Page 10 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #1)

Chapter Ten

E dward shifted in the leather armchair in the library of Blackstone’s, his discomfort less to do with the chair and more the furnishings of his mind, but it did not stop him from muttering a complaint about the width of the seat.

“Ah, I am afraid I did not obtain furniture with giants in mind,” said a cheery voice from behind him.

Edward jumped up from his seat and turned to see Lord Blackstone standing there, hands tucked behind his back, his eyes as warm and full of amusement as ever.

“I beg your pardon, Lord Blackstone. I did not see you there.”

“Unless you had eyes in the back of your head, I imagine that would be a rather impossible feat.” He gestured to a chair that matched Edward’s, facing the window at angled for conversation between the two seats. “May I join you, Colonel Halstead?”

“Of course.” Edward waited for the older man to seat himself before carefully lowering himself back to his chair. “This is your club, my lord. You need not ask my permission for anything.”

“When one wishes for polite company, one must be mostly polite rather than mostly tyrannical.” The man put his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled his fingers together. “Now then. Apart from the lack of Colonel-sized furnishings—which, you ought to know, there are such chairs on the other side of the room—what is it that is bothering you, young man?”

Edward’s eight and thirty years sat more heavily upon him when the man addressed him that way. “I know myself too old in the ways of the world to accept such flattery, sir.”

“Piffle. You are a younger man than me—my words stand.” Lord Blackstone chuckled and smiled almost benevolently. “You are trying to avoid the question. That tells me to tread lightly. Would it help if I promised discretion? If I told you I am not one to gossip?”

“Perhaps.” Edward considered the man across from him. “Have you…er…any experience with ladies?” When the old gentleman raised his eyebrows, Edward hastened to add, “I mean—you see, I am a second son. I have no sisters, I have no wife. I barely spent time with my mother. Now I am responsible for a young woman as her guardian, and her companion—her aunt—by extension. I find myself lost. There are no maps or guides for a man in my position.”

“Indeed, not. Even if there were, I imagine they would be almost useless since most such things are written by men.” Lord Blackstone chuckled with amusement at his own observation. “Women are rather delicate creatures in some ways, but I find they are stronger than they look. Rather like geese.”

Edward’s mind struggled to understand that particular comparison. “Women…are like geese, my lord?”

Lord Blackstone’s head bobbed as he appeared most pleased with himself. “Indeed, yes. Picture one of those lovely creatures on the water of a pond. There it is. Drifting serenely, appearing as delicate as their cousins the ducks. But then, put both creatures on dry land. Send a cat among them. The duck will fly away, if possible. The goose will puff up and hiss. Rather like a cobra. The goose will fight rather than fly. Can you think of any man willing to harass a goose without at least a stick at hand?”

“I cannot. But you must forgive me, my lord. I also cannot imagine how this applies to women.”

“They are stronger than they look,” Lord Blackwell stated with firmness. “More willing to fight than we give them credit for. Perfectly capable of managing difficulties in all shapes and sizes.”

“But…that does not exactly help my particular situation, my lord.” Edward wanted to rub at his temples. Lord Blackstone’s talk of birds and nature, a topic he had come to realize occurred with great frequency in the club, had done no more than confuse his already exhausted mind. “I must offer a correction to my ward’s companion. An admonition. I fear she does not see the danger that I do in her management of her niece.”

Lord Blackstone’s eyes gleamed knowingly. “And what, precisely, about this situation is causing you such distress, my boy? The girl’s safety or her aunt’s resistance?”

Edward stiffened. “They are one and the same.”

Lord Blackstone merely hummed. “Are they?”

His traitorous chest tightened, but he shook his head. “They are. I do not know the best approach to take.”

“Best approach? Colonel, speak to her,” his companion said with a lackadaisical shrug. “Make your concerns clear. She will not break or crumble—I find most women are quite logical, though many a man would tell you I am wrong. My experience is that honest conversation with a woman does far more good than skirting an issue or making demands. Though I suppose the latter would come more naturally to a military man.”

It would. But the fear of both hurting Miss Price’s feelings and causing an emotional display had kept him silent on the matter.

And there was the faint thought that she would defy orders rather than follow them, which had kept his tongue still.

“A direct conversation will serve you better than sitting in my club, ruminating on it, ever will.” Lord Blackstone patted the arms of the chair. “Well. That is my advice. Now, I am off to see my taxidermist. He sent word he has the most beautiful North American robin he was bid repair, but the owner did not like the job, so now he must sell it instead. I do not yet have a North American robin. One can never have too many robins, can one?” He bowed as Edward stood, then went on his way, humming to himself.

