Dating Mr. Darcy: A romantic comedy (Love Manor Romantic Comedy Book 1)

by Kate O'Keeffe

  He’s a Mr. Darcy sandwich, stuck between two adoring slices of womanhood. (Too far? I thought so, too, but you get the picture.)

  “Mrs. Watson, please pretend I’m not here,” he says.

  As if.

  “In that case, since you’re staying,” Mrs. Watson begins, looking a little ruffled, “we’ll get back to our planning. Miss Emma and Miss Reggie are our first volunteers. They’ll be riding side saddle around the paddock, after some tutoring.”

  Sebastian quirks an eyebrow in my direction. “Will they indeed? I am glad I came.”

  I bet he’s remembering how I fell out of that limo. But just because I fell then doesn’t mean I’ll fall off a horse. At least, I hope not. I lift my chin and shoot him a defiant look, but my heart’s not really in it.

  “Who would like to take their turn after our first volunteers?” Mrs. Watson asks.

  Every hand in the room stretches up to reach the ceiling, and Mrs. Watson busies herself assigning everyone to groups.

  Meanwhile, I notice Sebastian talking with Camille and Shelby. He looks relaxed and more than happy to be in their company, and I get a weird feeling inside, much like I did when he chose Kennedy for that date. It feels like, well, I can barely admit it to myself, but it feels a lot like jealousy.

  Which is totally ludicrous. I mean, it’s not like he and I are in a relationship or anything. In fact, he’s the one who’s helping me leave this reality dating fiasco. He wouldn’t be doing that if he felt anything for me, would he?

  It’s just that darn Darcy Effect, making me think things I shouldn’t.

  Much flirting with Sebastian by the contestants and bossing by Mrs. Watson later, and Reggie and I are ushered down to the stables, followed by a group of contestants who are next on the list.

  We’re met by a man in a check shirt and a ten-gallon hat, holding the reins of two huge horses that are snorting and huffing as they stand beside him. And when I say huge, I mean freaking huge. Surely they’re larger than your average horse. They’ve got to be as tall as a building!

  I try not to panic.

  “Howdy, ladies. I’m Russell, and today I’m gonna teach y’all how to ride side saddle,” the man in the hat says with a broad grin.

  “Hi there, Russell,” Reggie says pleasantly.

  I grunt my hello, my mind filled with horror scenarios, all of which involve oversized horses trampling me to death.

  Matilda Horsie did not prepare me for this.

  “This here is Marilyn,” Russell says, petting one of the horses, “and this here is Monroe.”

  “Marilyn and Monroe, huh?” Reggie says.

  Russell shrugs. “The boss is a big fan.”

  Casually, she walks over to the horses. “Can I pet one?”

  “Sure can,” Russell says.

  She smiles as she pets the side of the horse. “She’s gorgeous. Which one is she?”

  “That’s Monroe. You can ride her, if you like.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Monroe. I’m Reggie. I’m sure we’re gonna get along just fine.”

  I look at Reggie with wide eyes. She’s not at all afraid of these creatures. Quite the opposite in fact: she’s a freaking horse whisperer.

  Russell turns his attention to me. “Would you like to meet Marilyn?”

  “Oh, I’m fine here for now,” I reply, not shifting an inch. “I’ll say hi to her when we’re, you know, side saddling together later.”

  Side saddling? Is that a thing?

  I feel a hand on the small of my back. Startled, I look up into a familiar face.

  Sebastian.

  “I grew up with horses. Would you like me to help you?”

  “I think I know how to pet a horse,” I sniff. I don’t add, “only if they’re made of plastic and small enough to pick up and put in my pocket.” Minor detail.

  “Do you?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Really? Because you look terrified,” he says quietly.

  “I’m not terrified,” I reply unconvincingly.

  His lips stretch into a smile. “Come with me.”

  With his hand still on my back, we step over toward the horse. My heart rate kicks up a notch—or ten—but I hold my resolve and stand rigidly at Marilyn’s side.

