The Bachelors

by E. S. Carter

  Eliza saw before her a man enraptured, and a man unwilling to say sorry for feeling that way. She looked at his dishevelled hair and sleep-hazed face and decided that Bing Austen might just be one of the most honest and honourable men she’d ever met.

  “And I would never ask you to,” Eliza replied after a beat. “Now get dressed, the car is already waiting for us downstairs. Oh, and call your brother and tell him to meet us there, that’s if he’s not as pissed as a fart and flat on his back beneath Collins.”

  Eliza walked out of the room closing the door behind her and not bothering to wait for Bing to decipher her words.

  Collins Forster was a bastard of the highest order. Not only had he made Pemberley’s life hell and broke her heart, but he’d also done his damnedest to ruin Eliza’s friendship with her best friend. It wasn’t enough that he screwed any man that let him, he wanted to hurt Pembs in any way he could.

  Unluckily for Collins, Pemberley and Eliza’s friendship was made of stronger stuff than her marriage, and when the clandestine pictures of a drunk and partially clothed Eliza in Collins’ bed emerged, Pembs saw them for what they were—a last-ditch attempt by a mean and desperate man to manipulate her once more.

  Eliza Bennet wouldn’t piss on Collins Forster if he were on fire.

  He used her loyalty to Pembs against her and splashed her name in the tabloids, not only embarrassing Eliza but her father too. The man was a devious, manipulative shark and she shouldn’t have been surprised when Darcy Austen left with him a few hours ago, but she was. Yes, the man had proved himself to be antagonising, irritating and from a family with no breeding, but she hadn’t expected him to be enough of an idiot to fall into Collins’ trap.

  Well, good luck to him. Eliza hoped he enjoyed every second of being Forster’s bitch.

  “What are you doing?” Eliza asked Pembs when she came across her in the living room dressed like an Amazonian ready for battle. Pemberley wore skin tight leather-look leggings, black spike heeled boots, and an artfully slashed and pinned t-shirt that looked like it was scavenged from a bin but likely cost a small fortune in some designer store.

  “You didn’t think I’d miss out on all the fireworks, did you?” Pemberley’s eyes sparkled dangerously. “I haven’t seen you lose your shit in ages. I’d sell my firstborn to witness Lydia’s face when she sees you and the rest of your entourage.” Pemberley tightened the studded belt slung low around her hips. “The little wench deserves a good smack-down.” Pembs motioned to her attire and said with a cheeky wink, “I’m just dressed for the occasion, you know in case the paps arrive and I need to look like a badass.”

  Eliza rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide the smile threatening to break past her tightly pressed lips.

  “It’s The Mansion, there won’t be any paps, and you really don’t need to be caught up in this mess, Pembs.”

  “Who said anything about need? I want to be caught up in this. I also want to check out if the third brother is as hot as the other two. Collins has taken the shine off the older one for me, so I want to assess the baby brother’s level of hotness for when Lydia inevitably kicks his butt to the kerb. He might need a sugar-mama to help him lick his wounds.”

  Eliza flopped on the sofa next to her friend and pulled on the low-heeled Chanel boots Pembs had loaned her. Eliza had been in her gown for what felt like days, so the basic blue jeans and simple white shirt felt ridiculously comfortably in comparison, despite being a size too small for Eliza’s more generous curves.

  “You don’t do sloppy seconds, Pembs. You just want some free entertainment at my expense.”

  “At Lydia’s expense, my little Doo-Doo. Never yours,” Pembs corrected, coming to sit by her friend and wrapping her arm around her shoulder.

  “How come the delicious Darcy fell into Collins’ web of bullshit? I thought with the way he looks at you, you were finally about to get some hot man action instead of locking yourself in your office all bloody day long.”

  Eliza allowed herself to absorb the comfort of her friend’s embrace, choosing to ignore the question about the oldest Austen brother.

  “It’s not like you to have nothing to say?” Pembs pushed, unwilling to allow Eliza to lock away and hide her feelings like the girl she first met many years ago.

  Eliza sighed heavily before pulling away from her friend and standing.