Edward remained standing, watching the nobleman go, and heaved a sigh before making his own way out of the library, then the club, requesting that his horse be brought around.

Whether the comparison of women and geese was apt, Lord Blackstone had made an excellent point. Edward accomplished nothing by sitting in the club, miles away from his home. He needed to speak to Felicity—his Captain. The Captain. Bother—Miss Price.

He needed to speak to Miss Price directly.

If she cried when he corrected her mistake, well, so be it. If she defied his instructions, that would be a different matter altogether. He needed to approach the subject of Daphne’s chaperonage with logic and reasoning, perhaps with an appeal to Miss Price’s protective instincts. He had to make her understand the sort of trouble a girl of Daphne’s age could get into if not watched closely at all times.

The sort of trouble that he had caused for another young lady two decades previously. He’d been a careless, foolish youth who thought he knew better than everyone else. He was not a careless, foolish youth now.

He had to make Miss Price understand the sort of trouble a girl of Daphne’s age could get into if not watched closely at all times.

Oh, the way Pamela had looked at him that night, eyes wide with trust, thinking he was offering her love when all he had to give was ruin.

Fool .

As he rode homeward, Edward rehearsed what he wished to say in his mind, again and again. Daphne needed protection from men like he had been, he had to make Miss Price see the importance of vigilance. Perhaps he ought to speak to Daphne first. She was his ward, after all, and she was obligated to obey him. If he could gain her promise of strict obedience, her aunt would have no choice but to do as Edward wished.

That seemed as sound an idea as any. Speaking to Daphne, that was what was needed.

That course of action decided, Edward made his way to Briarwood with determination in his gut and his battle-ready mask in place.

* * *

The smaller parlor was bright with the soft afternoon sun, the open curtains letting in the light and keeping out the still too cool air. A steady fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth providing comfort that softened the lingering chill of early spring.

Felicity sat close to Daphne on the settee, the younger woman tucked beneath a woolen shawl, her slippered feet curled beneath her. A cup of tea rested in her hands, the fragrant steam curling up toward her face, and she breathed it in slowly before taking another careful sip. Her cheeks were faintly flushed, a telltale sign of her slight fever, but otherwise, she looked comfortable. Rested.

Felicity turned a page in the book she held, her voice low and soothing as she read aloud.

Emma was not required, by any subsequent discovery, to retract her ill opinion of Mrs. Elton. Her observation had been pretty correct. Such as Mrs. Elton appeared to her on this second interview, such she appeared whenever they met again,—self-important, presuming, familiar, ignorant, and ill-bred.

Daphne sniffled. “Isn’t it interesting that someone as little in the world as Emma can still see how Mrs. Elton is ill-mannered?”

“I think it matters little how much in the world we are, so long as we endeavor to understand it. I think that is what Mrs. Elton lacks,” Felicity said gently. “An understanding of the world, and that her place in it is not so important as she assumes.”

After dabbing at her nose, Daphne leaned her head against Felicity’s shoulder. “Do continue. I want to know what happens with the Eltons.”

Felicity resumed reading, the steady cadence of the words filling the quiet room, mixing with the occasional pop of the fire and the faint ticking of the clock on the mantel. She glanced up between sentences, pleased to see Daphne’s lashes drooping slightly, her body sinking deeper into the cushions.

“You needn’t keep reading if you’re tired, Aunt Felicity,” Daphne murmured, though she was the one who ill-covered a yawn.

Felicity smiled, brushing a loose curl from Daphne’s forehead in an old, familiar gesture. “Nonsense, my Daffodil. What better use have I for my afternoon than reading to you? Besides, this story is far too engaging to put aside just yet. I too wish to know what happens to the Eltons.”

Daphne gave a small, drowsy smile and let her head tip against the cushion. “Then I suppose I shall allow you to continue,” she teased softly, closing her eyes and settling in against her aunt’s shoulder again.

A faint tap preceded the quiet entrance of a footman.

Felicity paused in her reading, eyebrows raised. “Yes, Peter?”

He bowed. “The Colonel summons Miss Daphne to attend to him in the gardens, madam.”

Felicity bristled. “Summons?” she repeated.

Not requested. Not asked. But summoned —and without regard to Daphne’s current state of health? Her niece was a young lady in his care, not a soldier under his command.

Daphne released a soft sigh as she sat up, her brow furrowed. “I will go, of course. I must not displease my guardian.”

