A few days later, Sir John called upon her, acting as if the incident had never happened.

Finally, as September began to fade and Caroline’s time in London was coming to an end, she felt the need to settle her thoughts. When Sir John called, she suggested a walk to a nearby park, Abigail trailing behind as chaperone.

“Sir John, I apologize for not doing so before, but I must thank you for the uncommon gallantry you showed on my behalf last month with Sir Horace,” she began.

“Think nothing of it. Any gentleman would do the same for a lady in distress,” he replied.

Any gentleman? she thought. Does he have no feelings for me? “That may be, sir, but it is you who have earned my thanks.” They walked on in silence for the next few minutes, Caroline’s feelings in turmoil. They came to a rather private spot along the walk, and Sir John suggested a rest. Caroline was puzzled by his choice, especially when he did not join her on the bench. Instead, he held up his hand, indicating that Abigail should keep her distance, and looked up at the sky.

“I understand you are to leave London for Hertfordshire soon,” he began.

“Yes, my brother is removing to a new estate recently purchased in Nottinghamshire. My family needs me to help prepare for the move.”

“It is a fine thing to own one’s own place,” he replied rather offhandedly. “I am sure your sister will miss her relations.”

“That is true, to be sure. Mrs. Bingley would be very affected were not her sister, Mrs. Darcy, residing in the next county.”

“Of course, of course. Pemberley is in Derbyshire. How would you like living that far north?”

How would I like living there? How can he ask that, knowing my pursuit of Mr. Darcy? she thought. “Very well, I think, but one place is like another.”

“I see.” He was silent for a while. “Miss Bingley, I have a request. May I be permitted, or do I ask too much, to call upon you in Nottinghamshire?”

Surprised by the request, she blurted out, “Why?”

“Why?”

In for a penny, she thought. “Yes, why? What are your intentions, Colonel?”

“My intentions?” he cried. “They should be clear enough!”

Caroline was horrified. It is as I feared. He wants me for his mistress.

Sir John paced about in an agitated manner, muttering, “Too soon, too soon,” then he paused and took a breath. “Please forgive my outburst. It was not my intention to speak now; you do not know me well enough. But, madam, you force my hand! I shall speak, and then my fate shall be in your hands. But before I make my request known to you, I must ask you to indulge me this small thing. I must speak about my past. Will you allow me to speak my part in full before you respond? Afterwards I shall answer any questions you have. Please grant me this favor. I know I ask much.”

Caroline silently nodded.

“My reputation has preceded me, I fear, and I must, in all good conscience, make this confession. I have not lived as I should. I know this, and I am ashamed. Some men make light of this; they are ‘men of the world,’ but I know better. For some time, I have failed as a gentleman.” He smiled slightly. “I am sure you have heard tales.”

Caroline blanched.

“Be not alarmed, madam,” he quickly added, “I may have lived selfishly, but as God is my witness, I have never compromised the innocence of any maiden, low or high born. And I have never forced my attentions upon any woman. All of my… associations have been with aggressive, experienced partners from among the ton—”

“Other men’s wives, you mean!” Caroline could not help blurting out.

“If you speak of women—I do not use the term ladies—who hold their marriage vows so lightly that they flirt with their lovers at Westminster Cathedral itself, then yes, that is who I mean. But know this—I was not their first, and I was certainly not their last! Do not pity their husbands. They are too busy with their own dalliances to mind their duties, as you so unfortunately discovered.” At this, Caroline blushed and turned away. “Forgive me—I have distressed you.”

“No, I am well, I assure you,” Caroline replied.

“You are too kind,” Sir John said softly. He looked out into the greenery about them. “I tell you these things not to excuse my behavior—for it cannot be excused—but that you know the whole truth of it. I sought no one out. I was always approached. But I was weak. I sought a few moments pleasure and found emptiness.” He sighed and turned to her. “You, so pure, cannot know how pathetic a life I lived.”

Can I not, Colonel?

“Three years ago, I suddenly saw the waste my life had become. I saw men die for friends, for their king, for a flag! I vowed to be worthy of them, of my late father—to be a gentleman again. Since my return to Britain, I have lived as I should, no matter what the gossips of society say. I have reformed. I give you my word before God as an officer in the king’s army.”

Caroline was silent for a while. The colonel’s confession had the ring of truth. What mortification he must have suffered to make such a declaration! How was she to judge him, given her sins? 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.