The Dating Mr Darcy Trilogy. Katie Oliver

as she unlocked the Peugeot. She had to put that fifty quid back in the cash box before someone noticed it was missing…

      “Natalie! Wait up.”

      She looked up to see Jamie Gordon coming towards her. “Jamie! I didn’t expect to see you lurking around out here.”

      “I didn’t expect to see you, either. I thought you’d be spending the night with Rhys.”

      She was glad the darkness hid her blush. “Well, you needn’t worry, I’m not staying over.”

      “Oh. Sorry. But not as sorry as Rhys, I imagine.” He raised an eyebrow. “Fancy a pint before last call? We didn’t get much of a chance to talk, before.”

      “Well…OK. Sure. Orange squash for me, though,” she said as she re-locked the car. “I’m driving home.”

      “If you don’t mind my asking, why aren’t you staying?” Jamie ventured when they’d seated themselves and he returned with their drinks. “I know it’s none of my business—”

      “It’s OK.” She hesitated. “We had a row. There’s something I need to tell him, but…I can’t. I don’t know how he might react. His temper—”

      “Yeah, he does have a temper,” Jamie admitted, and sipped his lager. “Our dad drank, a lot. Some people drink and get happy. But whiskey only made the old man mean. He was hit head-on by a lorry one night, walking home from the pub. For some reason, he was walking in the road. The lorry driver didn’t see him until it was too late. Killed dad instantly.”

      Natalie looked at him in mingled shock and dismay. “How awful! I’m sorry.”

      Jamie shrugged. “Trust me, it was the best thing that could’ve happened. He couldn’t beat our mam any longer.”

      Her eyes widened. “Did he ever hit you or Rhys?”

      “He had a go at Rhys once. Rhys knocked him down and pummeled him until mum and one of the neighbours dragged him off. That’s how his nose got broken.” He glanced at her. “Told you it was an old football injury, did he?”

      Natalie nodded slowly. That was exactly what he’d said.

      “Rhys lets off steam on the squash court. And he has a right temper. But there’s no one I’d rather have in my corner.”

      “He said he left home at seventeen.”

      “Yeah, after dad died, he got a job in Hoxton. He busted his ass to support us; dad was always skint. Mum and me wouldn’t have made it without the money Rhys sent home. He put me through culinary school.” Jamie drained his beer. “He’s an arsehole sometimes. But he’s always had my back.”

      “He doesn’t talk much about himself.”

      “He won’t. He doesn’t like to remember those days.” He leaned forward. “Rhys is no saint. But he’s not bad, as brothers go. You could do a lot worse.”

      “I’m sure he’d say the same about you.”

      “I doubt it,” Jamie said, and grinned as he stood up. “It’s getting late, you’d best head home. And Natalie?”

      “Yes?”

      “Whatever it is that’s on your mind, tell him,” he advised. “I know he’ll do whatever he can to help you.”

      Natalie had her doubts, but she nodded. “I will. I just need to find the right time.”

      “Don’t leave it too long.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “It was great to meet you.”

      “You, too. Thanks for the drink and the advice.”

      They said goodnight and Natalie returned to her car and drove home. As she inserted her key and swung the door open twenty minutes later, wondering if mum might loan her fifty quid, she froze. Wreaths of cigarette smoke drifted towards her from the sitting room, and the TV blared.

      Her hand tightened on the doorknob. Ian smoked. She’d seen him before, having a quick, furtive cigarette standing at the back entrance to the store.

      Oh, God – what if he’d got in her flat somehow?

      No, that was ludicrous…

      “Nat!” Dominic’s voice bellowed out from the lounge. “Is that you?”

      Her relief quickly turned to fury as she dropped her handbag on a chair and rounded on him. “You scared the crap out of me, Dom! What are you doing here? And give me back your key!”

      “All right, shit. Here.” He rummaged in his pockets and extracted the spare key from his wallet and handed it to her.

      “I don’t suppose you could loan me fifty quid?” Nat asked him. “I’ll pay you back.” Just as soon as I borrow it from mum, that is…

      “Yeah, sure.” He pulled a wad of cash out and peeled off three fifty-pound notes.

      Natalie stared at him. “Dom, that’s a hundred and fifty quid! I only need fifty.”

      He shrugged and handed it to her. “Keep it. I’ve plenty of dosh. I just got my first cheque from Maison Laroche. By the way,” he added as he put his wallet away, “where’ve you been? I thought you’d never get back.”

      “Thanks,” she said as she tucked the money in her pocket. “Never mind me, what are you doing here?” She narrowed her eyes. “That better not be a spliff—”

      “It’s not.” Dominic squashed out the cigarette. “He knows, Nat,” he said in a rush as he perched at one end of the sofa. “Klaus knows who I am.”

      Natalie blinked. “What? But…no one knows who you are but me! And your family,” she amended. “How did he find out?”

      “He’s got someone on retainer to dig stuff up. Insurance, he calls it,” Dominic said bitterly. “He knows everything, Nat – my real name, where I was born, all of it. He says he’ll go to the tabs if I don’t cooperate.”

      “For heaven’s sake, Dom, being the son of an earl is nothing to be ashamed of—”

      “It is when your fans think you’re a working-class kid from a council estate in Swindon,” he said flatly.

      “True,” she admitted. She sank down on the sofa next to him. “What about your father? Does he know?”

      Dominic shook his head. “If this comes out, he’ll disown me. He has nothing but contempt for my music career.” He scowled. “Not that I give a toss about inheriting the title. I don’t. I just…” He looked at her, his expression subdued. “I just wish he approved of me, at least a bit. You know?”

      “Oh, Dominic,” Natalie said softly, “I’m sure he does. You’re his son, after all! He’s just…disappointed you didn’t follow his example.”

      “Right.” Dominic let out a mirthless laugh. “Can you see me as lord of the manor, a glass of sherry in one hand and a dead pheasant in the other? I can’t do it, Nat. That’s my father’s thing. And me? I’m his biggest disappointment.”

      Natalie patted his knee. “I’m sure you’re wrong.”

      “I’m not.” He leaned forward and took her hand. “God, I miss you, Nat. We were good together, weren’t we?”

      “No! We were a disaster.” She yanked her hand away. “You treated me like crap, and you cheated on me—”

      “I was a berk,” he admitted. He grinned. “But you have to admit, the make-up sex was pretty spectacular.”

      “Tea,” Natalie said hastily, and stood. “We need tea.”

      In the kitchen she plugged in the kettle and plunked tea bags into two cups – Dominic’s with two sugars, lemon, no milk — and returned to the lounge.