“You most certainly will not.” Felicity rose faster than her niece and placed her hand on Daphne’s forehead, testing for warmth. The poor girl still burned hotter than she ought, and her nose was an unsightly red. She was in no fit state to go out into the garden. In March? In reply to a summons? “My niece is unwell and will not be going out into the cold. I will see Colonel Halstead myself.”

The footman visibly swallowed as he bowed. “He is in the rose garden, Miss Price.”

She nodded her thanks. “Please fetch my niece more tea, and a fresh hot brick.” Then she turned to Daphne. “I will return shortly to resume our book. If you are too tired to continue, take your tea to your chamber and have a nap.”

“But Aunt Felicity?—”

“No.” Felicity picked up a shawl from the back of the settee and wrapped it around her niece’s shoulders. “He cannot order you about when you are unwell, Daphne. I will not allow it.” She stepped to the door and hesitated. “If it is truly a matter of great importance, you can speak with him inside the house later.”

Daphne’s expression was somewhat pained, and though it hurt Felicity to make her niece uncertain, she blew her a kiss and went out the door anyway. She made her way down the stairs, through the house, and out into the cold air. A brisk breeze immediately pushed against her, stinging her cheeks and snatching at the edges of her shawl.

As she strode toward the garden, the sharp wind biting at her cheeks, Felicity felt more than cold. She felt erased . A man she barely knew, summoning her niece as though she were nothing more than a piece on his chessboard. Like a housemaid. As if Felicity hadn’t poured years into Daphne’s happiness—as if she herself hadn’t sacrificed enough already.

Well. He would learn she was not so easily brushed aside.

“No one should be out for garden walks in this weather,” she muttered as she made her way gingerly down the damp paths to the rose garden. A rather dismal place at that time of year, given the complete lack of blooms and the small stumps belying great roses come the summer. Why would anyone wish to be in a rose garden in March?

She saw Halstead’s head over the sleeping rose bushes, his back to her, wearing his greatcoat. Of course, he had dressed for the weather. Felicity gave a small shiver as she approached, coming into the garden as he walked along one of the stone paths, bending to peer closer at a plant.

The sight of him pacing like an officer inspecting his troops increased her irritation with him, him and his summons .

“Good afternoon, Colonel,” Felicity called out to him, her voice carrying across the empty space. He stopped walking and turned to look at her with a raised brow. She kept walking until she was within six paces of him, which meant she did not have to look up to meet his gaze, making sure to halt before she stepped too close. “Ought I to curtsy or salute? I am afraid I am uncertain at the moment if you expect a lady or a foot soldier to attend you.”

His look of surprise changed to an expression which she interpreted as consternation. “I beg your pardon, Miss Price? What do you mean by those words?”

“Mean? Why, Colonel, I am merely confused. What are the rules of engagement when a commanding officer summons a woman like a foot soldier?”

Slowly, her host shook his head. “I did not summon you, Miss Price. I sent for Daphne, and when I ask my ward to join me for a discussion, I expect her to come rather than send an envoy in her stead.”

“Envoy?” Felicity laughed, trying and failing to keep back her invitation. “Colonel Halstead, you know full well that Daphne has a cold, a growing fever in fact, and should not be out in this weather.”

“A cold?” His mouth turned downward in a frown. “I was not informed.”

Felicity opened her mouth, then hesitated. Well, he had not been. She had merely leapt into action that morning, upon seeing her niece with such a streaming nose, and taken care of her.

The Colonel was still frowning. “I merely wished to see how she fared today. Your reaction to my concern is naught but an over reaction. A note would have been sufficient.”

“Or you could have come to see her.”

“I did not know she was incapable of enjoying a short time out of doors,” he retorted, voice somewhat more stern than before.

“It is a thing you would have known if you spent any time with her yesterday evening or this morning at breakfast,” Felicity argued, pulled her shawl tighter about herself as the cold seeped through the thin fabric. Why on earth had she not requested her pelisse from Peter? “If you were more attentive to her, as a guardian ought to be, you would not need to issue commands without having a full understanding of the situation.”

Colonel Halstead turned away from her, then back and came a step closer. “Miss Price, while I respect your role as Daphne’s aunt, I must ask you to remember that you are here at my home, and by my invitation. You should also remember that I am the one responsible for making decisions regarding Daphne—not you.”

Felicity’s anger bubbled upward and she took several steps closer, her chin tilting up to better look up into his sharp-eyed glare. She would not be cowed. “It is quite difficult to recognize your authority, Colonel, when you are so distant and removed from the very person you are supposed to protect.” Her voice trembled as the cold sank through her slippers. She really ought to have put on a coat before coming outside. “I recognize your efforts in Town, but while you are at home I thought you meant to get to know Daphne? How else will you know what is best for her?”

