Page 73 of Her Whole Heart
The colonel glowered.
“Fear not, Bingley,” Milton said, leaning back in a chair and crossing his legs. “We are here to assist. What did Miss Bennet say?”
Darcy placed his cue back in the rack. “Gentlemen, Bingley clearly has come to speak with me, not open himself to your questionable counsel.”
“He seems to have partaken of some questionable counsel already,” Fitz jibed.
“Pleasse,” Bingley moaned. “I have to win her back. She doess not think I am ssstrong enufff.”
“Ah,” Darcy said, everything becoming suddenly clear. “Your sisters warned Miss Bennet off, then?”
“Worsse. Sshe overheard heard them inssult her and I did not resspond, jusst let them talk.”
“Definitely an error on your part,” Milton said, and Fitz nodded in agreement.
“How did you know?” Bingley asked, holding his head in his hands. For a moment, Darcy was afraid Bingley was going to be unwell all over his floor, but then his friend craned his neck to look up at him and repeated, “Darsssy? How did you know?”
This time, all three men chuckled. “It is not difficult to divine,” Fitz said. “You roll over like a log in a flooded river whenever they are about. No woman wants to be with a man like that.”
“But they make it ssooo hard. Ssooo angry. I juss let them talk and then do what I will.”
“Bingley,” Darcy protested mildly. “That is not precisely true, is it? You give them their way with great regularity. We have spoken about this in the past.”
“Bingley,” Milton said, contemplating his brandy, “you must stand tall, like a tree that has some actual roots. It is your household, is it not?”
“Hursst. Hiss housse.”
“Well, there is your first problem,” Milton said with a nod.
Darcy agreed. “You need to leave Hurst’s house and lease a place of your own, somewhere a woman could see herself living when in town. Even if you lease a different home every year, a woman who is considering whether to marry a man should have a place where she is mistress. You cannot expect her to fight for the privilege that ought to be hers by right.”
Bingley swayed a bit. “House first?”
“That would be my advice, yes,” Milton said.
“And once he has a house, he will need to stand up to his sisters in some dramatic fashion,” Fitz said.
“He is not to stand up before he has a plan of escape?” Darcy asked, amused.
“A good soldier plans every detail before engaging the enemy, including retreat,” Fitz replied with a mischievous smile.
“How do I do it?” Bingley asked breathlessly. His eyes were wide, and they were trained on Fitz.
Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Perhaps this ought to wait until you are sober, Bingley.”
As if on cue, a maid came in with the coffee, poured out a cup for Bingley, and then waited to see whether any of the other men wished for one. Darcy shook his head at her, and she hurried out.
“Drink your coffee, Bingley,” Darcy instructed.
“Yes, and while you do that, please attend,” Milton said, waving his hand as though tapping the table with a pointer.
Milton could be rather theatrical when the situation offered itself, but it was always entertaining. Darcy found a seat and made himself comfortable.
“The first step,” the viscount said, “is to master the art of the stern gaze. Darcy is an artist in this regard. Observe.” He took a dozen mincing steps in Darcy’s direction and then whirled and bent over at the waist, flipping up his tailcoat and offering Darcy a full view of Milton’s skinny arse.
Darcy growled.
Fitz laughed. “There—that is it, the look! Do you see, Bingley?”
