Bennet, Pride Before the Fall (Love Austen 3)

Sipping tea and clattering teacups onto saucers increased the tension between them. Someone had to say something, and if Darcy was struggling . . . “How did bonding go with Henry? I forgot to ask yesterday.”

“It went well, I think. I hope.”

Darcy stared at him, but whenever Bennet dared to follow suit, he cast his view over Bennet’s shoulder, toward the shelves of china figurines and board games.

Bennet laughed softly. This was ridiculous. Neither of them should be this nervous. “Why did you come here?”

“I had dinner with Caroline, her mother, and her nephews. Harry and Martin, have you met them?”

“No, I think Caroline has mentioned them.”

Darcy nodded. “I left early.”

“I’m guessing as much.”

“Harry and Martin, they’re cousins. They—” Darcy swallowed, “—told Caroline and their grandmother that they were together. In love. There was such tenderness between them . . . and such tension at the table. I didn’t feel I should be witnessing a private confession.”

Bennet gripped his teacup, grappling with the conflicting emotions Darcy projected. Tenderness . . . tension. “I see.”

“I, uh, saw your brother and friends leaving and when I didn’t spot you bundling up into the car, I thought . . . Well, since I was here, I’d pop by.”

More clattering of saucers.

Wistfulness shadowed Darcy’s expression. “They made it look so easy.”

“Harry and Martin?” Bennet said.

“Coming out like that. In front of a stranger, too. Like nothing mattered but each other.”

“That sounds beautiful,” Bennet whispered.

Darcy stood, arms folded, and absorbed the view of town like those glittering lights might grant an epiphany. Moonlight outlined his pensive profile. Bennet reclined in his chair, feeling the pulse of Darcy’s uncertainty as if it were his own.

Darcy spun on his heel. Their gazes hit with breath-robbing electricity and Bennet scrambled to reason away his body’s traitorous response.

They broke away at the same time. Cleared their throats.

“You said you like playing games.” Darcy moved to the shelves behind Bennet. “Would you like to play something with me? Chess? Scrabble?”

“I don’t have a head for chess.”

“You don’t play?”

“You sound surprised.”

“Yes. I think you’d be very good at it.”

“Perhaps one day you’ll have to teach me.”

Darcy colored in the cluttered confines of the room. “Scrabble then?”

Sneaking curious glances at one another, they set up. Bennet was the first to lay tiles. “Since things are going so well with your son, does that mean you won’t come back to Cubworthy?”

Darcy frowned at his letters a long time before he placed something. “I have the time off, and I love the country air. Riding.”

“Then you should probably make the most of it.” Bennet’s stare bore a hole through the tiles in front of him.

“Maybe another couple of weeks. I want to hire a new gardener and there are a few more repairs I need to oversee.”

Bennet arranged his next word.

“Highjack with the alternate spelling. Clever.” Almost immediately, Darcy laid out his own, equally clever offering: phpht.

“Running low on vowels, are we?”

“Or maybe I’m mildly irritated at how even our scores are.” Darcy arched a cheeky brow, tugging a laugh from Bennet.

“I’m an editor, and too stubborn to let you move ahead. Thanks for the P. Pithy.”

“I like it.”

“I had you in mind.”

Darcy laid out a word, jerkily correcting the misspelling. “Did you?”

“When I got stuck with you and Caroline after the river flooded. You kept me on the brink of laughter most of the time.”

“Glad I amuse you.”

“Are you close friends?”

“She befriended my wife when we bought the farm and they became inseparable. When Clara got sick, Caroline was very good. She helped me through it and after, she supported my decision to return to England and stay with my father’s family. Never judged me for sending my two eldest to boarding school.”

Bennet couldn’t concentrate on his turn. His stomach rose and fell with sympathy. How traumatic it must have been. He cleared his throat. “And you kept in touch with her ever since. I mean, of course you do. You came from her place.”

“Her mother invites me to dinner whenever Caroline visits. I’ve been twice this week already.”

“This week?”

“Obviously on days she doesn’t invite you.”

They could both well guess why. “She senses some attraction between us.”

Darcy stilled, keeping his sights diligently on the board. “There . . . there’s still attraction between us, then?”

“Physically.”

“Physically.”

Bennet couldn’t stop the compulsive need to add, “And mentally.” He laid out another word, tripling his points on the J. “I like how our discussions stimulate me.”

Darcy looked up sharply.

“Come on. It’s not all one way, is it?”

The air thickened in Darcy’s pause. “Sharing opinions is important to me. It’s something I think every good relationship needs. Something I would like when . . .”

“Don’t stop there. When what? When you meet someone?”

“Yes.” Distractedly, Darcy set down a word.

“The R and the U need swapping around. Erudite.”

Darcy corrected them. “Don’t you think communication is important? Surely you wouldn’t stay with someone who didn’t engage your mind?”