Page 130 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

“I am thinking of going into politics when the war is over,” he said, drastically changing the subject. “Though I may sell out sooner.”

Caroline stopped walking to stare up at him. “Are you serious? I thought you meant to stay in the army until you retire as a general.”

His mouth pursed, and he twitched it from side to side as he thought—a habit she found endearing.

“This war…it has gone on for so long. I have served as an officer for fourteen years, you know. We declared war on France in 1803—May 18th. I served in Portugal for three years, until I made colonel and was seconded to General Wellesley’s staff.”

“I thought you are an aide to Lieutenant-General Harry Calvert,” Caroline said, frowning.

“I am, now.” He sighed. “I must look ahead to when the war is over. I believe politics will offer me the opportunity to serve my country without being subject to the commands of a general.”

Caroline tightened her stomach muscles. “You must find yourself a wife from amongst the political set. An MP’s daughter, perhaps. Someone respectable, of course.”

“I do not need a wife from amongst their set,” he said firmly. In a gentler, more probing voice, he added, “What I need is an intelligent woman who will enjoy entertaining politicians and their wives. Someone who longs to be thought of as a great parliamentary hostess. I want a help meet, as well, not simply a beautiful woman to be on my arm. I would love her to be a woman who will discuss matters of import with me.”

“Goodness,” she murmured. “Do you also hope to find love with such a paragon?”

“I do,” he whispered back, kissing her hand again.

Caroline swallowed. “Do you have someone in mind?”

He smiled, and her stomach unclenched. “I do.”

All thoughts of her brother had disappeared from her mind. Who? Who will Douglas ask to marry him? I hate her already! I must know who she is. Could it be that…that I am his choice? He has been attentive, but I thought he was simply being a good guest.

“Will you tell me who?” she asked breathlessly. Is it me?

“I will say nothing as yet,” he said, touching one gloved finger to her lips. “You see, I am not certain of receiving the answer I long for.”

“I cannot imagine any lady refusing you,” Caroline said, feeling a blush heating her cheeks. “Let us walk on.”

Douglas obediently put her hand through his arm and they continued along the grass path paralleling the gravel lane.

“Oh, I do not know that I am a great catch,” Douglas said, responding to her assurance of his marital eligibility. “My private income is only five hundred pounds a year. I have another five hundred or so from my income as an officer.”

“Which will end when you retire?”

“I can retire on half-pay, or I can sell out. I believe I can get £10,000 or more for my commission if I sell it soon. I do not need to wait until the war ends.”

“That is money you could apply to your political campaign,” Caroline surmised. “Or you could purchase a house in London?”

“I own a house in London,” he said, grinning. “My elderly aunt keeps household for me. I inherited the house from my uncle, her husband. He stipulated that I must give his wife a home until her death since they had no children to look after her. I had no objection. Aunt Margaret is pleasant company, intelligent, and ready to please.”

“Do you think your future wife will mind having her there?” Caroline asked.

“I think she will love her. Aunt Margaret likes cats, too.”

Caroline caught her breath. She released it slowly before asking, “Does she have a cat?”

“Not at the moment. She misses Arabella most keenly since her passing.”

“Poor woman. Do you think she would like Basile?”

Douglas patted her hand. “I am certain of it. She prefers cats with personality.”

“Basile has that.” Caroline almost covered her mouth at the shock of her words. Can he have any doubt of my interest after that remark?

Douglas chuckled. “He certainly does.”