The Dating Mr Darcy Trilogy. Katie Oliver

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СКАЧАТЬ fucking idiot for ever getting involved with her.” Rhys slammed his locker shut. “Have time for a coffee before I go to work?”

      “Sure.” Ben dropped the subject of Caterina. He and Rhys had known each other a long time, but even best mates didn’t talk much about their relationships. They shared a drunken regret or two over a pint, and never spoke of it again.

      As they left the squash courts and emerged onto the street, they passed a newsstand. Photos of Rhys and Natalie Dashwood featured prominently on most of them.

      “Well, you and Natalie Dashwood are certainly popular with the paparazzi these days,” Ben remarked, and smirked. “Sorry, but I have to ask. Are you two really—”

      “Sleeping together?” Rhys finished tersely. “No.” He thought of Natalie, wearing a T-shirt that barely covered her bum, and shoved the image resolutely aside. “Sir Richard and Natalie are clients. And I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

      Ben grinned. “Maybe you should. You know what they say…all work and no play—”

      “—makes Ben a dead man, if he doesn’t shut the hell up,” Rhys retorted.

      Ben followed Rhys into the coffee shop. “Are you bringing a plus one to the wedding?” he asked as they took their cups and sat down.

      “No.”

      “Why not bring Natalie?”

      “And give the tabloids more fodder for speculation?” Rhys said, and sipped his espresso. “No, thanks.”

      “Isn’t that what you want? It’s more publicity for the store. Besides, you like her, I know you do—”

      “Miss Dashwood is spoilt and selfish and has no concept of what it’s like to do without. I’m sure she thinks ‘austerity’ is a clothing label. And even if I were – hypothetically speaking – attracted to her, a relationship between us simply can’t happen. Natalie works for me, or will do soon, and Sir Richard – her grandfather – is a client.”

      “So? Plenty of girls marry their bosses.”

      “Fuck me! Who said anything about marriage?” Rhys glared at him. “Drop it, Ben, or I won’t come to your bloody wedding at all.”

      “Just think about it,” Ben said, unfazed by Rhys’s outburst. “That’s all. You’re only inviting her to a wedding, not proposing. Now – more importantly,” he added, and leaned forward, “when can we schedule a rematch? Because I’m wiping the floor with your arse next time.”

      Natalie plunked her bag on the counter and frowned. “Declined? That’s impossible. Run it through again. Must be some sort of a-a credit glitch thingy.”

      The clerk handed her card back. “There’s no mistake, madam. Your credit has not only been declined, the account’s closed out.”

      “Closed out?” Natalie knew she sounded like a demented parrot, but what was going on? “That’s impossible! I’m Natalie Dashwood. My family own Dashwood and James department stores.”

      “I’m sorry,” the clerk said firmly. “Now if you’ll excuse me—” she reached out to take the cocktail dress Natalie held, ready to whisk it behind the counter “—I’ll return this to the floor.”

      Natalie clutched the hanger more tightly. She’d searched everywhere for the perfect dress to wear to Caro’s wedding; the violet silk dress was divine, and she wasn’t about to let it go. “Wait! Here—” she reached in her purse and scrabbled until she found another card “—try this one.”

      The clerk took it, her patience rapidly diminishing, and swiped it through the machine. She looked at Natalie with a chilly smile and handed the card back. “Declined. And closed. Sorry.” She snatched the dress.

      Natalie knew she wasn’t sorry, not one bit. The rude cow.

      Caroline reappeared next to her, a look of concern etched on her face. “Is there a problem, Nat?”

      “My cards have all been declined!”

      “Is your credit maxed out?”

      “No!” Natalie fumed. “At least…I don’t think so. Well, perhaps,” she admitted, remembering the designer dresses she’d bought for Tark’s wedding. Not to mention that Waterford chandelier… “But that’s not the problem – the accounts have been closed! On all of my cards.”

      The ladies behind them in line edged away from Natalie as though she had a rare – and highly contagious – retail disease.

      “Oh, Caro – this means I can’t buy your gown!” Natalie’s eyes welled with tears. “Your beautiful, perfect wedding gown—”

      Caroline slipped an arm around her shoulders. “It’s OK, Natty, it’s only a dress,” she soothed. “I’ll find something off the rack, don’t worry.” She glared at the clerk. “Probably cost much less, too.”

      “I’m such a numpty,” Natalie mumbled, and turned away to hide the tears spilling down her cheeks. “Everything I do turns into a disaster.”

      “Nat, that’s not true!” Caroline looked at her in surprise and pulled her aside. “What makes you say such a thing?”

      “It is true! Look at my relationship with Dominic – he cheated on me with his ex-wife, and he’s marrying her again – today! Not that I give a toss, honestly – but I hate being the object of everyone’s pity. My credit’s a disaster. I have no career, I can’t remember to put petrol in my car, and it’s all over the tabloids that I’m having an affair with R-Rhys Gordon—”

      “Yes, I saw the article in the Daily Mail.”

      “Even grandfather had a go at me,” Natalie went on. “He ordered me to find a job, and a ‘more suitable young man.’ Of course he meant I should get married, to some doddering old viscount, no doubt. He disapproves of my ‘bohemian lifestyle’.”

      “Well, Nat, he has a point. You haven’t done much of anything since you took up with Dominic. Why is that?”

      “I thought we’d get married, eventually,” Natalie said defensively. “And I liked touring with him and the boys. It was a lark! I couldn’t have done that if I’d had a job.”

      “Right, so you put your life on hold for two years for that half-baked rocker,” Caro said, disapproval plain in her voice. “Oh, well, Dominic is about to become Keeley’s problem now, till death do them part.”

      “I wasn’t invited to the wedding.”

      Caroline took her arm and drew her out of the shop. “Why would you even want to go? You’re well shed of him, Natty.”

      “I know that. And I don’t want to go. It just hurts a bit to be excluded, that’s all. We were together for longer than two years, you know.”

      It was true. They’d practically grown up together in Warwickshire. But of course, Dom was a different person then…

      …a very different person.

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