Bennet, Pride Before the Fall (Love Austen 3)

“Walking does seem questionable.”

“Did you see his boots outside? Mud up to the knees.”

“He seems careful with his appearance. I can only assume that this meeting of yours means a lot to him.”

“More than catching a cold? Ridiculous. He should have borrowed a car.”

“He doesn’t have one?”

“Refuses to get one, I heard. Some nonsense about the environment. All this looking down on other people and their choices. Their beliefs are never as good as his own . . .” Caroline was quiet for a moment. Bennet squared his shoulders to walk in, but she continued, “Doesn’t that change your opinion of him?”

“My opinion of him is as it always was.”

Another short pause followed. Then Caroline, in that enthusiastic tone of hers, “Of course, I am interested in helping him with his party thing. I hate to see anyone struggling to fit in around the village, and my financial support will make this doable. I suppose I can encourage a few people to take part.”

“There’s a reason you’re the local queen.”

“Oh, stop it.” She giggled, not sounding like she wanted Darcy to stop at all. “I’m hardly a queen. I simply do my bit to make Cubworthy the best it can be.”

“Do you think a Pride event will help the village?”

Caroline made no immediate answer, and Bennet’s patience reached its end. He would not let Darcy ruin his chances for Caroline’s support.

He strode into the room.

Caroline gave a short nod of approval. Darcy offered a slower, lingering look. Again, he jerked his gaze away. “That coffee must be almost done.”

Caroline sprang up and sashayed into the kitchen.

Darcy had taken Bennet’s former place at the table; Bennet’s phone still rested there.

“Bennet, you were telling me what you do for a living,” Caroline called over.

“I’m a freelance editor of gay romance novels.” He stared deliberately at Darcy.

Darcy stared back. “Is there much work in that?”

“More than I can manage.”

“Kiwi writers?” Caroline asked.

“From all around the world, but Kiwi authors too.”

Silence followed his statement. The rain continued, a ceaseless drum over the roof and windowpanes.

The moment their coffees touched the table, his phone vibrated. Caroline’s, too.

“Oh, dear.”

Bennet resisted the cringey urge to lunge for his phone.

“What’s wrong?” Darcy asked.

“You should join the community message board,” Caroline said. “It’s a wonderful tool, don’t you agree, Bennet?”

“Yes. Full of very accurate news and fun family facts.”

Darcy’s lips curled and he slid Bennet’s phone toward him.

“There’s been a flash flood,” Caroline said. “The river has broken its banks. All bridges in and out of Cubworthy are out of use.”

Bennet lurched to his feet. Lyon. “I have to get home.”

“It’s not flooded the village. Your brother will be fine. The school bus didn’t pick up the Cubworthy kids today.” Caroline grimaced. “Looks like you’re stuck out here for a day or two.”

“Perhaps you own a dingy? I can row over.”

Darcy took the news easily and served them all coffee from the carafe. He met Bennet’s eyes as he poured into his china cup. “My advice for boating during a flood? Don’t.”

“Lyon is all alone.”

“From what I’ve seen of your brother, he doesn’t follow guidance anyway.”

Bennet closed his eyes briefly. “God. He’s marooned in a village full of shearers!”

Caroline and Darcy looked at him inquisitively.

“Never mind.” He waved the thought away with a hand. “Caroline. Would you put up with me until it’s safe to cross back into the village?”

“Well.” She touched her scarf, eyes flashing to Darcy. “I absolutely would welcome you to stay here. If I had any spare rooms. As it is, I’m sleeping in the living room during the renovations.”

Bennet searched in vain for another option. The nearest inn was practically in Port Ratapu. He didn’t want to be that far from Lyon. Farms this side of the river were few and far between. Not another one for miles. It’d be a cold trek without a horse, and still no guarantee he’d be welcome.

He drummed his fingers over his thigh.

There was no other option. His gaze locked with Darcy’s.

“I suppose that means I’m at your mercy.”

Where Caroline’s house was full of light colors and delicate, frilly décor, Darcy’s was all rich, textured wallpaper and gothic furniture.

Bennet admired Darcy’s red-themed living room, walls and furnishings and carpet variations on the same shade, tied in with dark timber accents. Far too massive for one person, but it must’ve been lively with kids around.

Bennet made a quick call to Lyon, and Darcy politely lent him a spare laptop. Perching on a massive armchair, Bennet quickly accessed his documents online and got to work.

Darcy settled in near large gridded windows across the room, reading. Neither interrupted the other, Darcy no doubt happy with any arrangement where they didn’t have to converse.

An hour later, Caroline joined them, carrying Bennet’s clothes that she’d taken the liberty of drying.

He changed back into them in his cozy guest room—gray walls, large mirror, massive bed with sheepskin throw rugs—and returned to find Caroline setting up a Scrabble board.