Chapter Twenty-five #3
“I have chosen a damnable place to declare myself, have I not?” He took her elbow and drew her across the hall and through the open door into the small receiving room with the botanical tree paintings.
No lamps had been it in here, so he left her to retrieve a lamp from the side table in in the entrance hall.
He brought it to the mantel and lit four new candles from it.
Douglas led her to stand beside the unlit fireplace so they could see each other within the glow of the candles and lamp.
He clasped both hands again. “Caroline, I know I am not a grand person, or a wealthy man, but I have ambition. I will not deny that I wish to use your inheritance to back my political career, but I promise you I will not squander it. Though my income does not match yours, it will keep us in relative comfort should my political aspirations come to naught. I promise to love you, always, in whatever circumstance.”
Caroline steeled herself and asked the difficult question weighing down her heart. “If I had no money, would you still love me?”
Douglas’ lips descended and touched hers. “Yes, my darling,” he whispered against her lips before he kissed her.
She never dreamed a proper kiss between a man and woman would feel like this. Just as she began to properly respond, Douglas pulled back. He pressed his forehead to hers as he breathed raggedly.
“Goodness,” she whispered. “I am relieved. And, your face…did that hurt?”
Douglas grinned and winced. “Not as much as smiling.”
Caroline, not known for her reserve, took one of his hands in both of hers and declared herself. “Douglas, I do love you. I will marry you. We will do great things together.”
Basile watched his mistress and Colonel Fitzwiliam from the top of one of the chairs surrounding the round table, blinking slowly, unconcerned.
Zat imbécile witch threatened me with bodily ‘arm if I tried to keep my mistress and ze soldier man from each other’s arms. But I am no fool. I am French! My mistress loves zis man—zis I ‘ave known for days. I like London. My Caroline likes London. We will live in London, I zink.
Basile stood, stretched, walked across the table, jumped to the floor, and intertwined himself between Caroline and the colonel.
“Ho! Not my boots!” the man said, twirling Caroline around so she stood between himself and Basile.
“Le meow. Le meow,” Basile said softly.
“Oh, mon petit chat,” Caroline purred, bending over and picking him up, nestling him beneath her chin.
“He is not so petit,” Douglas pointed out.
“He is un grand chat,” his mistress praised. “You will like living in London, will you not, Basile?”
Basile purred loudly.
Douglas leaned forward and kissed Caroline’s cheek. “I must go and have Laman doctor me before I change into clean garb. I need to speak to Bingley about us, love. Is he at home?”
“He is. I think he is with Darcy in the library.”
Yes, yes, go. I want to snuggle with my Caroline and you are in my way. Douglas stroked him on his head. Very well, I like you well enough.
“You have made me the happiest of men, Caroline, my love,” the man said, caressing her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for saying such a kind thing,” she murmured back, smiling softly. “I am also happier than I can ever remember being.”
She received another kiss for that. The colonel left her, and Caroline sunk down into one of the chairs. “Basile, I am to be married at last. And to the colonel.” She rested her hand on Basile’s back. “You will come to love him as much as you love me, I promise you.”
Basile purred, but privately thought, I doubt zat. But I do not hate him. Zat will have to do.
*
The library door opened. Darcy and Bingley looked up from their brandies. Douglas entered and closed the door behind him.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” he said, coming into the light.
Darcy observed the state of his cousin’s face and abruptly stood. “What the devil?”
“By Jove,” Bingley said, rising and peering this way and that. “Been in a mill?”
Douglas shook his head and said one word. “Wickham.”
Darcy understood immediately. “I gather he struck you first. Did you…?”
“No, no,” his cousin said, waving his hand in a negative gesture. “That would have defeated my efforts.”
Bingley looked back and forth at them. “You meant for him to strike you?”
“A nice right hook,” Douglas admitted. He gingerly touched his bruised face. “I did not realize Wickham boxed.”
“I would have told you if you had warned me of your plan,” Darcy informed him. “Brandy?”
“Yes, thank you,” Douglas said, choosing a chair. He sat, saying, “I had no plan to let him hit me, but when he came up to the George Inn in a tearing mood, I saw my opportunity and took it.”
“You were in uniform. Was Wickham?” Darcy asked, pouring out some brandy.
“He was. His friends were there, and kept him from following through.”
“Court-martial?” Bingley asked, his gaze wide.
“It is worthy of one, surely, but Wickham himself said he would sell out and enter the regulars,” Douglas explained, taking the brandy glass from Darcy.
“A good thing,” Bingley said, sitting once more.
Darcy returned to his seat and nodded. “We did not wish to make Wickham. If the insubordination had occurred on the battlefield, the result would have been Wickham’s death.”
“He would deserve it,” Douglas said grimly. He lifted his glass and said, “To the conclusion of a successful campaign.”
Darcy and Bingley raised their glasses. “Thank you for your sacrifice,” Darcy said, nodding at his cousin’s face.
Douglas shrugged and they sipped their brandy.
“You may wish me well,” his cousin said, smiling. “Caroline has done me the honor of agreeing to be my wife,” he told them, happiness evident in his voice. “That is, if you will give your consent, Bingley?”
Bingley set down his glass, reached over, and wrung Douglas’ hand. “You do not need it, my friend. I am overjoyed for you both.”
“Thank you,” Douglas expressed. He faced Darcy. “Are you happy for me, Cousin?”
Darcy nodded gravely. “Indeed. I think Miss Bingley will suit you to a ‘t’. I predict she will be a great political hostess.”
“By Jove, yes,” Bingley said, appearing much struck. “She needs to be busy, and to feel needed. And you will live in London, which she loves to do.”
“I have a house there, which I inherited,” Douglas told him. “I have no ties to the country, since my brother will inherit the family seat.”
“You will sell out?” Bingley asked.
“I will.”
“How long will that take?” Darcy asked.
“I thought to wait until the end of the war, but I know a captain who is interested. I could be a civilian before Christmas.”
“My future is settled,” Bingley stated. “And yours is settled, Colonel. Darcy, it is about time you make inroads into your future.”
Darcy smiled enigmatically, making no statement to assuage his friend’s curiosity.
Bingley lifted his glass again. “To the women we love and who love us.”
“Hear, hear,” his friends replied.