by E. S. Carter
Thankfully, Bing was saved from being forced out of his chair like a young child is encouraged to go and kiss an old aunt with no teeth, by the static of a microphone and Jane introducing her younger sister Lydia to the crowd.
If he thought the night had been hard to interpret so far, that was nothing to the spectacle he witnessed on stage as the youngest Bennet performed her risqué song complete with accompanying dance moves—if grinding and rubbing were classed as a form of dance.
Bing dragged his eyes away from the exhibition on stage and sought out Jane. He couldn’t see her anywhere, and he worried for a brief second that her sister’s performance had sent her running. Something told him the spectacle Lydia was making in front of this esteemed audience, wasn’t anything that Jane had sanctioned.
He was about to get up and search for the middle Bennet sister when a flash of pink caught his eye. There in the shadows to the left of the stage stood Jane. Not even the dim lighting could hide that she was as white as a sheet and even if it did, the expression on her face was telling.
She was mortified.
Bing’s chest ached for her. He knew how difficult it was to be the peacekeeper amongst his family, but at least both his parents were still alive. The loneliness on Jane’s face called to him. At that moment, he felt what she felt, and he’d never had this kind of connection to another person, let alone one he’d never formally met.
He was on his feet before his next breath.
The show on the stage was coming to an end, but before he got to Jane she’d moved to stand next to Eliza, the eldest Bennet sister.
He stopped and watched them from the side of the room, waiting for the chance to say something, anything to the woman in pink. Jane Bennet appeared to wear her heart on her sleeve, and right now, he felt the tremor in her emotions as surely as if the room had been hit by an earthquake.
He finally got his opportunity to approach her when Lydia finished her song and left the stage. Mere moments later, Eliza thundered from the room leaving Jane alone in more ways than one.
Bing was only a few feet away from her when a well-dressed man in an expensive suit and dark tortoiseshell spectacles stood abruptly from a front row table almost toppling his chair, and stormed in Jane’s direction. Jane blanched before he’d even got to her, but quickly straightened her spine in preparation for whatever the man had to say.
Bing wasn’t near enough to hear what words were exchanged, but Jane’s face told him it wasn’t a pleasant conversation or one that she was enjoying being a part of, so when Jane made to walk away, and the man’s hand snatched out to grip her wrist, Bing leapt into action.
“Excuse me, Miss Bennet, I’m so sorry to interrupt—” He wasn’t “—but I’d hoped to speak with you about the Longbourn Shelter.”
“Piss off,” the man spat at Bing, increasing his grip on Jane’s wrist. “I’m fucking talking here. So, toddle off with your ‘excuse mes’ and go take your begging cap elsewhere.”
Bing wasn’t generally an aggressive man, but his fists clenched involuntarily, and he stepped up until he was practically toe to toe with the other man. Bing may seem unassuming, but on rising to his full height he was easily three inches taller than his counterpart, and it gave him a burst of confidence to force the man to look up at him.
“Unhand her.”
“Or what,” the other man sneered.
Not used to issuing threats, Bing snarled the first thing that came into his head.
“Or I will hit you so hard even Google won’t be able to find you.”
The man’s face froze, his mouth open but silent, and Jane used the opportunity to rip her arm from his grip.
“I suggest you sit and maybe grab another drink to cool down Conrad,” she offered calmly.
Jane’s sweet voice washed over Bing, and he momentarily forgot about the man he was trying to intimidate. He stared at the woman at his side as if it was the first time he’d ever experienced her beauty.
Awestruck.
He paid dearly for his inattention, and the left hook that landed on his jaw blindsided him and knocked him straight onto his arse.
“Google that,” the man called Conrad spat, glaring down at Bing with prideful anger.
But Bing forgot all about him again, as Jane rushed to his side and gently cupped his already swelling jaw in her soft palm.
“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. Let me get something to put on that. Some ice maybe or—”
Bing was lost in her blue eyes but his brain finished her sentence with, “Your Lips.”
“I’m sorry? What did you say?”
Bing remained dumbstruck as he focused on Jane’s face and her striking eyes that were crinkled with worry.
I didn’t say anything, did I?
“Can you get up?” she asked sweetly, her voice laced with concern.
Clarity finally washed over Bing, and he pushed up to stand with Jane’s arm firmly wrapped around first his shoulders, and then his waist.
Her touch felt right, like she was meant to stand next to him. Like her body was made to be at his side as his equal.
“This wasn’t how I imagined talking with you for the first time,” Bing confessed in embarrassment.
Jane led him away from the front of the ballroom and out of the gaze of the many eyes that followed. They bypassed the foyer and went straight into the general manager’s office, which was thankfully empty. Jane continued to help him—even though he should have told her he was more than capable of walking unaided—until he was sat on a low leather sofa, and she was bent at the knees looking at his injured face. Bing supposed his pride should have felt wounded too, after all, he’d just taken a sucker punch and landed on his arse in front of a room full of the rich and wealthy, but with Jane before him and all her attention focused on him, he couldn’t find it in himself to care.
“I’d planned on asking you to dance with me,” he said absently as she ran her fingertips gently over his jaw.
