are you saying you don’t want me to win? That ultimately you’d prefer your brother to end up with, let’s say, Lady Grace, so you could spend al your holidays and birthdays with her?”