The Three Colonels

There was one issue not resolved—for how many sins must he be forgiven? Did she really want to know? Yet, she could not be a woman and not ask.

In a small voice, Caroline asked, “How many women?”

Sir John struggled. “Though they do not deserve it, as a man wishing to be a gentleman, I will not name them. But I am sure it is far less than the number you have been told.”

“That will not do, Colonel. Is it more than ten?”

Sir John looked away and finally said, “You can count my relationships upon one hand and not use all the fingers.”

“Am I acquainted with any of them?” she had to ask, knowing his answer.

“I cannot say. Only know this—I would never insult my friends by having them or any of that set enter my house.”

Caroline was silent again. She had only one question left, and she feared to voice it. Finally, she found courage. “What do you want of me, Colonel?”

“I see fear in your eyes. I do not blame you. What tales you have undoubtedly been told! I am still afraid to state my desires—yes, I am afraid! But I must. Please do not give me your answer yet. Take time to consider it carefully. I place my trust in your justice.” Sir John drew breath. “I wish you to become my mistress—”

Caroline gasped.

“—the mistress of my house, the mother of my heirs, the wife of my body. I formally ask to court you with the object of matrimony.”

To say that Caroline was stunned would be incorrect. She would have to be sensible to be stunned. It was the very last thing she expected Sir John to say. Frozen on the bench, questions flooded her mind.

Matrimony? He wants to marry me? Sir John Buford wishes to court me? Do I want him to? How can I marry a rake—a former rake? Was I so much better? What I did to poor Jane, who would never hurt anyone… Sir John… I would be Lady Buford—stop it! I am closer to six and twenty than not. Would a better offer ever be made? He is handsome, and he has been kind. My God, he threatened to kill for me! He wants me—has protected me. What would I give to him? On and on her thoughts flew, but in the end, she had no choice.

“Colonel Buford, you ask to court me?” she asked.

“Yes, Miss Bingley. Please take all the time you need to—”

She held up her hand. “Nottinghamshire is some distance from London or Wales. Is that a difficulty for you?”

“No distance would be too far.”

“And for how long would you court me before expecting an answer?”

“You are my heart’s choice, therefore, I will await your—”

“Please, Colonel.” She sighed. “I see no profit in such an exercise when it would make no difference with the eventual answer. Therefore, I shall give you my answer now. Yes, I believe that you have reformed your life, and I forgive you all past transgressions. No, you may not court me. Yes, I will marry you.”

“Pardon me?” Sir John asked, confused.

Caroline smiled. “Colonel Buford, I see no reason to postpone the inevitable. I would be happy and honored to become your wife.”

Surprise gave way to joy, which gave way to satisfaction on Sir John’s face. Regaining control, he reached out, helping Caroline to rise from the bench. He softly began kissing the back of her hands while saying, “Caroline, my own.”

Caroline was almost overcome by the sight of this extraordinarily handsome man taking such liberties with her. The skin under his lips tingled, and the memory of walking into the Netherfield library while her brother and Jane were stealing a moment of affection ignited a longing of… something. She was unsure what that craving was, but perhaps if she imitated her relations’ activity, she would discover it.

“John,” said Caroline, using his Christian name, “if I must marry a man with your reputation, should not I receive some benefit from it?” At his renewed confusion, she added, “Surely you can do better than this,” as she indicated her hands. She had forgotten all about Abigail.

Caroline never realized that blue eyes could become so dark. Sir John lowered her hands to her side and took her into his arms, a slow smile creeping over his face.

“Oh yes, Caroline, much better.”

He lowered his lips to hers. The kiss started light and tender, but began to build in passion as Caroline surprised herself by kissing him back. He drew her even more firmly into his embrace, and the warmth of his closeness set a fire that threatened to engulf her body. Caroline’s hands rose to his broad shoulders, hard and firm beneath his coat, when she felt his tongue brush her lips. Startled back into control, she pushed herself away slightly.

“Yes… much better, sir. But we should return to the house, I think.” Caroline smiled weakly. She quickly became mortified on catching sight of a shocked Abigail.

“Of course, of course. Let me give you my arm,” her newly betrothed said. As the couple began making their way back to Bingley House, Sir John asked, “To whom should I speak? Your brother, I should think. May I approach him this evening?”

Caroline shook herself and answered, “Yes, speak to Charles.”

Only later would she remember that he and Jane were at Netherfield.

*   *   *

The Buford family of Wales was announced in the ballroom of Bingley House. The dowager Mrs. Albertine Buford came forward to greet her son and his intended. Walking beside her were Mr. and Mrs. Philip Buford, the current masters of the family estate, and her daughter, Lady Suzanne Douglas.

“Caroline!” cried Mrs. Buford in her slight French accent that thirty years in Wales had not eliminated. “How lovely you look tonight. And this is very becoming,” she said, eyeing the cameo. “My son spoils you.”

Caroline blushed while Sir John looked on with pleasure. “Thank you, Mrs. Buford.”

“Caroline! I must insist—it is Mother Buford! Rebecca is Mrs. Buford now.”

Caroline tried not to roll her eyes. “Yes, of course, Mother Buford.” She greeted the others. “Philip, Rebecca, Lady—er, Suzanne.”

Sir John frowned. “Is Lord Douglas not coming?”

Lady Douglas took Caroline’s hand. “Forgive us—tenant troubles in Scotland. He promises most firmly he will be present for the wedding.”

The Buford family continued to exchange pleasantries with everyone while once again Caroline wondered at the kindness shown her. For such a fine family, they were certainly informal. They were undoubtedly standoffish in the beginning. Why, Sir John, a second son, came with two thousand pounds a year! Perhaps they thought she was after his fortune. Now she wondered whether they were truly fond of her or simply happy that Sir John was settling down. If it were the latter, how long would their kindness last?

The butler approached to interrupt them. The first guests were arriving.

Chapter 3

Caroline, at last free from her stint on the receiving line, walked with Jane and Louisa to the punch bowl. There she saw Eliza Darcy and Mrs. Gardiner with a young lady Caroline had not met that evening.

“Caroline, Louisa,” Elizabeth said, “allow me to introduce to you a very good friend of mine, Mrs. Brandon. Marianne, Miss Bingley, Sir John’s intended, and her sister, Mrs. Hurst.”

Caroline smiled. “I am pleased to be able to meet you finally, Mrs. Brandon. Sir John has told me so much of Colonel Brandon and his lovely Marianne that I feel I know you already.”

“You are too kind,” replied Marianne as Kitty, Georgiana, and Anne de Bourgh joined them. “His friends have despaired for years that Sir John would ever settle down, but I see we had no reason for fear, for he was waiting for the right lady.”

Caroline was unsure of the lady’s sincerity, but she chose to ignore it. Besides, she had been dealing with