Jane’s eyes flicked from his bruised face to his gaze, and she flushed slightly.
“I would have said yes,” she admitted softly.
“I wanted to talk with you about the work you do. I wanted to dance, talk, and then, at the end of the night ask for your number.”
The pink on her cheeks heated further.
“I would have given it to you.”
Bing smiled at her honesty, but the injury to his jaw turned it into a painful wince. Jane grimaced at his reaction before standing, the movement popping the bubble that had encased them for a moment.
“Let me get you some ice.”
She walked towards the door but not before stopping with her hand on the brass handle.
“Thank you for what you did in there. I want you to know that I’m not with Conrad, just in case you got the wrong idea. He’s with Lydia, and he was angry about what she… the song she…”
She didn’t finish her sentence, unable to voice how embarrassed she was about Lydia’s show.
Without saying any more, she quietly opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.
He watched the oak panel click shut behind her before replying, “Even if you were with him, I still would have asked for your number.”
Chapter Nine
Eliza paced the length of the ladies’ powder room, ignoring the stares from any female guests who came in to use the facilities.
One or two looked ready to approach her but thought better of it when they heard her muttering obscenities and threats under her breath.
Eliza was going to throttle Lydia. Then she was going to cut off her share of The Bennet Group dividends until she got her act together.
Eliza knew that Lydia had a very substantial personal allowance from her trust fund, but the loss of the additional millions would get the point across effectively—grow up or ship out.
On her umpteenth tour of the lavishly decorated amenities, the door opened and her long-time friend, Charlotte Lucas, entered on a mission.
�
��Eliza, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Charlotte exclaimed when she spotted her normally stoic friend wearing a path in the marble tiles.
Eliza stopped mid-step and spun on her heels to face her childhood friend.
“I would say it is good to see you, Charlie, but I’m about thirty seconds away from committing sororicide.”
Charlotte snorted in a very unladylike manner—one which her mother would be mortified to hear, but then she’d practically have a conniption if she heard the vulgar words that regularly came out of her daughter’s mouth—and came up to engulf Eliza with a hug.
“I would ask how you know the term for killing your sister, but I guess it’s from months of research. Horrible little wench needs a good slap.”
Eliza took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around her friend.
“You have no idea.”
Charlotte released Eliza enough to step back and look her friend in the eye.
“Somebody needs to get out there and quell the crowd’s fervour. Conrad just punched some random guy for interrupting him scolding Jane, and she’s disappeared to tend to the handsome stranger’s wounds.”
“What? Shit. Poor Jane, I didn’t even think what she’d have to deal with when I stormed out of there. Let me go and find her.”
“No,” Charlotte said emphatically. “What you need to do is temper the excitable guests. Aren’t you up next? You need to draw their attention away from your sisters and get this evening under control before it all goes to shit. I’m sure Jane would rather you’d tried to salvage the night and not give anyone any more to talk about.”
“I’m not entertaining those twits. They’ve had supper, a free show and a fight. They got their money’s worth.”
Eliza stepped out of Charlotte’s embrace, but her friend didn’t move, so she made to sidestep past her. Charlotte’s hand landed on Eliza’s arm halting her escape.
“Yes, they may have got their money’s worth, but the foundation hasn’t. Isn’t it the auction that brings in the most funds?”
Eliza closed her eyes, tipped her head back, and took a deep breath of the perfumed air. She’s right.
“You need to get out there, do your thing on the piano that’s set up waiting for you, and allow Jane time to get this evening under control. That’s how you ensure Lydia’s antics haven’t won, and Jane still gets to make this night at least a little successful.”
She’s right again.
“Dammit, Charlotte. Why couldn’t you be wrong for once in your life?”
Eliza looked at her friend who grinned wickedly at her before replying, “Because I’m absolutely fucking fabulous, dahling.”
Darcy sat back sipping his wine and avidly watched the most entertaining car crash he’d ever seen.
First Lydia’s spectacle, then Bing getting walloped—which Darcy almost got involved with, but it seemed his brother still managed to snag the girl— and now the Ice Princess was taking centre stage behind a baby grand piano while the room was still awash with frantic chatter and gossip.
This is going to be priceless.
Darcy sat forward in his seat with anticipation thrumming through his veins. He watched as Eliza closed her eyes and poised her elegant fingers above the keys.
At first, the crowd carried on regardless, paying little attention to the music as it began. The familiar chords of a melancholy tune fought for dominance with their voices until it built and grew into something that silenced the entire room.
Darcy found himself singing the words in his head before he’d even realised he knew song—Nobody said it was easy. He found himself standing, needing to move closer, wanting nothing to interrupt his view of Eliza as she lost herself to Coldplay’s, The Scientist.
Her fingers moved effortlessly over the keys even though her eyes remained closed. Her head angled slightly, tilting towards the sound and the invisible thread that connected her to the instrument.
She was magnificent.
Darcy found himself lost to the woman and the passion with which she played. When the music finished, he felt oddly bereft.
Muted applause followed Eliza as she left the stage without ever once addressing the audience, but her performance had done what she must have intended as the crowd had calmed and the previously frenetic atmosphere had smoothed out.
