Eliza paced the length of the ladies’ powder room, ignoring the stares from any female guests who came in to use the facilities.

One or two looked ready to approach her but thought better of it when they heard her muttering obscenities and threats under her breath.

Eliza was going to throttle Lydia. Then she was going to cut off her share of The Bennet Group dividends until she got her act together.

Eliza knew that Lydia had a very substantial personal allowance from her trust fund, but the loss of the additional millions would get the point across effectively—grow up or ship out.

On her umpteenth tour of the lavishly decorated amenities, the door opened and her long-time friend, Charlotte Lucas, entered on a mission.

“Eliza, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Charlotte exclaimed when she spotted her normally stoic friend wearing a path in the marble tiles.

Eliza stopped mid-step and spun on her heels to face her childhood friend.

“I would say it is good to see you, Charlie, but I’m about thirty seconds away from committing sororicide.”

Charlotte snorted in a very unladylike manner—one which her mother would be mortified to hear, but then she’d practically have a conniption if she heard the vulgar words that regularly came out of her daughter’s mouth—and came up to engulf Eliza with a hug.

“I would ask how you know the term for killing your sister, but I guess it’s from months of research. Horrible little wench needs a good slap.”

Eliza took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around her friend.

“You have no idea.”

Charlotte released Eliza enough to step back and look her friend in the eye.

“Somebody needs to get out there and quell the crowd’s fervour. Conrad just punched some random guy for interrupting him scolding Jane, and she’s disappeared to tend to the handsome stranger’s wounds.”

“What? Shit. Poor Jane, I didn’t even think what she’d have to deal with when I stormed out of there. Let me go and find her.”

“No,” Charlotte said emphatically. “What you need to do is temper the excitable guests. Aren’t you up next? You need to draw their attention away from your sisters and get this evening under control before it all goes to shit. I’m sure Jane would rather you’d tried to salvage the night and not give anyone any more to talk about.”

“I’m not entertaining those twits. They’ve had supper, a free show and a fight. They got their money’s worth.”

Eliza stepped out of Charlotte’s embrace, but her friend didn’t move, so she made to sidestep past her. Charlotte’s hand landed on Eliza’s arm halting her escape.

“Yes, they may have got their money’s worth, but the foundation hasn’t. Isn’t it the auction that brings in the most funds?”

Eliza closed her eyes, tipped her head back, and took a deep breath of the perfumed air. She’s right.

“You need to get out there, do your thing on the piano that’s set up waiting for you, and allow Jane time to get this evening under control. That’s how you ensure Lydia’s antics haven’t won, and Jane still gets to make this night at least a little successful.”

She’s right again.

“Dammit, Charlotte. Why couldn’t you be wrong for once in your life?”

Eliza looked at her friend who grinned wickedly at her before replying, “Because I’m absolutely fucking fabulous, dahling.”

* * *

Darcy sat back sipping his wine and avidly watched the most entertaining car crash he’d ever seen.

First Lydia’s spectacle, then Bing getting walloped—which Darcy almost got involved with, but it seemed his brother still managed to snag the girl— and now the Ice Princess was taking centre stage behind a baby grand piano while the room was still awash with frantic chatter and gossip.

This is going to be priceless.

Darcy sat forward in his seat with anticipation thrumming through his veins. He watched as Eliza closed her eyes and poised her elegant fingers above the keys.

At first, the crowd carried on regardless, paying little attention to the music as it began. The familiar chords of a melancholy tune fought for dominance with their voices until it built and grew into something that silenced the entire room.

Darcy found himself singing the words in his head before he’d even realised he knew song—Nobody said it was easy. He found himself standing, needing to move closer, wanting nothing to interrupt his view of Eliza as she lost herself to Coldplay’s, The Scientist.

Her fingers moved effortlessly over the keys even though her eyes remained closed. Her head angled slightly, tilting towards the sound and the invisible thread that connected her to the instrument.

She was magnificent.

Darcy found himself lost to the woman and the passion with which she played. When the music finished, he felt oddly bereft.

Muted applause followed Eliza as she left the stage without ever once addressing the audience, but her performance had done what she must have intended as the crowd had calmed and the previously frenetic atmosphere had smoothed out.

Jane approached her sister in the wings, and Darcy watched as they embraced. Their easy relationship felt familiar for it was what he had with his brother Bing.

As if just thinking of his brother had summoned him, Bing walked towards the sisters with purpose, and Darcy knew by the wrinkles in his brow that his brother had something important to say.

All it took was for Jane to slap a hand over her mouth in shock, and for Eliza to curl her fists, and he was there. Darcy’s feet carried him up onto the stage without hesitation.

“What’s wrong?” he asked Bing, but his eyes were locked on Eliza, her tight jaw and steely eyes doing nothing to impede her beauty.

Knock it off, Darce. She’s a spoiled brat. An Ice Princess.

“It’s Wick,” Bing finally replied.

“And Lydia,” Jane said through trembling lips.

Darcy shook his head in confusion. Wick didn’t know the younger Bennet sister, so he couldn’t see the problem, plus, he’d saw his brother no less than half hour ago.

“What about them? They don’t even know each other so how much of a problem can this actually be?”

Bing and Jane both looked like they didn’t know how to phrase their reply, each one looking at the other for moral support.

Bing works fast. I’m impressed.

“A shit ton,” Eliza exploded, her fiery gaze finally landed on Darcy and a spark of recognition lit her eyes before they narrowed even further.

“They’ve eloped. To goddamn Vegas of all places.”

Eloped? Vegas?

Darcy remained voiceless, his mind seduced by the piano playing temptress in front of him, muting the gravity of her words.

“Cat got your tongue, barfly?”

His eyes widened at the eldest Bennet sister. Her insult telling him that she hadn’t forgotten their brief interaction last week.

Her piercing gaze would cut most men to the quick, but it reignited a small spark inside Darcy that with very little kindling could well turn into a fire.

“Impossible,” he finally stated meeting her gaze head-on. “Wick doesn’t have enough money to get them to Vegas, even if that’s where they are supposedly heading.”

He stepped forward, all but blocking Bing and Jane out of the conversation.

“Whoever has fed you this information is yanking your chain, and doing so rather effectively, Princess.”

Eliza’s wide blue eyes narrowed into slits, and she too took a step forward.

“Your brother fed me the information, so why don’t you ask him to confirm his source. Or did you all conspire to set this up? You’ve just told us your brother is broke and Lydia is not.”

Eliza took another step forward until they were toe to toe and Darcy was forced to look down at her, once more fighting the urge to get lost in those striking eyes that likely caused many a man’s doom.

“Tell me, Mr Austen. Did you come here tonight under the collusion of bagging one of your ragtag brothers a rich wife?”

Darcy’s brain tripped, and his mouth opened to dispute her accusation, but the truth was he wouldn’t put anything past Wick. His brother was devious, single-minded and selfish. Then Darcy’s mind cleared. Even if Wick had come with the intention of wooing Lydia or any of the Bennets, it was utterly preposterous to assume that one brief meeting with the younger sister would end with an elopement.

“Let’s find out, shall we?” he challenged Eliza, her glare turning artic at the arch of his brow and barely concealed grin just daring her to lose her cool. “Because I think your theory is borderline insane, and when we disprove it, I can’t wait for you to apologise to myself and my brothers. Preferably in public, with an advert in the paper, or better yet—” his grin turned wicked “—I’d take another song. Maybe Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word.”

Eliza’s stunning eyes turned positively feral, and she enunciated every word through the grit of her teeth.

“When Hell freezes over.”

Darcy grinned, leaning closer to Eliza than ever before and replied, “I’m not afraid of a little frostbite.”