Definitely Not Mr. Darcy

Why always Henry? Why didn’t she run into Sebastian more often? Henry was holding binoculars in his hands, and was focusing on the bird. She thought Sebastian was the bird-watcher—but then again they were brothers, and brothers that seemed to share the same pursuits. Perhaps they even shared the same taste in women? Another twig crunched underneath her boot. Henry heard it, put the binoculars down, and saw her. His horse stepped backward, as if even he sensed the surprise and awkwardness. They shouldn’t be together unchaperoned.

“Miss Parker.” His horse advanced. “I didn’t expect—”

The bird laughed again and they both looked up. Chloe didn’t want to risk being caught alone with Henry; she needed time alone with Sebastian.

Even the damn bird was laughing at her hard luck.

“It’s a green woodpecker,” Henry said. “They love this grove. The trees here are more than three hundred years old. This one is six.” He pointed to a tree with his riding crop. “Green woodpecker cal s always sound like laughter. It’s unnerving.”

Chloe’s father used to take her bird-watching when she was little, and the quirky hobby had stuck. She admired men who appreciated nature, but there would always be something special for her about an ornithologist.

Henry dismounted, tied his horse to a younger tree, and walked toward her, offering the bronze binoculars.

“I—I real y need to go back,” Chloe said.

The woodpecker started cal ing again. “Have a look.” He handed her the binoculars. “I was just on my way to check up on you, but considering you’re out scrambling in the woods without a chaperone, I trust you’re feeling better.”

She stepped backward without taking the binoculars. “I’m feeling fine. But I never did get those ‘spirits’ you prescribed.”

Henry laughed. “Then I’l prescribe some more.”

“And I didn’t sleep very wel because there are mice in my bedchamber.”

Henry rubbed his chin thoughtful y.

Chloe curtsied. “If you’l excuse me, I’l see you—at the archery meet?”

“You’re going to walk away from a green woodpecker? To my knowledge, you don’t have them in America.” He offered her the binoculars again.

The woodpecker stopped cal ing.

“I don’t think it’s proper.”

“I’m amazed, and impressed, at how loyal you are to a man you haven’t even real y gotten to know yet.”

She squirmed, as if she were again under Henry’s mental microscope.

“Here.” He stretched the binoculars in front of her eyes and slid behind her. His buttons grazed the smal of her back. With his arms brushed up against hers, he adjusted the focus for her. “Do you see him?”

She saw a lot of things, including the fact that she liked Henry a lot more than a girl was supposed to like a potential brother-in-law. “Yes. He’s—

he’s beautiful.” She watched the woodpecker as he turned his green head topped with red feathers, and she handed the binoculars back. Her eyes fel to the forest floor littered with leaves. “Thank you. The most common woodpecker back home is the downy woodpecker. He has red plumage on the back of his neck. He’s much smal er, though.”

She smoothed down her overdress. Mrs. Crescent had told her that a lady must never reveal her ful intel igence to a man, and this she found exasperating. She stepped into the breezy clearing, and away from him. Anyone could see them here. She had to get away, but didn’t want to leave.

He moved toward her. “By the way, would you like me to fix your tiara? I’m afraid, though, it’s too late to repair it before the bal .”

It was enough to stop her for a moment longer. She had to think about this one.

“I can come by later to look at it. I’l be able to tel you if I can fix it as wel as any jeweler would.” He pul ed an apple out of his pocket and shined it on his coat.

Chloe licked her lips at the sight of the apple. A breeze wafted through the trees and the dappled light flitted around them like sparkles from a disco bal .

She had to get out of here. “Yes, that’s fine,” she said absentmindedly. “I—I need to head back.”

“Absolutely. I would escort you—but . . . we shouldn’t be together.” Henry bowed and fed the apple to his horse.

The horse crunched on the fruit. Chloe was ravenous, especial y for fruit. She’d slept right through the mutton dinner last night.

Henry raised his eyebrows. “Unless you’d like me to escort you back to Bridesbridge after al ?”

“No, thank you. But might I ask if you have any more of those apples?”

A shaft of sunlight came down on him through the trees. “You do realize how bad they are for your complexion, right?”

She smiled. “I’m wil ing to take that chance.”

“I don’t have any more, but the one my horse is eating was barely fit for consumption, human or equine. If you want fruit, I have something better.”

He smirked.

Chloe folded her arms. “I’m sure you do. But that’s not what I had in mind.” She curtsied and turned to go. Much as she enjoyed the repartee with Henry, she needed to be bantering with Sebastian instead.

“I’m talking about the fruit growing at the Wrightman hothouse.”