Compulsively Mr. Darcy

by Nina Benneton

  “Are you almost done? You’ve been there over three hours. It’s getting late.”

  She ignored the worried note, closed her eyes, and savored her husband’s sexy accent.

  “Elizabeth, are you there?”

  “Hmmm, yes. I was just thinking how sexy you sound.”

  “Don’t change the subject. I don’t want you on your feet for too long. The OB said two hours a day.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m leaving now. Are you back home from Los Angeles?”

  “Unfortunately, no. I’m stuck here twenty-four seven for now. Why don’t you have one of the sisters come and stay with you until I get back?”

  “Mary and Jane just left to… uh… they’re out of town.” She cringed, remembering. Before her husband started asking questions, she added, “I’m not alone; Georgiana’s staying over tonight. Besides, there are so many bodyguards around I can’t even sneeze without them reporting to you.”

  “I need to have you safe.” His voice was full of guilt. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay, love. You know I don’t mind the security. I’m just hormonal.” Hiding his sister’s situation from him stressed her more than she wanted to admit. While she missed him, his unexpected business trip to Los Angeles the day before was fortuitous timing.

  “I miss my hormonal wife.”

  “Better stay away from all those skinny LA actresses or I’ll come down there and scratch their eyes out,” she teased.

  Her husband laughed. “I love you, my little jealous wife.”

  “Speaking of actresses, Lydia is down there in Hollywood with my mom—”

  “I have to go, love. I’ll call later,” her husband abruptly interrupted and ended the conversation.

  ***

  Lydia glanced at her backside in the mirror of the hotel’s lobby. Satisfied her cheerleading skirt showed enough but not too much, she continued toward the rehearsal room. She spent a few delicious moments imagining the jealous look on her sister Kitty’s face watching Lydia on TV doing a cheerleading routine. Kitty had been impossible lately, complaining all the time to their parents that Lydia’s being on a TV show had taken attention from Kitty’s graduating magna cum laude from Stanford.

  When Lydia entered the rehearsal room, a man with a baby face smiled at her. “Rehearsal won’t start for a while. Nothing to do but sit and wait. Welcome to showbiz! There’s no business like show business!” He frowned when she didn’t join in his lame singing. “Are you sure you’re old enough to be in this show?”

  “I’m sixteen,” she said.

  Her friend Ashley had some difficulty getting permission from her uncle to be in the show before succeeding, but Lydia had no problems with her parents. Her mother was excited by her opportunity and her father simply muttered something about the failure of feminism. Only Lizzy openly objected, raising a stink and throwing a temper tantrum about the evil of reality TV shows, but she was pregnant and hormonal and everyone—except her husband—thought she was overreacting, so she was ignored.

  “Where are you from?” Without waiting for an answer, baby-face began to talk about his previous reality show. She tried to appear interested, but after a while, she wondered if all Hollywood people were this boring. Luckily, other cheerleaders began to arrive and the man had new audiences to bore.

  Ashley arrived with Ury, the producer of the show. “There’s Lydia. I told you she’d be early. She takes cheerleading very seriously.”

  Ury winked at Lydia. “And that’s why we wanted her as a contestant on our show. She’s got great kicking legs.”

  Ashley pouted. “What about me? Why do you want me?”

  Ury turned and whispered something in her ear.

  Watching them, Lydia’s insides felt queasy, just as she had this morning, when she had overextended herself too far forward during the arabesque foldout routine and she lost her balance.

  When Ury moved off to talk to a production assistant, Ashley said to Lydia, “Ury thinks you and I could use some extra private coaching to appear more natural on camera. Aren’t we lucky, Lydia? He’s giving us personal attention.”

  ***

  Unable to sleep, Darcy sighed and got out of bed. He walked over to the sink. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed what he suspected. He looked guilty. He hated sleeping away from his wife and he hated keeping secrets from her. Yesterday, when she mentioned Lydia and her mother being in Hollywood, he had to cut short their phone call.

  When he saw his hands red and wrinkled, he forced himself to stop and return to bed. He might as well get an hour or two of sleep before meeting with Colonel Brandon and the FBI.

  Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine his wife next to him in bed.

  The phone rang just as he drifted off. He jerked awake. His heart skipped. It was her ring tone. This was too early in the morning for her to be calling. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, except I miss you like crazy and wanted to hear your voice,” Elizabeth said. “I knew you were probably awake, worrying and obsessing about something trivial, so I decided to call you. Did I wake you?”

  “No, I’ve been up.” He relaxed. His wife’s teasing voice was exactly what he needed to hear.

  “You’re up, already? I miss that.”

  “No, I wasn’t”—the image of Elizabeth in their bed at home made his voice lower—“but I’m starting.”

  “Hmmmmmm.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Rubbing my tummy.”

  His fingers stretched, wanting the tactile connection to his babies. “Are they kicking?”

  “No, they’re quiet for now.”

  When no further sounds came through, he asked, “Are you still rubbing?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “How about moving your hand up to one of those scrumptious breasts, the right one, and squeeze it gently for me.” He heard background noises crinkle through the connection when she put the phone on speaker. “Are you naked?”

  “No. I’m wearing one of your old T-shirts. I can smell you on it.”

  “Take it off.”

  “Okay, it’s off.” Her voice sounded breathless now. “You put yours on speaker too.”

  “No, I want to focus on you.” He ignored the tenting of his sheet and tugged at his pajama bottoms.

  “Uh-uh! I want us together.”

  He lifted the sheet aside.

  “Your pajama bottoms too.”

  He smiled at the bossy tone and undressed. Immediately, cool arousing air brushed against him.

  “Ahhhh!” Her satisfied sigh came through the speaker.

  “What? You started without me?”

  “No, not yet. I was thinking of your naked body and your hard cock.”

  For a woman who was a virgin until a few short months ago, his wife was uninhibited and adventurous in the bedroom. Occasionally, she liked to talk dirty during sex, mostly to shock him. “Are both your hands on your breasts now?”

  “Yes. I want you between my tits,” she moaned.

  He squeezed his eyes shut at what her words had conjured. “I don’t think it would be a safe position for me right now, on your tummy.”

  “It’s phone sex. We can have any position we want. Pretend we’re circus performers with flexible and weightless bodies.” She purred, “Let my breasts stroke you.”

  He reached one hand down and stroked himself.

  “I feel your balls hitting against the bottom of my breasts.”

  His other hand reached down and caressed.

  “I’m lifting up my head and sucking at your tip.”

  His thumb moved up to rub his tip.

  “I’m sucking and squeezing. I’m swirling my tongue around your tip. My hands are squeezing your tight ass. Rub harder, faster between my tits.”

  His hands madly rubbed and stroked.

  “Fuck my tits harder!” she barked.

  Head thrown back, his chest arched and his hips cranked.

  “I’m sucking you hard. Come into my mo
uth!”

  Wrapped in her moist, hot mouth, he exploded with a loud howl. Breathing hard and deep, he gulped air to recover from the force of his orgasm.

  His wife gave a delighted, satisfied giggle through the speaker.

  “You naughty girl,” he scolded when his breathing normalized. “I was in charge starting out.”

  “Are you complaining?”

  “No, on the contrary. But what happened to ‘together’?”

  “A bit awkward to maneuver around my large stomach.”

  “I shall pay my debt in person then.”

  “You bet your sweet ass I’ll make you,” she laughed.

  At the sound of happiness in his wife’s voice, his throat tightened at his good fortune. “I’m a lucky dog, Mrs. Darcy.”

  “I love you too, Mr. Darcy.”

  They talked a few more minutes, but then she suddenly had to ring off just as he was asking where Mary and Jane had gone.

  CHAPTER 38

  Mistaken Identity

  The New York City yellow cab slowed down and the driver looked for a spot to stop. Jane checked her makeup one more time. Mary chuckled. Blushing, Jane snapped it shut.

  Once on the sidewalk, Mary said, “Don’t be embarrassed. You’re supposed to be alluring.”

  “I’m only following orders. This is so out of my comfort zone. I can’t believe I let you and Lizzy talk me into this.”

