He shook his head. “I’m not really a hundred percent. I’ve been rather out of sorts since the night of the dinner party. One of my French cooks kept the cream off the ice too long, and it went bad.”

Chloe’s mouth fell open. “I was sick the night of the dinner party, too.”

“You were? I think we were the only two. I’m so sorry about that. It won’t happen again.”

“It only lasted a few hours for me.” Chloe wanted to change the subject, and quick. “Perhaps you can inform me, Mr. Wrightman, what exactly it is we are hunting?”

He smiled. “It’s only the smell of a fox we’re after, not a real fox. The hunt master lays down the scent and trees it at the end.”

“Trees the scent?”

“The hunt master will end the scent at a certain tree and the dogs will surround it, signaling the end of the hunt.”

They trotted toward the gate, where the hunt master and the rest of the riders stood ready.

“I do so love the chase,” Sebastian said as he adjusted his cravat. “Even if it is just a mock hunt.”

“Do you prefer to chase or be chased?” Chloe asked.

“Why he prefers to be chased, of course,” Grace butted in. “Isn’t that why we’re all here, darling? To chase you?” Sebastian looked out past the fence, toward the field. Henry slid his horse between Julia’s and Chloe’s.

The hunt master raised the horn to get attention and shouted. “I might remind everyone that fifteen Accomplishment Points are at stake in this race. Lady Grace, Miss Tripp, Miss Potts, and Miss Harrington lead with twenty-five Accomplishment Points each. Miss Parker has fifteen. Now, a scented trail has been laid out—along with some false leads and dead ends. Experienced riders may take the jumps. Others are advised to take the way around. Ladies are advised to keep pace with Mr. Wrightman and me if you can. Be the first to finish the race by finding the ‘fox’ and win. Everyone ready?” He brought the horn to his lips.

Chloe tightened her grip on the reins. “Let the chase begin,” she said to no one in particular.

“I believe it already has, Miss Parker,” Henry said.

“Tallyho!” shouted the hunt master. He blew the horn, the gate swung open, and the hounds came hurtling through, barking and yipping. A pounding of hooves sent a spike of determination up Chloe’s back.

She gripped the reins, doing her best to stay on Sebastian’s tail for what seemed like forever, until the hounds howled, the hunt master blew the horn, and the pace increased. Her riding hat flew off, and the ribbons chafed her neck, until finally she released one of her tight fists from the reins and untied the hat, letting it soar into the thicket.

Sebastian looked back at her and winked. He didn’t have to ride sidesaddle, so he was able to go increasingly faster. Still, she gained on him with Chestnut. Grace’s horse huffed and snorted right behind her, but Chloe knew better than to look back and lose any rhythm. The camera crew drove alongside them on ATVs.

Finally she caught up to Sebastian and leaned over, tapping him on the butt with her riding crop.

“Caught you!” she shouted.

He flashed a smile and spurred his horse to go even faster. Suddenly he turned, driving his horse off trail into the thick of the forest. Far ahead, the hunt master had stopped, his horse pointing in the direction of the yipping hounds, his hat signaling the turn.

Chloe hesitated just long enough for Grace to lunge ahead of her. Julia charged past, too. Kate and Gillian were still behind her, but Chloe realized she’d fall into second, then third, and then no place at all.

She kicked Chestnut, spurring him on, gaining on Grace, and finally passing her. But where was Sebastian? She saw his horse’s backside way up ahead, and the horse seemed to be doing a jump. She couldn’t do a jump, she’d have to go around, but she’d lose time. She leaned into the horse and squinted, making out a long tree trunk stretched over two stumps. Chloe’s neck tightened as she bore down to steer him around it—but she had waited too long and Chestnut stumbled.

He regained his footing after they cleared the jump. Chloe inhaled as if she forgot how to breathe. Behind her, she heard Grace’s horse knock the log off-kilter. Chloe almost stopped to turn around and help, but then she heard the stream of obscenities that confirmed that Grace had to be okay.

Her blood pumping, Chloe urged Chestnut on and caught up to Sebastian, but up ahead, in a ravine, she saw a black riding hat floating in the water, and it wasn’t Sebastian’s. She spotted Henry’s horse rearing up, without anyone on him. Fear zigzagged through her. Henry was on the ground near his horse. He could get trampled. Was he hurt?

Sebastian mustn’t have seen him. He clipped right by his brother.

