Definitely Not Mr. Darcy (35 page)

“Hmm,” she said out loud. “I—I mean, hmm, your lab looks interesting.” She peeked back into the building. “But I have to get back to my chaperone and your brother.”

“Of course.”

“Speaking of which, do you have something other than cloves for a toothache? Your brother's in a lot of pain.”

He eyeballed a row of bottles from the doorway.

“He keeps rubbing his jaw.”

Henry stepped into the lab, then returned with a tiny bottle in his hand, containing a scant amount of liquid. “Two drops of this, mixed with a non-alcoholic drink, should help. But no more than two drops. It's laudanum, and it's powerful.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wrightman. I'm much obliged!” She took a few steps backward, turned toward the hill, and squirreled the laudanum in her reticule. “Why don't we have a water closet like that at Bridesbridge?”

“The Bramah water closet? Chiefly because I haven't figured out how to make it flush yet. As soon as it's ready, I'll have one installed at Bridesbridge. It's taken me this long to work it out. Along with the shower.”

“Did you say ‘shower'?” She stopped.

“I didn't realize that the subject of plumbing would cause you so much excitement. Have a wonderful time with Sebastian.” He bowed.

Chloe curtsied.

She must've lost almost twenty minutes of her time with Sebastian by now. The breeze picked up, and then,
BANG!
A gun went off in the field behind her. She froze, her ears ringing and her heart pounding with shock. Turning and squinting, she caught sight of Grace, who was within shouting distance. She was practicing with her revolver and target. Damn her! Chloe stomped toward her, then stopped.
Wait
. That was exactly what Grace wanted her to do, to waste her alone time with Sebastian arguing with her about gunshots. Chloe spun around and made a dash for the Grecian temple, where Sebastian had dozed off and Mrs. Crescent was munching contentedly on a cucumber sandwich while reading a book.

“A lady never runs, Miss Parker. How many times do I have to remind you?” Mrs. Crescent said. “Sandwich?” Fifi wagged his tail as he chomped on a miniature mince pie.

“No, thank you.” Chloe was too discombobulated to eat.

Just then, Sebastian, who was lying on the picnic blanket, propped himself up with his elbows. His jaw looked a little swollen. “Finally. You're back. I missed you.” He stared at her without flinching.

It was as if she could dive into his eyes and float. She flashed him a smile. How was it he always knew what to say and do to make her feel like—well—a hundred thousand dollars?

She wanted to tell him about the laudanum, but that would bring up the impropriety of her having been with Henry unchaperoned. Hoping he'd forget about his toothache so they could get on with this date already, she decided to just spike Sebastian's lemonade with the stuff and be done with it. This proved easy enough to do. Sebastian had closed his eyes to sunbathe and Mrs. Crescent was deep into her book.

Chloe turned her back to the cameras. The size of the “drops” she was supposed to add to the lemonade, however, was clearly open to interpretation. She slipped two rather smallish ones into his drink, not wanting to give him too much. Then she read a Cowper poem to him aloud, the verse punctuated by gunshots, until he finished his lemonade.

Plucking a blade of grass to use as a bookmark, she asked him, “What did you think of that poem?”

He rubbed his jaw, contemplating his response. “I must confess. I was paying more attention to you than to the poem. I couldn't take my eyes off you, and I guess my mind started wandering.”

Chloe looked at Mrs. Crescent, who winked and stuffed a Bath bun into her mouth. Off in the distance, she saw Henry walk out of the lab, mount his horse, and gallop off toward Dartworth. A cool breeze fluttered the corners of the picnic blanket.

Chloe picked up a sketchbook and charcoal sticks. She wanted to sketch Sebastian—his tousled black hair, his dark eyes and chin with that perfect little cleft in the middle. But a lady would never be so bold. She worked on a beech tree in the distance instead.

“Mr. Wrightman,” Mrs. Crescent said as she handed Sebastian a second sketchbook. “I'd like to see you do a portrait of Miss Parker. I know one of your pastimes is sketching.”