  “You’ll do fine.”

  “Easy for you to say. Why am I the one who has to distract him?”

  “Because we wouldn’t have any success at all if I was the one doing it,” Mary returned calmly. “As Mom always says, you couldn’t have been born that beautiful for nothing.”

  “Very funny. I wish Lizzy or Lydia could take my place in this caper. They’d definitely think it’s a lark.”

  “Lizzy is too big, too pregnant, too married, and Lydia is too silly, too young, and too unpredictable. Besides, she’s in Hollywood with mom. It’s you and me, partner.” When Jane didn’t respond, Mary added, “Think of Georgiana; we’re doing this for her.”

  That was the one reason why, dismissing all rational reasons why it wouldn’t work, Jane had agreed to the crazy scheme. Yesterday, Georgiana told them she had received another email from the blackmailer on Monday. Within hours, Mary discovered the email was sent from a computer with an Internet protocol address registered to DDF. Jane didn’t even want to know how Mary had figured that out, though Jane suspected it involved some of her genius sister’s computer hacker friends.

  They approached a building with DDF on the front. Mary said, “This is it. You go and distract Peter Pan, get his permission, and I’ll do the rest.”

  “Are you sure this plan is going to fly?”

  “Relax. It’s a simple plan.” Mary paused right outside the entrance and flicked her fingers over Jane’s face. “There. You have some pixie dust. That’s a must,” she sang softly as she pushed Jane through the door. “Just remember, Wendy, ‘You can fly! You can fly! You can fly!’”

  Somehow, in the face of her sister’s supreme confidence and silliness in singing the Disney movie song, Jane’s nervousness lessened. Giving their names as Tina and Wendy Darling, they had called DDF and asked if Mr. Bingley was free to talk about the orphanage in Zambia. Elizabeth didn’t want someone to recognize the name Bennet.

  “We have to be suspicious of everyone. Charles or even Richard might be the blackmailer,” Elizabeth had said when she suggested they use aliases. “After all, who would have thought Georgiana’s blackmailer would be someone from DDF? The only person from DDF we can be certain to rule out is William. You’ll start at the executive floor.”

  Though Jane had privately wondered if some of her brother-in-law’s paranoid quirks were beginning to rub off on his wife, Jane had to agree with Elizabeth’s caution. Jane had suggested telling her brother-in-law, currently in LA on some business, but everyone vetoed that.

  In the elevator, alone with Mary, on the way to the executive floor, Jane said, “Are you sure this isn’t illegal?”

  “Of course it’s illegal.”

  Stunned by her sister’s calm answer, Jane said, “William could—”

  “Yes, he could. But by the time he gets back here, whoever it is will have changed the Internet protocol addresses,” Mary said. “For security reasons, companies change their executives’ IP addresses frequently. That’s why we had to get here pronto, incognito, and unannounced, so we have a better chance to catch the blackmailer before the IP address changes.”

  “William may be owner and head of DDF, but he has a board of directors who—”

  “Wouldn’t look kindly upon his sisters-in-law hacking into the company’s computer system, I know. But then, one of them might be the blackmailer,” Mary interrupted again in her maddeningly even voice. “If it makes you feel better, Georgiana is part owner of the company and she gave us permission, so technically, it’s not breaking or entering.”

  “Tell that to the judge!”

  “You go and do your Mata Hari thing. I’ll be flitting around stealing shadows.”

  ***

  Bingley took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Before his next appointment, he decided he needed a little pick-me-up. He skulked to the closet where he kept a secret stash. Just another small sip, he told himself. He reached for the bottle on the high shelf. His fingers curved around a two-litter bottle.

  The door opened. “Mr. Bingley, Miss Wendy Darling and Miss Tina Darling are here.”

  Startled, he turned and accidentally knocked the two-liter bottle down. The lid popped off and Mountain Dew doused him.

  “Mr. Bingley, you did it again,” his secretary said in an exasperated voice. She grabbed some paper towels off a nearby counter. “You’re supposed to be off sugar and caffeine.”

