Definitely Not Mr. Darcy

In Chloe’s imagination, Sebastian would see her innocence on al fronts, fling two invitations into the fireplace, waltz right up to her, and present her with the remaining envelope. “It’s you,” he would declare. “It’s always been you. Take this invitation. Take me! ” He would sweep her up off her feet and—But that wasn’t going to happen. Not by a long shot.

Instead Sebastian cleared his throat. “Let me begin by saying . . .” He paused for the camera and lifted one of the invitations. “This was one of the most difficult decisions I’ve ever had to make.” He shifted from one side to the other in his Hessian boots. “You are al very attractive women, with equal y—interesting personalities.” He looked right at Chloe.

Zing. Chloe felt that one. Interesting was never good in guy language, whether Regency or contemporary. She also became acutely aware of her pungent body odor. That was what no showers, horseback riding, and sweating bul ets at tea-party debacles did to a girl.

Sebastian looked down at the invitation in his hand, his long, thick eyelashes practical y brushing against his aristocratic cheekbones. The room was completely stil , the flames of the fire providing the only semblance of movement, and it was so quiet you could hear a nineteenth-century needle drop. He looked up. “Lady Grace.”

Voom. One video cam swung to shoot Grace sauntering up to Sebastian while another recorded the expressions on the other girls’ faces.

Chloe clenched her gloved fists. In the corner of the room, her sewing box sat unlatched, the fireplace screen she had only just started seeming to mock her. She would leave so much unfinished here if she had to go now. It wasn’t just about the money anymore, she realized that. She was wil ing to gamble it al —her business, her precious time with Abigail, and even her friendship with Henry—for this, for Sebastian, and al the possibility of him. His quiet dignity, his perseverance throughout this process, his romantic gestures with riddles and silhouettes and packages wrapped in gold in a castle keep.

“Lady Grace, wil you accept this invitation?” Sebastian asked in an almost singsong voice.

“Of course.” Grace slid the invitation from his hand, eyed him up and down, then curtsied.

He bowed and watched her butt as she walked back.

Chloe cringed. She blocked out any thoughts of Sebastian and Grace hooking up; the possibility made her nauseous.

Grace took her spot next to Chloe, pressing the invitation to her chest.

“Miss Tripp.”

Of course he chose Julia, Chloe thought. Who wouldn’t? Lithe, enthusiastic Julia deserved to stay on. Plus, she didn’t have a scandal, real or imagined, attached to her name. Chloe looked straight at Sebastian now and rose on tiptoe in her satin slippers, on the edge of the carpet, on the edge of everything.

The butler lunged in front of Sebastian. “Ladies, before Mr. Wrightman presents the final invitation, it has been determined that, for hosting the hunt tea, Miss Parker wil gain only ten of the fifteen Accomplishment Points, due to unladylike behavior. The reticule inspection adds five points to everyone’s score except hers. Nevertheless, Miss Parker currently leads with a score of forty points, Miss Tripp with thirty-five, and the rest of the women are tied at thirty points each. Consider careful y, Mr. Wrightman, the behavior you’ve witnessed tonight. I can assure you that the ratings online indicate that Miss Tripp is the favored contestant, and in choosing her to stay on, you have chosen wisely.”

The butler turned toward the women. “Mr. Wrightman wil now present the final invitation. Two of you wil be sent home tonight. Mr. Wrightman, if you please.”

Chloe, Gil ian, and Kate took a step forward together. Chloe could feel the beads of sweat running down her back and in the sour taste that fil ed her mouth, even though she’d brushed with her swine’s-hair toothbrush and chalky powder less than an hour ago.

“Miss Harrington . . .” Sebastian said.

Kate practical y skipped up to him. Chloe’s neck went limp and her chin hit her chest. Of course it was Kate, who, despite her al ergies, seemed rather sweet. Chloe had blown it. As recently as a few days ago, she might not have cared so much, but at the moment she felt completely devastated.

“. . . and Miss Potts.”

Chloe was confused. There was only one invitation.

Sebastian took Kate’s and Gil ian’s hands in his own. “You both are wonderful, amazing women, and you wil find someone who deserves you.

But I’m afraid I must ask you to take your leave of Bridesbridge Place.”

Chloe lifted her chin. On their way back to their spots, Gil ian sneered at Chloe and Kate looked dumbfounded.

Sebastian picked up the last invitation from the silver salver. “Miss Parker . . .” He extended the invitation toward her.