Jane approached her sister in the wings, and Darcy watched as they embraced. Their easy relationship felt familiar for it was what he had with his brother Bing.
As if just thinking of his brother had summoned him, Bing walked towards the sisters with purpose, and Darcy knew by the wrinkles in his brow that his brother had something important to say.
All it took was for Jane to slap a hand over her mouth in shock, and for Eliza to curl her fists, and he was there. Darcy’s feet carried him up onto the stage without hesitation.
“What’s wrong?” he asked Bing, but his eyes were locked on Eliza, her tight jaw and steely eyes doing nothing to impede her beauty.
Knock it off, Darce. She’s a spoiled brat. An Ice Princess.
“It’s Wick,” Bing finally replied.
“And Lydia,” Jane said through trembling lips.
Darcy shook his head in confusion. Wick didn’t know the younger Bennet sister, so he couldn’t see the problem, plus, he’d saw his brother no less than half hour ago.
“What about them? They don’t even know each other so how much of a problem can this actually be?”
Bing and Jane both looked like they didn’t know how to phrase their reply, each one looking at the other for moral support.
Bing works fast. I’m impressed.
“A shit ton,” Eliza exploded, her fiery gaze finally landed on Darcy and a spark of recognition lit her eyes before they narrowed even further.
“They’ve eloped. To goddamn Vegas of all places.”
Eloped? Vegas?
Darcy remained voiceless, his mind seduced by the piano playing temptress in front of him, muting the gravity of her words.
“Cat got your tongue, barfly?”
His eyes widened at the eldest Bennet sister. Her insult telling him that she hadn’t forgotten their brief interaction last week.
Her piercing gaze would cut most men to the quick, but it reignited a small spark inside Darcy that with very little kindling could well turn into a fire.
“Impossible,” he finally stated meeting her gaze head-on. “Wick doesn’t have enough money to get them to Vegas, even if that’s where they are supposedly heading.”
He stepped forward, all but blocking Bing and Jane out of the conversation.
“Whoever has fed you this information is yanking your chain, and doing so rather effectively, Princess.”
Eliza’s wide blue eyes narrowed into slits, and she too took a step forward.
“Your brother fed me the information, so why don’t you ask him to confirm his source. Or did you all conspire to set this up? You’ve just told us your brother is broke and Lydia is not.”
Eliza took another step forward until they were toe to toe and Darcy was forced to look down at her, once more fighting the urge to get lost in those striking eyes that likely caused many a man’s doom.
“Tell me, Mr Austen. Did you come here tonight under the collusion of bagging one of your ragtag brothers a rich wife?”
Darcy’s brain tripped, and his mouth opened to dispute her accusation, but the truth was he wouldn’t put anything past Wick. His brother was devious, single-minded and selfish. Then Darcy’s mind cleared. Even if Wick had come with the intention of wooing Lydia or any of the Bennets, it was utterly preposterous to assume that one brief meeting with the younger sister would end with an elopement.
“Let’s find out, shall we?” he challenged Eliza, her glare turning artic at the arch of his brow and barely concealed grin just daring her to lose her cool. “Because I think your theory is borderline insane, and when we disprove it, I can’t wait for you to apologise to myself and my brothers. Preferably in public, with an advert in t
he paper, or better yet—” his grin turned wicked “—I’d take another song. Maybe Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word.”
Eliza’s stunning eyes turned positively feral, and she enunciated every word through the grit of her teeth.
“When Hell freezes over.”
Darcy grinned, leaning closer to Eliza than ever before and replied, “I’m not afraid of a little frostbite.”
Chapter Ten
Lydia was lost in silence. The journey to the airport passed without any words exchanged between her and Wick. She had called her housekeeper, who in turn had made arrangements for The Bennet Group jet to be ready upon their arrival, but the plane could not depart for a further hour due to flight schedules.
Lydia was sure they would be followed once Eliza and Jane found out about her elopement, and while part of her eagerly anticipated the inevitable confrontation, a bigger part of her hoped they’d at least make it to Vegas before being accosted. It would be a real buzzkill to only get as far as the jet’s doors, and yet another example of her out-of-control ineptness that Eliza would take great glee in reminding her of again, and again, and again.
Lydia could hear it now— “She tried to elope once, you know. They didn’t even make it into the air. What a complete farce, but then again, that’s Lydia all over. She’s useless, even when she’s trying to rebel.”
Yeah, Lydia was determined to make it to Vegas.
She stared out of the car window at the dark night’s sky and swallowed down the tiny bit of shame she felt for ruining Jane’s night. Her gaze caught the reflection of a chiselled profile in the glass and Lydia lifted her eyes from the blackness outside to observe the stranger she’d brought along for the ride.
Wick Austen.
She’d Googled him not ten minutes ago, but not bothered to read what was written about him. Why pretend this was anything more than her getting what she wanted—and what she wanted more than anything was to see Eliza’s face when she finally found out the news.
Wick Austen was collateral damage.
Hot, tempting and possibly dangerous collateral damage, but Lydia never worried about consequences. Why should she?