  “You stroke her like this,” he says as he pets the horse on what I guess must be her shoulder. “Don’t touch her face, at least until she knows you. Despite what you see in movies, horses don’t like strangers doing that.”

  I reach out and tentatively touch her coat. It’s coarse and warm, and not quite as terrifying as I imagined.

  “There you are,” Sebastian says. “You are now friends.”

  I let out a nervous laugh as I eye the saddle on her back. “Let’s hope.”

  “You’ll be fine. Just do as you’re taught, and don’t let the animal sense your fear.”

  “Well, that’ll be easy,” I reply with a sardonic smile.

  “Okay, ladies. It’s time to get you on these here horses,” Russell announces.

  Sebastian rubs my shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

  “I know. I got this,” I reply with about three thousand percent more confidence than I feel.

  “I’m glad to hear it, Brady Bunch.”

  I look up and see how soft his eyes are, how his smile lights up his entire face. And this time, when the feelings hit me, I don’t even try to fight them.

  I’ve totally misjudged Mr. Darcy.

  And I am so in trouble.

  Chapter 16

  Far too quickly, Russell hands me a helmet to wear and places a set of steps in place for me to climb up onto Marilyn’s back. Which might be a less daunting experience if I were wearing some sensible Timothy leggings and a pair of shoes designed in this century. In my full-length gown and ballet slippers it is utterly terrifying.

  I secure the helmet under my chin and eye Marilyn. Her liquid brown eyes seem unfazed, and she lets out a huff as if to tell me to get on with it.

  It’s now or never.

  “Come stand on these here steps, Miss,” Russell instructs.

  Tentatively, I climb the steps until I’m in position. I give myself a little pep talk, trying to think of all the women I’ve seen riding side saddle. I land on one. A fictitious one at that. Lady Mary from Downton Abbey. Well, if she can do it, then so can I.

  And there’s no way I’m going to “entertain” the viewers by embarrassing myself once more.

  I glance back at Sebastian. He throws me an encouraging smile.

  Russell pets the side of the horse. “Put your left foot in the stirrup, push yourself up onto her, and hook your leg around the pommel. That’s the part that sticks out, in case y’all were wondering.”

  “Pommel. Got it.” I take a breath. “Here goes nothing.” I slip my foot into the stirrup and swing myself up onto the horse. My butt in place, I hook my right leg around the pommel and settle into the saddle. My instinct—or maybe simply too much time watching Lady Mary ride her horse—tells me to lean down and collect the reins in my hands.

  “You’re a natural,” Russell declares, and I think I detect a note of admiration in his voice. But then again, all I did was climb some steps and sit on a horse in a fancy dress, so I might be reading too much into it.

  High atop my horse, I survey the stables and the rolling fields beyond. “This isn’t so bad.”

  “It suits you,” Sebastian says.

  I look down at him and reply in my best English accent, “Am I a lady of the manor now?”

  “Absolutely.” His features soften as he smiles up at me, and I swear my heart skips a beat. “But I suggest you work on the accent.”

  I feign offense. “Hey! I thought I sounded exactly like Lady Mary.”

  He laughs, and somehow the sound reaches inside and makes my belly do a flip. “You did, if this Lady Mary were an American on a horse for the first time.”

  I give him my best glare, but can’t help but smile. I distract myself by watching as Reggie climb
s carefully onto her horse beside me. “Looking good, Reggie,” I call out.

  “Whoa!” she exclaims as the horse moves back a step. “Can you make it stay still? It’s movin’ and freakin’ me out.”

  “I’m holding her reins, Miss,” Russell replies pointedly.

  He’s clearly a little touchy about his horses.

  Reggie has another try, and this time manages to get herself onto her side saddle. Settling herself in, she says, “Hey, it’s kinda nice up here.”

  “I know, right? Just as long as our horses don’t decide to break into a run.”

  “That won’t be a problem if you treat her right, Miss,” Russell says. “Be confident and relaxed. Your horses will sense your fear if you’re not and may take control.”

  “That does not sound good to me, darlin,’” Reggie says.

