Bennet, Pride Before the Fall (Love Austen 3)

Darcy’s lips flattened.

“Thought not.”

Darcy opened his mouth to speak, but Caroline’s voice distracted him.

“Darcy!”

He turned around slowly, murmuring as Caroline waved for him. “Tell me she doesn’t tally twice in our little game.”

“I don’t make the rules.”

Darcy sent him a scathing look that yanked a short, tight laugh from him.

“At least she’s at an age you won’t have to worry about more children.”

“I have nothing against more children.”

That . . . was surprising.

Darcy read his expression correctly this time. He cleared his throat. “I mean, if my partner wanted them. Or had them already.”

“You’re not exhausted from it all?”

“Yes, and I’d still do it all again. Maybe . . .”

“Maybe, what?”

“Maybe I’d be better at it next time. Not make the same mistakes.”

Bennet felt off-kilter. The weather was warmer than he’d thought it would be. He’d worn too many layers. He was sweating something ferocious. He ripped his gaze away from Darcy to Caroline. “Perhaps there’s still a chance if you woo quickly.”

They were quiet a long moment. Their song was over, so there was no reason for this conversation, for this . . . tightness inside to continue.

“Off you go, then.”

Darcy must have felt similarly, because with a short nod, he headed for Caroline.

Bennet sighed a deep breath of relief.

Parked on the living room windowsill, legs bent across the wide length, Bennet nursed a cup of steaming tea. His gaze oscillated between the shearers having their nightly smoke outside the inn, and Lyon stripping out of shirt number three.

“I have literally nothing to wear.”

“Literally—”

Surrounded by a puddle of castaway shirts, Lyon wagged a finger. “Do not even start.”

“Why not? You literally couldn’t handle it?”

“Benny!” Lyon whined. He grabbed the final option off the back of the couch and slipped it on. The shirt was brighter than Lyon’s usual ‘farmer’ style—more Bennet’s style—and Bennet’s stomach flipped.

“What do you think?”

“Do you feel good in it?”

Lyon glanced in the mirror on the closet that housed their outdoor wear. “I, um . . .” His gaze flittered to Bennet. “It’s okay, I guess.”

“You were more enthusiastic about the flannel—”

“Nah,” Lyon said nonchalantly. “This’ll do. I mean, I don’t have time to change. William’s waiting for me at the tearooms.”

“What’s showing tonight?”

“Dunno, don’t care. I’ll be spending the two hours checking out my date and trying to figure out if it’s an actual date.”

Lyon checked his phone and swore. “Gotta go.”

In a flurry, Lyon grabbed his wallet and the door shut behind him, leaving the lingering scent of Bennet’s borrowed aftershave behind.

Bennet sipped his tea and chuckled, watching Lyon skip down the street below, first date thrills echoing in his eager step. Half the smokers had left, and a new figure had settled on the bench. A silly spring in his stomach had Bennet setting his cup down, scrambling into some shoes and racing downstairs.

Cool air breezed over his face and funneled up his shirt sleeves. He planted himself on the porch before Will, who startled at seeing him and set his Kindle on his lap.

“You always read out here?”

“I’m bunking with two other men who make such a racket I can’t concentrate.”

Bennet folded his arms and raised a brow.

Will chuckled and rubbed his beard. “Yeah, sorry. I debated long and hard about showing up at the ball. But such a public gathering . . . not the best place to meet Darcy again.”

“You probably couldn’t have avoided him,” Bennet agreed, sighing. “I missed not . . . bumping into you, though.”

Will gazed up at Bennet, a naughty spark in his look. “That was a shame.”

Their eyes connected and . . . well, why not? Lyon was out for at least two hours. “I have a quiet place you can read. Warmer, too.”

Will grinned. “Is that right?”

“Why don’t you and your Kindle come over for a bit? We could have . . . coffee.”

“Coffee?”

“If you’re into it?”

Will clasped his Kindle and stood, eagerness thrumming from him. “I never say no to a caffeine rush.”

Bennet grabbed him by the arm and tugged him home.

He should have been walking on clouds. The evening before had been . . . well, for a first time, pretty decent. He was sure it would improve as they grew more familiar with one another.

The spark was sure to follow . . .

Bennet sipped from his coffee and tried to shake the congested feeling in the back of his nose.

On school holiday time, Lyon was still in bed, his snores rumbling through the attic.

Riding. Bennet should be out riding.

He dressed and dragged himself to the stables. As he brushed down Doll, he kept having to stop to catch his breath. The tightness around his head insisted he forego saddling up.

He returned home past the greenhouse and grabbed the keys for the mobile library. He’d volunteered to run it while Charlie was gone.