Closer now, Chloe slowed Chestnut. Time froze as she looked to her left at Henry, who was struggling to sit up and rubbing his leg, then at Sebastian, who was galloping after the hunt master.

“Are you all right?” Chloe asked Henry.

“I’m fine! Go ahead!” Henry waved her on. “You’re winning! Go!” He sat up, but didn’t get up off the ground.

Chloe looked toward Sebastian. Clods of dirt flew from his horse’s hooves. She frowned and brought Chestnut to a halt. The cameramen on the ATV switched their focus to Grace, who careened past and cracked her riding crop hard on her horse, spinning after Sebastian. The ATV drove alongside Grace and disappeared into the woods.

It took Chloe a while to dismount with her unwieldy skirt and Henry had meanwhile hoisted himself to his feet. He grabbed his horse’s bit and calmed the horse.

Just then Julia galloped up and slowed her horse to a trot.

“Go, Julia, go ahead! Don’t let Grace win!” Chloe said. “Hurry!”

Julia took off, with Gillian and Kate close behind. Kate looked back, but never said anything.

Chloe hurriedly tied Chestnut to a tree and hustled over to Henry.

“Is your leg all right?” She could see he was favoring it.

“I’ll be fine. It’s my horse’s leg that’s cut. No wonder he threw me. But it’s not bad. Don’t worry about me. If you go now, you still have a chance.”

Blood was running from his horse’s front leg. It looked like a deep gash. Chloe wasn’t good with blood. The horse tossed his head up and down.

“I can’t just leave you here,” Chloe said. “You’re both hurt.”

“I can handle this. Go ahead or you’ll lose! You want that money, don’t you? Or Sebastian? Or both?”

It all seemed so crass, the way he put it. He whipped off his riding jacket, tossed it aside, pulled off his white muslin shirt, and ripped it into strips.

Chloe tried to avoid gaping at his abs, which also happened to be—ripped. She felt woozy, from the blood dripping down the horse’s leg to his hoof, then curdling on the dirt, no doubt.

Chloe snapped to. She did her best to push up her tight sleeves. “You can’t get rid of me that easily. Tell me what I can do.”

Henry gave her The Look. As in The Look Mr. Darcy gave Elizabeth Bennet in virtually any film adaptation of Pride and Prejudice when he realized that he loved her. It was that Look along with the dive in the lake that typecast Colin Firth as romantic leading man for fifteen years, much to his chagrin. Chloe would know it anywhere, and it happened very quickly, but it was The Look.

She skipped a breath. Her riding jacket felt too tight and she stepped back.

“Here,” Henry said. “You hold the bit and steady him while I wrap him up.”

Henry expertly wrapped the strips of shirt like a bandage around the horse’s leg, the horse whinnying and stamping as he tied it off. Blood saturated the shirt and it turned blood brown. He coiled the strips, but the blood soaked through everything.

Henry worked so quickly, so confidently, it impressed Chloe unlike anything she had seen before. He was a man who took action and took care of things, and people, and animals.

What was she thinking?! Her instinct had been to stop and help Henry, but had she made the right choice? She’d just sacrificed Sebastian, not to mention the Accomplishment Points. She thought about Abigail, the business, and her head began to spin. If she’d eaten that cow’s tongue on toast for breakfast, she might have more strength—

“Miss Parker? Miss Parker?!” Henry was tapping water on her face with his hands, looking down on her from above, his face lit with a shaft of light coming through the canopy of trees. Her head was in his lap as he knelt on one knee. She heard the water lapping in the ravine. The bun of her hair rubbed right against his manhood, as they would say in the nineteenth century. Or was that just in romance novels? In a stupor, she turned toward his bare chest. His flesh felt warm against her cold, wet cheek. His pecs were impeccable. He had a pine scent about him. Or was that just the forest floor?

“Henry.”

He leaned into her, she lifted her head toward him, and he kissed her with a hunger and a force that both surprised and excited her.

Just as suddenly he stopped, slowly releasing her bottom lip, and smiled. “Now you’re going to tell me you didn’t faint.”

“I never faint.”

“Clearly.” He moved in for another kiss, and that was when Chloe noticed a cameraman sidestepping down the ravine toward them.

With Henry’s help, she staggered to a standing position and turned to face the camera. Blood was rushing to her head. The cameraman hadn’t got her head lolling in Henry’s lap, had he? Henry, shirtless. Her, without her chaperone. Them kissing! What had possessed her? She broke into a shiver and her teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. This was not how she wanted it to end, not at all.