  “We’re moving out now, so y’all hold on.” Russell takes the reins of my horse and another guy in a checked shirt steps forward to take Reggie’s.

  I glance at Sebastian and he throws me an encouraging smile.

  “We’re really doing this,” I mutter.

  As the horses move, I clutch onto the reins as though they’re a lifeline. Soon, we begin to get into a slow rhythm, plodding along, and I even begin to enjoy it.

  Once we’re out in the paddock and have been led around a course, we come to a halt. It feels strange to be stationary once more, and I surprise myself with wanting to move again.

  Russell asks if we’d like to try walking unaided. I nod and grin at him, my initial nerves evaporating.

  “All right. Y’all are now officially in control.”

  I hold the reins in my hands and make the clucking noise I’ve heard people use on TV. To my surprise, Marilyn begins a slow walk, and soon enough, we’re back in the clomping rhythm from before, only this time I’m riding solo, and it feels good.

  I look over at Reggie. She’s busy telling her horse to “gee up” and clucking and bouncing up and down in her saddle. The horse refuses to move. “A little help here?” she calls out. Russell saunters over to her in his casual cowboy way.

  “We’re good, aren’t we, Marilyn?” I say as we walk steadily along. “You and I are a great team.”

  I hear the sound of hooves nearby and expect to see Reggie and her horse moving once more. Instead, I’m met with the sight of Sebastian atop another beautiful chestnut horse, riding as though he’s been doing so all his life. Which he has. So, you know, it makes sense.

  As I watch him sitting upright, commanding his horse, my breath shortens. I will not lie. Looking more like Mr. Darcy than he ever has, with his strong legs in their snug pants and riding boots, he’s confident and sexy in that total romantic hero kind of way.

  Oh, my.

  I watch him ride over toward me, and try my best not to show him what’s raging inside of me. The last thing he needs is another woman going all silly over him.

  He slows to my pace and pulls in beside me, followed by a cameraman. “Looking good, Brady.”

  “I’m just plain old Brady now, huh? What happened to Bunch?”

  “I think we’re on a first name basis now. Don’t you?”

  “Oh, my last name is Bunch, is it?”

  He laughs and it sends a wave of electricity through me. “I see you’ve graduated.”

  “Oh, I’m a quick study.”

  “I can tell. How are you finding it?”

  “It’s easy once you know how, I guess.”

  “We’ll have you riding at the Cheltenham Festival before you know it.’

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s the most prestigious race meeting in the British National Hunt.”

  “That sounds too fancy for me. Don’t tell me, you go every year?”

  “No, I don’t. Naturally, I’ve been a few times, but I prefer riding. Show jumping is incredible to watch, but I never had the temperament or inclination to jump myself. I prefer it to be just me and my horse, riding through the countryside, enjoying the fresh air and the exhilaration.” He gets a faraway look in his eye. “My horse at home is called Artemis. I’ve had her for years.”

  I watch how his features soften as he speaks about his horse and my heart melts to see the love he has for her. “Is she this sort of horse?” I ask, not having any clue what breeds of horses there are.

  “She’s a Thoroughbred.”

  “Of course she is.”

  He snaps his eyes to mine. “Are you being rude about me or my horse?”

  “Neither. It’s just you look like a Thoroughbred horse kinda guy. Not one of those workhorse types with the fluffy feet.”

  He laughs. “Fluffy feet? You really don’t know anything about horses, do you?”

  “I’m a city girl, loud and proud.”

  “Isn’t everyone from Texas either a cowboy or a cowgirl?”

  “Sure we are,” I reply with a laugh. “If this were 1813.”

  “Which it is.”

  “Right. I forgot.”

  “Would you like to go for a short ride together?” he asks. “I think my horse would like to stretch her legs.”

  I glance at Matty, the cameraman out of the corner of my eye. “I don’t want to go too fast.”

  “We can go at this speed.”

  I gesture at Matty and pull a face, hoping Sebastian gets my unspoken message that I would prefer not to be on film right now.

  He looks up and says in a louder voice, “Tell me more about your grandmother’s embroidery. Did she really teach you all you know about the art?”