  “I don’t have time to be psychoanalysed. We need to leave. Raul can only delay Lydia for so long.”

  Eliza power-walked to Bing’s bedroom door, then banged on it with her fist and yelled, “We’re leaving, if you’re not downstairs in two minutes you’re not coming.”

  As she walked back into the living area, Pemberley looked at her with both eyebrows raised.

  “You need to get laid,” she declared with a straight face, before scooping up her sunglasses and following Eliza out of the penthouse and into the private vestibule. She watched with fascination as her friend aggressively hit the call button for the elevator.

  “If you break my lift, I’m billing you.”

  Click, click, click, click, click. Eliza ignored her friend and continued her assault.

  “I’m serious, Doo-Doo, stop taking your sexually frustrated aggression out on my property. Do you know how long I had to wait for the last engineer to show up and repair this when it broke down?”

  Eliza turned her head and looked over her shoulder at her friend.

  “You mean the guy you shacked up with for a week afterwards? I’m sure if you’d let him escape from your bed you’d have had it fixed in a jiffy.”

  Pemberley grinned. Her eyes glinting devilishly as she remembered the smoking-hot elevator guy and his talented tongue.

  “True. That may have had something to do with it. Still, all the stair climbing combined with the one-to-one cardio he provided did wonders for my glutes.” She tapped her finger thoughtfully on her lips and encouraged, “Go ahead and click the shit out of that call button. You’ve just reminded me that tradesmen often have a great deal of stamina.”

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  “And you’re jealous.”

  Eliza turned her head back to the arriving elevator and replied tartly, “Of what? Being able to pee without burning. You can keep your whoring ways. I’m happy and healthier being frigid.”

  The doors opened with a ding and Eliza stepped onto the carriage before spinning around to face Pemberley with a sarcastic smile and another quip ready on her lips, but she fell silent when she came face to face with not only her friend but also Bing and Jane.

  She hid her embarrassment with a brusque, “So glad you could join us.” Then promptly stepped back to lean against the farthest wall.

  As Pemberley joined her, followed closely by Jane and Bing, Eliza held her hand up to her grinning friend to indicate that she didn’t want further discussions about her sexual health, and the trip to the ground floor was thankfully made in silence. Eliza didn’t miss the new development of Bing and Jane holding hands, and she was beyond happy for her sister. The middle Austen brother seemed like the perfect match for Jane, but that didn’t stop Eliza from wrapping her arms around herself despite the Vegas heat and trying to stave off the chill of loneliness that permeated her bones.

  The journey to The Mansion was less than twenty minutes. The heavy Las Vegas traffic only slowing them down a little and from the moment Eliza got the call about Lydia from Raul and Pemberley’s Bentley pulling up outside the villa where the newlyweds were staying, less than forty-five minutes had passed.

  Eliza didn’t wait to give anyone instructions, and no sooner than the car had pulled to a stop, she was out of the door and striding up the private walkway towards the villa that Raul had previously informed her was Lydia’s.

  “Car service,” Eliza shouted, not bothering to disguise her voice and banging both fists hard on the front door of the villa. Eliza—having stayed here as a guest many times before—knew that what she was doing was not how an employee of the hotel would be
have, but she was beyond caring. This charade would fool no one, but it would get Lydia to open the damned door.

  Less than a minute later, Eliza heard the others walking up behind her, but no one came to open the door.

  Getting frustrated, Eliza banged on the heavy wood door once more.

  “Lydia, open up the bloody door or I’ll get the master key and do it for you,” Eliza threatened.

  “Lize.” Jane came up behind her sister and comfortingly laid a hand her shoulder. “Let me.”

  Eliza stepped to the side, avoiding the lavish foliage offering the villa privacy, and with a sweep of her hand said to her sister, “Have at it. You may have more luck than me.”

  Jane lifted her delicate fist to the door and was about to knock when it abruptly swung open, and Lydia stood there looking radiant and exceptionally pleased with herself.

  “Why sisters,” she began almost regally. “How good of you to visit us on our honeymoon. Did you catch the announcement in The Times? I’m sure it was scheduled for today’s edition, or maybe it’s tomorrow?”

