Bennet, Pride Before the Fall (Love Austen 3)

“Gosh, I can’t believe another year is over,” Bennet murmured. “So much has happened the past twelve months, it makes me wonder what might happen next year.”

“Next year?” Olivia smiled, glancing down at her stomach. “There’s still a bunch of hours left to surprise you in this one.”

Charlie, who had been reading a newspaper next to her, bolted upright.

She laughed. “I wasn’t meant to spill it like that. It’s still early. Really, I’m just a couple of weeks late. But I’m hopeful.”

Bennet swallowed down his concerns. Charlie seemed immeasurably happy, and maybe that was enough. Maybe this was a type of happily ever after too. Not Bennet’s choice, but beautiful nonetheless.

Charlie pulled Olivia up and hugged her tightly. “We’ll make this work, Olivia. I’m so happy we get to have this.”

“Me too.”

“I better pack up and move, eh.”

Another gleeful laugh. “I was thinking, since nothing exciting will happen in the next month, why don’t you give yourself time to sort things out and come back in February? Bennet could help you with the move. If you made it around the second weekend, you could combine it with Port Ratapu’s Pride parade.”

Bennet met her plaintive gaze and cleared the emotion lumped in his throat. “How could I say no?”

Lyon stormed in from the balcony, fisting his phone, face pinched like he wanted to hit something, or cry. “I hate that man. I hate him.” Bennet was on his feet immediately.

Lyon stomped the length of the rug, kicking at the tassels. “Lyon, calm down. What’s the matter?”

Charlie and Olivia looked at one another and suddenly had to put the finishing touches on dessert for their New Year’s party. The door shut behind them with a click.

Tears brimmed Lyon’s eyes. “William said he wasn’t interested in me.”

Sympathy plucked at his chest. First heartbreak. He remembered the pain. “He said that?”

“Yep.”

“And you hate him?”

“No, I hate Darcy.”

“Darcy? What’s he got to do with it?”

“He convinced William I was too young for him.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I should’ve known he would do something like this. ‘Specially after he told me off for staying out too late.”

This was news to Bennet. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Angry that Darcy had interfered? Embarrassed that Darcy thought he needed help keeping Lyon safe? Or maybe . . . thankful. It wasn’t his business, true. But he’d taken on the role of bad cop and spared Bennet the consequences of a similar discussion. “He told you off?”

“For staying out late when you were sick. Fuck. He must have said something to William when I came to check on you.” Lyon stomped back and forth. “I believed William’s excuses about visiting friends and Christmas and not being able to hang out, but now . . .”

“William told you Darcy told him to dump you?”

“He said he’d reconsidered things after Darcy’s chat.”

Bennet frowned, torn between loyalty to his brother and frustration Darcy had done what Bennet also felt was right.

“God, he’s such a dick.”

“He has his issues. He might have meant well.”

Lyon looked stunned. “You don’t . . . like him now? Do you?”

High-pitched laughter sawed out of him. “As I said, many issues.”

“Ugh. Whatever. I’m going for a walk.”

Lyon stormed off, and Olivia and Charlie popped their heads around the corner.

“Dessert’s ready. Are you coming to the party now or . . .?”

Bennet’s chest swelled with clashing emotions. He swallowed and shook his head. “I’ve a bit of a headache. Could you tell Caroline I’m sorry?”

Once they left, Bennet began pacing the rug himself.

He should be worrying about helping Lyon through his loss, not trying to make sense of Darcy.

But.

Why had he interfered? Did he feel entitled, having raised three kids? Or had he acted out of genuine concern?

The man was baffling.

Will’s experience of Darcy suggested an edge of cruelty to Darcy’s actions. Yet, from a different angle, there was softness to them . . .

Lyon was his priority. It was too crowded in here. He needed space and fresh air to think. He pocketed his phone and slipped on his shoes. He and Lyon walked the hill every morning, so if Bennet was lucky, he’d catch up with him before he hit the summit.

He jogged down the zigzag path, swung left out of the gate, and the universe confronted him with Darcy, moving swiftly in Bennet’s direction.

They were less than six feet apart when Darcy spotted him. The setting sun softened his frowning expression. “Are you okay? Not another flu, I hope?”

“I’m fine. Needed a walk.”

Darcy nodded. “May I come with you?”

They walked up a bush-shrouded path, so close their shirt-sleeves brushed. Bennet felt it as strongly as if there’d been no material between them at all.

His stomach fluttered and he quickened his step.

At the summit, Lyon was nowhere to be seen. Bennet collapsed onto the bench overlooking rolling hills and the ocean painted pink-and-purple by the setting sun.