The Dating Mr Darcy Trilogy. Katie Oliver

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      Of course, Natalie reminded herself as she made her way unsteadily through the crowd, she hadn’t actually drunk the wine; she’d hurled most of it at Dominic.

      Too bad she’d missed.

      Natalie paused in the drawing room doorway. Her gaze swept past the clusters of elegantly-dressed people clutching glasses of champagne, intent on finding the door. The exit had to be around here somewhere.

      As she lifted her tissue – already soggy – and blew her nose, Natalie scowled.

      Bloody Dominic.

      This disaster of an evening was entirely his fault. After all, they’d come to Alastair’s party together. She’d even bought a new dress for the occasion. But she never imagined Dominic would dump her halfway through the party to announce his engagement…to his ex-wife.

      Natalie sniffed. She honestly didn’t give a fig if Dom and Keeley got back together again; they deserved each other. No, it was the public humiliation factor that upset her.

      She’d seen the furtive glances of surprise and pity cast her way when Dominic announced the engagement, not to mention Keeley’s smug little smile as she lifted her hand to show off the ginormous diamond ring glinting on her finger.

      Those glances of pity had stung. She didn’t want to be the girl everyone felt sorry for, the girl everyone whispered about.

      Not ever again.

      As everyone lifted their glasses to toast Dominic and Keeley’s happiness, Natalie’s humiliation curdled into fury. She hadn’t meant to fling her glass of Pinot Noir at that well-dressed bloke in the bespoke suit; she’d been aiming for Dom. But two glasses of wine drunk in quick succession had left her light-headed, furious…and her aim a bit off.

      Where in hell was the door?

      Ah, there it was. Lovely door, marvelous door! She’d leave here and…Natalie frowned. Well, with no money for a minicab, and no ride home forthcoming from Dominic, she’d figure that out when she left.

      Her hand closed over the doorknob, and she flung it open. Rows of coats hanging on wooden hangers met her gaze. Oops…not the front door, then, but the coat closet. She could’ve sworn…

      “Excuse me,” a male voice behind her asked in mild concern, “are you all right?”

      She whirled around – which, truthfully, didn’t help her spinning head – and snapped, “Of course I am. I’m fine.” She glared at him, and her heart sank. Those penetrating blue eyes…that expensive bespoke suit…

      Crikey. It was the bloke she’d just doused with Pinot Noir.

      “Your attempt to exit via the coat closet – not to mention the state of my shirt and tie—” he glanced down at the wine staining his front “—tells me that you’re far from all right.”

      “I told you, I’m sorry about your shirt,” she said stiffly. “I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning bill.”

      “That’s not necessary. Have you a ride home?”

      “No,” Natalie said. She narrowed her eyes as she glimpsed Dominic, holding court in the drawing room with his arm draped around his new fiancée’s shoulders. “Not any more.”

      He plucked the empty wine glass from her hand and put it on a passing tray. “Look, I have to leave. I find I need a change of clothes,” he added dryly. “I’ll give you a lift home if you like.”

      For the first time, she studied him. He had dark blondish hair and blue eyes, coupled with a rugged build and a lived-in sort of face. Not classically handsome, perhaps, but compelling, in a Daniel Craig-ish sort of way.

      Perhaps that’s why he seemed vaguely familiar.

      “I’d be happy to take you home, Natalie.”

      Ian Clarkson stood before her. Although married to her best friend Alexa, and darkly handsome, Ian always made her feel a tad uncomfortable. He’d made it clear he was interested in her, the cheating sod. He was definitely a wolf in posh clothing.

      “I’m taking her home.” Daniel Craig left no room for argument.

      “But Natalie doesn’t know you,” Ian challenged him, “does she?”

      Before hostilities could escalate further, Alastair James made his way towards them. “Natalie, darling, there you are! You’re not leaving, I hope?”

      “I’m afraid so.” She kissed his cheek. “Grandfather wants me at the board meeting tomorrow morning, God knows why. Congratulations, by the way! How has Cherie put up with you for so long?”

      He laughed. “I’ve no idea.” Still handsome despite the grey that peppered his dark hair, Alastair put his arm around Nat’s shoulders. “I’m glad you made it to our anniversary celebration. Ah, Mr. Gordon,” he added, and thrust out his free hand. “I see you’ve met my goddaughter.”

      “Wait – you two know each other?” Natalie said in surprise.

      “Only by reputation,” Alastair said, and raised his brow. “And quite a formidable reputation it is, too.”

      “Oh. Well, he’s offered to take me home.” Natalie regarded Alastair quizzically. “Should I accept?”

      His eyes met Gordon’s. “I’m sure I can trust you to see Sir Richard’s granddaughter safely home, Mr. Gordon?”

      “Of course,” he replied, and extended his hand to Alastair. “I’m a man of my word, if nothing else. Unlike some.”

      The smile he directed at Alastair, Natalie noticed, was chilly. Odd, that…but no one else seemed to pay any mind.

      “Congratulations, by the way,” Gordon added. “I apologise, but the state of my clothing prevents me from staying.”

      Alastair frowned. “Yes, Natalie, what happened? I’d no idea you and Dominic had parted ways.”

      “It was a…mutual decision.” She refused to cry over spilt wine; Dominic so wasn’t worth it. “I planned to break up with him after the party, but he dumped me first. I’ve apologised to Mr. Gordon for ruining his suit.”

      “No harm done. Are you ready?” Gordon asked her.

      She nodded. “Yes, let me just get my coat.”

      He put a hand on her back and guided her out through the crush of people. As he stopped to collect their coats, Natalie glimpsed Dominic halfway across the reception room, and he glanced over at them with narrowed eyes. She resisted the urge to flip him the bird.

      After all, one of them needed to be an adult. It might as well be her.

      Outside, Mr. Gordon gave the valet his keys and helped Natalie on with her coat. “How are you feeling?”

      “A bit dizzy,” she admitted.

      Five minutes later, the valet roared up on a gleaming Triumph Thunderbird СКАЧАТЬ