  Lydia over-exaggeratedly placed her pointer finger to her lips in thought. “Oh, I forgot. I didn’t announce it. Which begs the question, why are you here?”

  “Oh, Lydia,” Jane began sadly, but it was Eliza who stepped forward and met Lydia’s challenging gaze.

  “You know what,” Eliza said tiredly, suddenly overwhelmed with fatigue. “I’m not sure why we’re here. It all seems a little futile and a lot ridiculous.”

  She took another step forward until she was close enough to kiss her youngest sister on the cheek.

  “Congratulations, little Lydia. I wish you well in your life and your new marriage, but I’m done.”

  Eliza took a step back, and unable to keep the sadness from her eyes or halt the single tear that slipped down her cheek, added, “You’ve finally got your wish, Lydia. We’ve chased you half-way around the world. You got my attention, but now it’s time for you to deal with the fallout. Your dividends from TBG were frozen the second you commandeered the company jet.”

  Lydia opened her mouth to complain, and Eliza stopped her with an outstretched hand.

  “You’re hardly a pauper, Lydia. You have your allowance to fall back on, but as soon as your childish games threatened the financial security of the company, the board agreed it was time to cut you off.”

  Lydia’s mouth opened and closed like a fish on land gasping for air, and her hands bunched at her sides. She looked like she was torn between screaming or possibly throwing a punch.

  Eliza took one last look at her youngest sister, turned on her heel, and slowly walked back to Pemberley’s car.

  “Well, I wasn’t expecting that,” Pembs muttered loudly, gaining everyone’s attention bar Eliza’s. “A smackdown, some hair pulling and a little bitch slapping was, I felt, a given. Eliza finally washing her hands of the little Bennet trollop, nope, I didn’t see that coming.”

  Just as Pemberley was about to walk away and congratulate her friend on a punishment well-played, Wick Austen filled the doorway and looked out at the uninvited guests.

  “Bing, what the hell are you doing here?” he asked, his gaze flying from one person to another and settling on his brother before comically snapping back towards Pemberley.

  “Jesus Christ, you’re Pemberley Gardiner.”

  “I came to stop you from making a huge mistake,” Bing replied simply, ignoring Wick’s star struck performance and letting his eyes pass over Lydia and then back to Wick. “But it seems we are too late.”

  Bing stepped forward, took his younger brother’s hand in his and shook it.

  “Congratulations Wick. I’ll let you explain everything to mother and father in your own time, and I wanted to say I’m upset with you—” Bing’s eyes found Jane and then came back to rest on his brother’s face “—but I can’t because you’ve inadvertently been the catalyst for the best two days of my life.”

  Wick looked completely perplexed by Bing’s words, even as his brother took Jane’s hand in his and pulled her to his side to offer comfort.

  “So that’s it?” Lydia demanded, taking a step forward and aiming her glare on Jane because Eliza—her true target—had disappeared after dropping her bomb. “I get married, and you allow Eliza to ostracise me? What a gentle, loving and caring sister you turned out to be. I bet you couldn’t wait to see me tossed aside like yesterday’s trash.”

  “Don’t talk to your sister like that,” Bing interrupted, shaking his head sadly while tightening his hold on Jane. “I’ve only known her for two days, and I know she’s not capable of those things, so as her sister you should know better and treat her better.”

  Lydia’s eyes turned feral, and she stepped forward and sneered, “That’s right, you’ve known her two days. Good luck trying to get her to drop her knickers for you if that’s your angle. You’ll have to put a ring on it for that.”

  “Like Wick did to get into yours,” a masculine voice interrupted from behind Bing and Jane, and all eyes turned to look at the newcomer.

  Darcy looked a little rough around the edges and had a definite slur to his words, but his eyes were bright and focused on the newlyweds, and a broad smile filled his face.

  “You got your wish, little brother,” Darcy acknowledged with a nod towards Lydia. “Let’s hope whatever genie bottle you rubbed to find yourself wed to the female version of you, has a refund and return policy. Or else, you’re completely and utterly fucked.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Darcy had drunk far more than he’d intended and currently felt a little buzzed.

