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Jane gasped.
“Jane Bennet, will you do me the very great honor of being my wife?” Still holding her hand, he gazed up into her face with eyes full of hope.
An excited murmur swept through the crowd. No doubt they had the full attention of everyone in the ballroom.
Jane swallowed, wishing that her voice would not crack. “Yes, I will, Mr. Bing— Charles. I will be your wife.”
Charles leapt to his feet and threw his arms around her. Then he was kissing her—in the middle of the ballroom, in plain sight!
She had a moment to be shocked at his behavior, and then she was drowning in the kiss. Just as before, his lips held the power to make her forget everything else. The world fell away. Nothing remained save his kiss and the sensation of his strong arms holding her against his body. Yes, she thought. Yes, this is how it should be. This is true. This is good. He is the man I should kiss. He is the man I will marry.
Finally, reluctantly, Charles loosened his hold on her body and gently disengaged his lips. As Jane returned to reality, she noticed gasps of disapproval from the onlookers, smatterings of applause, and a few amused titters. Her face was hot, no doubt a bright red. And no doubt their “improper behavior” would be noted in tomorrow’s papers. But it was difficult to marshal any regrets. She would marry Charles Bingley!
Chapter Eight
When the happy couple reached the edge of the crowd, they were greeted by a succession of unhappy relatives. First, Caroline pounced on them. Grabbing Bingley roughly by the arm, she pulled him away from Jane. “What do you think you are about, Charles?” she hissed in a low voice. “I warned you that an engagement would ruin Jane’s good name!”
Leveling a stare at his sister, Bingley felt an echo of his previous anger, but now it more resembled annoyance. She could do little to hurt them, and he merely wanted to be rid of her. “Do you believe you can convince your cronies that Jane coerced me into proposing on the dance floor in the midst of a ball?” He gave her a smile with no humor in it. “How, pray tell, did she manage to entrap me into such a feat?”
Caroline’s eyes went wide as she recognized the impetus behind Bingley’s public proposal. “But you—! She—! You cannot—!” she sputtered.
Bingley narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps you should leave off meddling in my life and consider how to lessen the damage to your reputation.”
“My reputation? What on earth are you talking about?”
“You spent weeks telling everyone in the ton that Jane Bennet was scheming to entrap me into marriage, and now I have demonstrated how completely false your story is—a story about your own brother. If I were your friends, I would no longer consider Caroline Bingley to be a reliable source of information.” Bingley’s annoyance faded, and he began to enjoy himself.
Caroline gasped, opened her mouth to respond, and then—apparently reconsidering—closed it again. Without another word, she turned on her heel and hurried to join a clump of chattering women. Bingley wondered what she would say to convince the women that she was indeed a dependable source of gossip.
When he sought Jane, he realized they faced another dilemma: Mr. Gardiner was not well pleased. He and his wife were staring tight-lipped at Jane, apparently waiting for Bingley to finish with Caroline. Without a word, the older man herded Bingley and Jane into a relatively deserted corner of the ballroom.
Then he commenced to glare at Bingley from under bushy gray eyebrows as if hoping to kill with the power of his eyes alone. “Was such a display entirely necessary, young man?” he barked.
Bingley swallowed. Yes, it was. My sister spread rumors that your niece would coerce me into marrying her. I needed to demonstrate that I made the offer of my free will and that the betrothal makes me deliriously happy.
But Bingley could utter none of these words. He could not expose his sister to the Gardiners’ censure, much though she might deserve it. “I apologize, sir. It was not my intention to make my feelings for Jane so…public.” He swallowed again. “I was overcome by my ardor.” What a feeble excuse.
Gardiner snorted. “That is all you have to say for yourself?”
Mrs. Gardiner put her hand on her husband’s arm. “Edward, it might not be the most conventional offer of marriage, but Mr. Bingley is a respectable young man. There is no harm done. Your brother Bennet will certainly approve the match.”
“I dare say he will.” Jane insisted on holding Bingley’s hand despite her uncle’s growls.
Gar
diner jerked his arm from his wife’s grasp. “How do I explain to Bennet that I allowed his daughter to become an object of ridicule? I came out of the card room to find everyone at the ball staring and pointing at my niece!”
“I do not care!” Jane said firmly.
“I do not believe anyone is laughing at her,” Mrs. Gardiner said in a low, soothing voice. “Many of the young women—and all of the older women—believed Mr. Bingley’s offer was quite sweet.”
“Sweet!” Gardiner spat out the word.
“An offer of marriage may be sweet.” Mrs. Gardiner stepped closer to her husband and looked him in the eye. “You brought me a bouquet of hothouse flowers—which you could ill afford.”
Bingley had never before witnessed a man of Gardiner’s age turn that particular shade of red. “That was different,” he mumbled to his wife, who regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “You were…I was…we were in private! Private, that is the essential point!”
Mrs. Gardiner gave her husband a fond smile. “Yes, we have established that the proposal would have been more properly made in private, and Mr. Bingley has apologized for the oversight.”