“It would be my pleasure.” Sebastian sat up, placed the sketchbook down in his lap, took a sidelong glance at Chloe, and immediately put his hand on his jaw. “Ugh. This tooth is killing me.” He rubbed his jaw again. “And these cloves aren't helping.” He tossed them over his shoulder.

Chloe hoped the laudanum would kick in soon.

Mrs. Crescent took a sandwich from the basket and looked up at the darkening sky.

BAM! BAM!
Two shots in a row got Sebastian's attention, and he put down his blank sketchbook to stand and make sure everything was all right in Graceland. And of course it was.

“I truly don't know how you tolerate her, Miss Parker.” He sat back down. “Is she always like this?”

She smiled, because a lady would never articulate what was swirling around in her brain after a comment like that. She had to bite her lip to keep herself from saying exactly what she thought of her competitor.

He began rubbing his jaw again.

Chloe closed her sketchbook. “Mr. Wrightman, I do believe I'll go for a turn around the hill,” she said.

“May I escort you?” He stood and straightened his cravat.

“Please do,” Chloe said. She disappeared behind a fluted column and stepped into a grassy patch that was covered with orange and red poppies.

BAM!
Another gunshot rang out.

The cameraman followed them, but Mrs. Crescent started talking to the camera, apparently with the goal of furthering Chloe's cause of getting Sebastian alone. The cameraman stayed with the chaperone for quite a while.

A ring-necked pheasant landed on a rock in front of them. Chloe stopped to watch it.

“What a beauty,” Sebastian said as he eyed the bird.

A wave of warmth came over her.

“I can't wait until hunting season!”
What?
He pretended to hold a gun and shot at the bird.

The pheasant flew away.

“Excuse me?” Chloe's hands shook, along with, for a moment, her resolution. She thought he was an ornithologist!

“I'm kidding, really. I don't know what's gotten into me.”

It was, no doubt, the laudanum, and that was, without a doubt, all Chloe's fault.

When they reached the grotto, she looked back toward the Grecian temple, but she couldn't really see it that well. It was fuzzy. She did need glasses! But it couldn't have been that far away. She wasn't allowed to be out of Mrs. Crescent's line of sight, although she was the most forgiving of chaperones when it came to anything to do with Sebastian. The breeze felt cooler now, and almost damp.

“Let's give the cameraman the slip,” Sebastian said as he took her hand and led her into a thicket of trees, then through an opening in a huge hollow oak tree. He jumped down a giant hole and landed just under the tree roots. “Follow me down the rabbit hole, here.” He held out his arms.

“That's not a rabbit hole,” Chloe said as she peered down at him.

He laughed. “Of course it isn't. It's a secret entryway to the grotto. Come on.” He held his arms out and she slid down into them. The red poppies she had picked scattered at their feet.

For a moment they stood there, pressed up against each other in the grotto, listening to the water from the reflecting pond lap against the rocks. He slid the bonnet off her head and his hand traced her spine, then moved down to her thighs. His touch sent tingles up and down her.

“I'm feeling much better now,” he said as he lifted her chin with his hand to kiss her.

It suddenly occurred to the lady that drugging her suitor might not have been a good idea.

BAM!
What sounded like another gunshot echoed through the grotto, but this time it was accompanied by a flash, and both Chloe and Sebastian startled, looking toward the opening of the grotto. Rain was gushing down.

“We've got to go—” Chloe stepped toward the entrance, but Sebastian grabbed her by the waist and smiled, pressing her against the mossy wall. Lightning flashed again. Well, she'd gotten herself into this rabbit hole. Now how the hell was she going to get out of it?

The prospect of being in the grotto had been so intriguing to her—the rocky walls covered in moss, a table and two chairs chiseled into the rock. Now it seemed nothing more to her than a dank cave, where, even if she screamed her loudest, nobody would hear her.

Meanwhile, Sebastian was nibbling on her neck and pressing himself against her.

Much as she wanted him, and wanted to give in to her increasing desire for his increasing hardness, she knew that Mrs. Crescent would not approve.

“I thought you had a toothache!” She tried to pass the situation off as a joke, to push him away, but he just reined her in closer.