  “I’m sorry, what now?”

  “Your grandmother,” he repeats, shooting me a look. “You were telling me all about how she taught you to embroider.”

  I tag on. “Oh, she did. She was an excellent embroiderer. She could do cross stitch and back stitch, and,” I pause. I’ve exhausted my knowledge of embroidery already and I’m only two stitches in. “All the stitches, really.”

  “Any you especially like?”

  “I like the double looped back flip over.”

  Totally made up.

  “My personal favorite, as well.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “You look more like the type to go for the double crosser stitch.” I shoot him a triumphant smile. I like the way I’ve made a conversation about my grandmother’s fictitious embroidery abilities into a swipe at Sebastian for not following through on our deal to send me home.

  He chortles, and I know he’s caught onto my thread, if you’ll excuse the terrible pun. “Oh, Emma. The double crosser is not my preferred stitch at all. I prefer the hands tied stitch. It’s very tricky and hard to pull off.”

  “That’s what they all say.” I eye the cameraman once more and note he’s still filming us. “What type of embroidery stitch do you like, Matty?” I ask him.

  “Oh, I, ah, don’t know anything about it.”

  “Perhaps we can teach you?” Sebastian suggests.

  Matty lowers his camera. “You’re not meant to talk to me, guys. Just talk between yourselves, ‘kay?”

  “So, you’re not into embroidery?” I ask.

  “I’m sure it’s really interesting and all, but I kinda gotta do my job here.” He hoists his camera back into position, and points it back at us.

  My plan is foiled. Of course they’re not going to stop filming the star of the show with one of the contestants, even if they’re talking about something as dull as embroidery. They’ll just edit that part out.

  I guess I’ll have to hope I manage to stay atop Marilyn and not “entertain” the audience.

  Sebastian and I ride slowly together. He’s considerably more at home on the back of his horse than I am on mine. But I’m putting on a good front, and getting into a groove with Marilyn.

  “Do you have a job?” I ask him. “Other than being Mr. Darcy, of course.”

  “I do. I work for a bank in the City.”

  He works for a bank. A rich guy’s job, for sure.

  “Which city?”

  �
��It’s the name of the financial area in London. It’s simply known as the City.”

  “Because there are so few cities in the world and everyone automatically knows what you’re talking about?”

  He shoots me a sardonic grin. “I see Emma The Firecracker is back.”

  I shrug. “Always.”

  “Tell me about your job. You’ve got an activewear label called Timothy, is that right?”

  I think of Matty filming us, and know I owe Sebastian a big thank you for raising my label on camera. “I sure do. I was wearing my label when I met you on the red carpet, you know.”

  “I do recall you mentioning it. Something about sweat, I believe.”

  I don’t miss a beat. “Timothy activewear wicks sweat away to keep you feeling dry as you work out. We’re only doing a women’s line right now, but once we launch a men’s line, I’ll be sure to send you some.”

  “That would be wonderful. Why did you get into activewear? Are you especially sporty?”

  I shake my head. “My friend Penny is. She’s the designer. She was sick of wearing clothes that didn’t fit right or felt uncomfortable. The passion she has for what she does is so infectious that the day she told me her plans, I knew I had to start the business with her. But it was scary, you know?”

  “Starting a business?”

  “Oh, yeah. I hated my job, but at least it was a regular paycheck with medical and dental.”

  “So, there’s a lot riding on Timothy’s success.” He pets his horse and adds, “Pun intended.”

  My mind turns to the size of my overdraft and the money Penny was lent by her aunt. “You could say that.”

  I hear the sound of pounding hooves approaching us. Disconcerted, I look up to see Hayley atop a horse, bounding toward us. She clearly knows what she’s doing, confident and at ease on her horse, the orange orbs attached to her chest threatening to hit her in the face with each step. She pulls on the reins to bring her horse to a stop next to Sebastian.

  “Hi there, you two,” she says with a bright smile as her horse stomps its feet and makes horsey sounds (sue me, I’m not a horse person). “What are you two doing all the way over here?”