“And yet you find yourself alone with me.” His expression became pensive. Calculating. The charming smile that had once captivated Hertfordshire society transformed into something predatory. “What would the earl say if he knew you had been placed in such an… unseemly situation? Alone with a gentleman for whom you secretly yearned?”
What did he know? She could not, no… she would not let him unsettle her with vague threats.
“Mr. Bingley!” Jane rose to her full height. “You censuredyour sister’s rude behaviour, while forgetting to examine your own reflection. I bid you good day.”
As she turned to leave, he caught her from behind and, with surprising strength, twisted her around with fingers that would surely leave bruises on her arms. He forcibly pressed his mouth against hers, the taste of stale tobacco on his tongue revolting her.
“I presume you have no plans of leaving today, sir,” came the deep, measured voice of Jane’s beloved from the doorway, “for I will meet you at dawn, at a place of your choosing.”
Jane wrenched away from Mr. Bingley and ran to Mr. Morgan, allowing him to wrap one arm around her slender shoulders while she sobbed into his chest.
“I have insulted Miss Bennet’s honour, and demand that we marry,” Mr. Bingley said, ignoring the challenge which had been laid at his feet.
“You cannot marry a woman who is betrothed to another, insulted or not. Now, choose your weapon of choice and find someone to be your second.”
“I shall not duel you.”
“Then you declare your honour as forfeit.”
“I do not.”
“You cannot have it both ways,” Mr. Morgan said, ignoring the scoundrel’s look of astonishment. “Either you are a coward, seeing as you will not meet me on a field of honour after attacking a gentlewoman in a public inn, or a rake in the first order, also because you attacked a gentlewoman in a public inn. Which shall it be? Coward or rake?”
“I took nothing that was not offered!” he blustered. “From the very moment Miss Bennet and I were introduced in Meryton, she has thrown herself at me. Everyone knew shewanted to marry me, and today, she all but asked me to kiss her.”
“Is that true, my dearest Miss Manners?” Mr. Morgan asked softly, glancing down at his betrothed.
“No, and you know the reasons why,” she replied, returning his gaze of deep love.
It was at that moment that Uncle Edward entered the room.
“Well, Morgan, the horses and carriages are ready to depart; we just need to round up our ladies and be off.”
“We may be delayed by a day,” Mr. Morgan said calmly. “I came across this gentleman insulting Jane, and called him out. He has yet to decide if he is a coward or a rake.”
Uncle Edward turned a gimlet eye in the direction of Mr. Bingley.
“Is he aware that you hold the fencing title at Cambridge, and the only person to defeat you more than once was Mr. Darcy?” Bingley’s eyes widened at the same time his face turned the colour of chalk. “Or, that you are a crack shot, on par with a military sharpshooter?”
“We had not gotten that far in our discussion, and I will concede that Darcy has out-fenced me more times than I care to admit.”
Jane suppressed a smile at their seemingly harmless chatter; fully aware it sent a shiver down Mr. Bingley’s spine. She had neither pity nor sympathy for the fortune-hunting rake. Gentleman was a title she resolutely refused to bestow on him. Her attention drifted to one of the room’s doorways, where Elizabeth and Aunt Madeline entered arm in arm, laughter bubbling between them like freshly uncorked champagne. They paused midsentence, smiles fading at the sight of so many furrowed brows and pressed lips.
“Why do you all look as though someone has died?”Elizabeth asked, her eyes sweeping the room. Only then did Jane notice the vacant space beside the chipped sideboard where Mr. Bingley had stood.
“Our so-called gentleman has made his escape,” Uncle Edward observed dryly.
Mr. Morgan’s mouth tightened into a stern line. “Hardly unexpected from one who merely masquerades as one.”
Jane remained silent, but the lift of her chin conveyed her agreement. A soft clearing of Elizabeth’s throat drew her attention back to her sister, who was eyeing Mr. Morgan’s arm, still curved protectively around Jane’s shoulders, with impish amusement. Warmth rose in Jane’s cheeks, and she stepped out from his embrace, smoothed her gown, and folded her gloved hands demurely as she met Elizabeth’s teasing gaze with composed defiance.
“Uncle,” Jane began, her normally serene brow creased with concern. “Just before Mr. Morgan arrived, Mr. Bingley let slip a curious remark. He wondered how the earl would react upon learning I had been caught in an indecent position.”
“You suspect he is aware of your father’s new title?”
“Indeed. The presence of both him and his sister at this remote establishment cannot be coincidental, especially when they were known to be in Bath not a fortnight ago.” She paced a few steps, then turned. “Why would they takethisroute to Scarborough?”
“Gossip in Bath may lack the flair of London’s salons, but it travels swiftly enough. The Bennet connection to the earldom was hardly a state secret, and fortune-hunters leave no whisper unturned, especially when the prize is worth the pursuit.”