“I have to get back to Mrs. Crescent!” Her necklace chose that moment to stage its fall into her bosom and Sebastian promptly fished it out, letting his fingers delve into her cleavage. Then he flung it toward the grotto opening. The rain pummeled down sideways.

This was all her fault, the drug was too much for him. “Sebastian! Let's go!” She raised her voice, but he locked her against the wall of the grotto with his arms and stifled her with a kiss, which, under normal circumstances, might have been exciting. But by nineteenth-century standards, such behavior was beyond shocking. So she did what any lady would do in her situation: she hiked up her gown, raised up her knee with superhuman force, and decked him. But good.

“Owww!”
He doubled over in pain.

Chloe dashed toward the grotto opening—looking back at him—and
wham
—she collided right into Henry, who happened to be barreling through the entrance at that very moment. This time she was thrilled to see him.

“Excuse me, Miss Parker,” a soaked Henry said as he bent down to pick up her necklace and hold it up, the emerald dangling.

She reached out for it. “Thank you. I'm so glad to see you. I'm afraid I may have overmedicated your brother. He's breaking all the rules!”

Henry shot a glance at Sebastian, then glared at her. “How much did you give him?”

“Two drops—that was it, Henry.”

Henry's brows furrowed. “I never should've given you that laudanum. Come on, Sebastian. Get into the carriage. It's pouring.”

Henry held his greatcoat over Chloe as she stepped into the rain and into gooey mud.

Drenched, she bent to step into the carriage, where Mrs. Crescent was already sitting, and slapping her closed fan in the palm of her hand like she was holding a constable's nightstick. Sebastian lumbered in and promptly fell asleep. A raindrop slid down his nose and hung, poised on the tip of it.

Well, it was sure to be a date he'd never forget. Or had he already forgotten? Why did she give him that laudanum? It was a drug, after all. She had brought out his dark side, and now what? She couldn't deal? Considering the fact that she managed to drug, and then deck, the bachelor heir, she'd surely be on the next plane out of here.

These questions taunted her that night as she thrashed around in her bed. Her flimsy mattress made crunching noises every time she moved. Instead of getting her beauty rest, she was agonizing over what to do next, until finally she determined to solve that damn riddle of a poem and search Grace's room for items that she'd smuggled in. She needed proof if she was going to outwit Grace and win the money. Or was it to win over Sebastian? And maybe Henry's good opinion?

The money. The man. The men! Would she consider stealing something from someone else's room for money alone? She really didn't want to fall for Sebastian or Henry, or worst of all, for both of them. That would complicate everything, her entire win-the-money-and-run plan.

Her last lingering thought before she fell asleep was to remember to have her chambermaid add more straw to the mattress. It felt like she was sleeping on a board, which, essentially, was exactly what she was doing.

 

 

T
he next morning, after Chloe once again inquired about any letters, hoping for news from Abigail, and after all the women had won five Accomplishment Points for painting a footstool, Grace was out horseback riding with Julia. So after taking her usual romp around the grounds trying to solve the impossible riddle Sebastian had given her, Chloe snuck into Grace's very red, walnut-paneled, and humongous room, and rifled through the table in her dressing room. She wanted to find condoms and nail Grace with the evidence.

The room, with its wooden-beam ceiling and lead-paned casement windows, seemed more Gothic than Regency in style. A small fire glowed in the fireplace, and even though it was the beginning of July, the room was cold. But she had to find proof of Grace's cheating, because this morning, as she put extra butter on her roll, the butler announced that there would be an Invitation Ceremony that very night at Dartworth after the women displayed their musical talents.

Her hands shook as she rummaged through Grace's drawers, because she never did this kind of thing. Really.

When she used the bathroom in other people's houses, she never even peeked in their medicine cabinets. She would feel guilty just opening the sink cabinet to look for toilet paper if it ran out.

She tugged at the lion's-head pull to open the top drawer and it made a scraping noise. Her heart throbbed and she checked the door—still closed. Grace's dressing table, capped in Italian marble and nearly twice the size of Chloe's, had not only a bottle of rose water on it, but lavender water and orange water, too, plus a vase of fresh cabbage roses.