  He’d left Collins not long after their conversation about Eliza Bennet, unable to spend another minute in the pompous and egotistical man’s company. The alleged misdeeds of the ice princess sat heavy in Darcy’s gut, and he’d walked away from one bar, straight to another, where he’d proceeded to drown out his thoughts with cheap booze.

  Darcy knew Collins was likely a man not to be trusted, but his story came with additional evidence in the form of graphic photographs. Dozens upon dozens of grainy, out of focus, mobile phone pictures of the prickly ice princess in all her naked splendour.

  Darcy shouldn’t have looked—he wished he hadn’t—but the tale Collins wove seemed far too absurd to be true. The pictures, accompanied by many online articles seemed to confirm Collins’ version of events, and Darcy was disappointed to find out that the proud and aloof Miss Bennet had not only betrayed her best friend but done so with a man of such questionable morals—and married to boot.

  It didn’t fit what he knew about her, and yet he couldn’t defend her actions.

  Why he’d needed to wash away his disappointment with booze, was a question for another day—one where his brain wasn’t addled by alcohol and this ridiculous farce of Wick’s making was over.

  When the group had left Wick and Lydia and returned to Pemberley’s penthouse, Darcy observed Eliza Bennet through his critical, alcohol-fuelled, gaze. He watched as Pemberley first comforted her, then teased her, calling her ‘A badass to end all badasses’ and ‘The queen of kickarsery’. Why would a woman like Pemberley, a woman with literally the world at her feet, remain so close to a friend that stabbed her in the back?

  It didn’t make any sense to Darcy, and yet those photographs were imprinted on his brain.

  “Earth to Darcy.”

  Darcy stared out over the edge of the balcony terrace, his gaze running over the dusky Las Vegas vista laid out before him. From here everything looked so small, yet still vibrant, bustling and alive. It made him feel insignificant.

  “Darce, I’m talking to you.”

  Bing came up to Darcy’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder, finally gaining his brothers attention.

  “I’ve been calling you for the last few minutes, but you’ve been away with the fairies. We’re all going out, would you like to come?”

  Darcy blinked, taking one last mental snapshot of the view and then turned to face his younger brot
her.

  “No, I think I’m good. You guys go without me. I’m going to stay here, probably eat something and grab some sleep. Did Eliza or Jane say when we fly home or do I need to arrange something for the two of us?”

  “Nothing has been mentioned yet, but I don’t imagine they want to stay much longer. If we need to arrange our own flights home, I can pay you back when we’re in the U.K.”

  Bing dropped his gaze, embarrassment at being unable to afford the expense evident in his downcast eyes.

  “I’ve got it covered, no need to pay me back. It’s not like you planned a transatlantic trip,” Darcy offered, making light of the conversation.

  Bing squeezed his shoulder in silent thanks.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come? It’s probably our last night in Vegas, and I doubt I’ll ever get to come back. It could be fun.” A small smile filled Bing’s lips, and he raised his gaze to look at his brother. “Pemberley has got us tickets for some show Jane has always wanted to see. Best seats in the house, she said.”

  Darcy had a feeling that it wasn’t the chance to see a show that got Bing smiling that way, but more likely the opportunity to spend more time with Jane Bennet.

  “Nah, I’m good. You go, have fun with your girl. I’ll be here when you get back.” Darcy raised a hand to his head and scrunched his face. “Besides, I can feel a hangover coming on. Wick has a lot to answer for, the little shit.”

  Bing laughed, clapped Darcy across the back and replied, “Wick didn’t force you to down shots with an action movie star.”

  “Wanker.”

  “Cheers for that,” Bing snorted at the insult.

  “Not you, Collins Forster. The man is an utter wanker.”

  “Next you’re going to tell me that Santa is an arsehole. You can’t call him that, the man is a legend. Don’t taint the Extinguish movies for me by defaming the hero.”

  “He’s right,” Pemberley’s voice came from directly behind them, and the brothers turned as one to watch her approach. Pemberley Gardiner was undoubtedly a stunningly attractive woman, and it felt somewhat absurd to Darcy that he was stood within five feet of her, let alone the fact he was staying in her home.