  “Are you okay?” Jane Bennet’s angelic voice asked. “Here, let me help you.” She took the paper towels from his secretary’s hand and started to pat his face and his shirt.

  He opened one eye and waved his secretary off.

  Jane apologized, “We didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “No, I was careless. How are you? How is your sister Elizabeth?” He had heard all about Elizabeth ad nauseam from Darcy daily, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say at the moment. “Do you have sisters name Wendy and Tina I didn’t know about?”

  “No.” She blushed. “I’m… uh… called Wendy sometimes. My sister Mary… uh… I mean Tina… I mean Mary is here with me.”

  He looked. Tina-Mary was at his desk, touching his computer. “Do you mind if I check my emails?” she asked while her fingers moved rapidly on the keyboard.

  “Sure.” As long as her angelic sister was ministering to him, he didn’t care what Tina-Mary wanted to do in his office. He turned to Jane-Wendy. “How long are you staying in New York?”

  “A few days. I was wondering if we could talk about your experience in Zambia. Compare notes on orphanages?”

  Happily, he nodded. “Yes, we should. We didn’t get a chance to at the wedding. Perhaps we can go for a cup of decaf coffee?”

  Jane-Wendy smiled. “I’d love to.”

  Tina-Mary, still fiddling with his computer, spoke up. “I don’t do coffee. I’ll work on my emails here while you guys go off. I might wander around a bit if that’s all right with you, Peter… I mean, Charles.”

  “Uh… sure, of course.” He had no idea what she had just said, something about wandering and emails. His angel’s soft smile distracted him.

  ***

  Richard walked into his office and stopped short.

  Mary Bennet was sitting at his desk smirking. “My brother-in-law knows you spend your working hours looking at porn? It’s not even good porn. You can see more skin than this on TV.”

  “Do you mind? This is private!” He wondered how he got so careless and left the porn site on.

  “You didn’t leave it on.” She read his mind. “I hacked into it.”

  “You… you… you
!”

  She ignored his stuttering, took a pencil from his desk, and tapped it, a thoughtful look on her face.

  He sighed and sat across the desk. “Why are you here on a Wednesday afternoon, bothering me? Aren’t you back in school?”

  She took out her cell phone. “It’s me. We’re here and the two men are clear. At least their computers are.” She gave him a sly glance. “Just some boring smut, but nothing exciting or incriminating.”

  “What the hell? Who is that?”

  “Okay, I’ll clue him in.” She hung up and in a surprisingly calm voice, told him about Georgiana’s being blackmailed, ending with, “And we can’t let William know yet because both his wife and sister are afraid he’ll freak and put them both in bubble wrap.”

  He opened his mouth, only to close it immediately. She was right. Darcy would freak.

  She said, “I need to get access to your IP log. I prefer not to have to look through it to find the match, though. Lizzy has a suspect in mind already, but she won’t tell. She doesn’t want us to zero in on one person and miss others.”

  “This is not a game!” He grabbed his phone. “She damn well better tell me who—”

  “She said to ask you why Wickham would have Georgiana invite you, her cousin and co-guardian, to her mass wedding.”

  “I don’t know.” Surprised at the question, he put the phone down. Cousin! He stood. “Damn it! I know who!”

  “Who?”

  “Mistaken Identity.” His brain clicked through the clues. “Could Wickham have meant Anne and Georgiana thought he meant me? It’s so obvious. I can’t believe I missed the connection.”

  “You’re saying you’re suspecting Anne and Georgiana’s cult-boyfriend worked together?”

  “Yes, and Catherine.”

  “The aunt?”

  Richard paced, thinking out loud. “My uncle’s will left Catherine with no real power over Pemberley Trust Foundation or DDF, but most importantly, no guardianship of little Georgiana, as Catherine had expected. When Darcy named me co-guardian instead of her, she threatened an ugly custody fight.”

  “I’m beginning to see…”

  “She had a good chance of winning custody. Darcy’s tabloid behavior after his father died didn’t help him. He sobered up and stopped partying. But she held that threat of a public custody fight over them throughout the years. Georgiana would have been traumatized.”