His eyes narrowed as he glared down at her. When he spoke, his tone was as chilly as the weather. “You do not understand me, Miss Price. That is obvious.”

“I understand you enough to know you are exactly like your house.” She pointed to the building behind her. “You may look fine enough on the outside, but inside? Inside you are hollow. Unwelcoming. Cold.”

Halstead appeared stunned, as though her words struck him harder than she had expected. He looked over her shoulder at the house, then back at her. “What on earth does my house have to do with anything?”

“I told you before, a home reflects its master.” Felicity pulled her shawl tighter, ignoring the nudge of guilt against her conscious. Her tongue continued on, sharper than before, as it always did when her temper gained the better of her. “Your home is merely an empty shell, without warmth, without life, without a touch of beauty or comfort inside of it.”

The Colonel, clearly affected, tightened his jaw. “Miss Price. You do not know me well enough to pass such a judgment.”

Felicity lifted her chin, meeting his gaze evenly, and replied, “Nor do you know me, Colonel Halstead—or Daphne. And until you take the time to do so, I cannot see us working together for her good.”

Halstead appeared completely caught off guard by Felicity’s accusation, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find a response. Instead of answering her outright, he turned away, looking toward the barren rose garden as if searching for answers among the thorns. “I…I’d never given much thought to the house. It didn’t seem necessary to fill it with things, living there alone.”

Felicity, having spoken more sharply than she intended, felt a stab of remorse, but she could not take back her words. Not when she had spoken them for Daphne’s sake. Yet she felt herself softening, somewhat. “You are not living there alone anymore, Halstead.”

He said nothing but turned again, staring at her with new regard. Studying her.

Still frowning, though. Still disapproving. But he moved a step closer, brow furrowed, and something about the intensity of his stare made it impossible to look away.

At that moment, an unexpected shiver passed through her. Due to the cold, of course. Felicity would not attribute her sudden intake of breath and tremble of her body to anything else.

Halstead kept moving toward her and she was in half a mind to step back—before without a word, the man shrugged off his coat and draped it around her shoulders before she could protest.

Felicity stiffened, but the sudden warmth was undeniable. The weight of his coat settled across her shoulders, heavier than she expected. Warmer, too, and it smelled of him, of bergamot and leather and ink. She loathed how much she noticed. How easily kindness from the man she meant to scold could unravel her focus. But she would not let it; warmth would not move her. Not his, not anyone’s.

Even if it was an unspoken act of care, contradicting her words about him being cold and unfeeling. A thing that made her prickle with awareness even as she pulled the wool coat tighter about herself.

Colonel Halstead gave a sharp nod and looked away before he spoke again, his voice quieter. “I don’t know how to make the house more suitable, Miss Price. But I know how to protect what is mine.”

She stared at him, realization dawning that perhaps his detachment wasn’t the apathy or carelessness she had feared—it was something else. Though she still stood her ground, she did not want to be softened by his gesture. She had to keep Daphne at the forefront of her thoughts…no matter how wonderful his coat smelled. “Then protect Daphne properly, Colonel Halstead. Not like a soldier guarding a post, but like a guardian watching over someone he cares for.”

Halstead turned back to her, his expression unreadable, studying her as if trying to decide whether to be angry or impressed. Finally, he nodded. “Very well. But if I do, I expect the same of you.”

“I have done nothing but care for Daphne,” she countered.

“Then prove to me you are willing to let me do the same. Listen to my wishes regarding her protection.”

A beat of silence passed between them before Felicity inclined her head ever so slightly. “I am listening now, sir.”

His gloved hands tightened into fists. “You…you do not understand the dangers a woman of her age and beauty, let alone her inheritance will face, Miss Price. She cannot be left alone, even with those you believe she trusts, those who purport to be her friends.”

She had to shake her head at his pronouncement. “That will make her an outsider. No one will wish to have her along on outings if her maiden aunt must always be attached to her, as though she is on leading strings.”

His stance remained firm. “Nevertheless, it is what I require as her guardian.”

Felicity wanted to stomp her foot and demand he see reason. Instead, she took in a deep breath and let it out again, slowly. “I cannot think why you would require such a thing. Tell me why, Halstead—tell me your reason for such a thing. Help me to understand.”

Though she had made the request, she did not expect him to answer. Not really. So when the Colonel took a measured breath and spoke, his tone low and dark, she held completely still.

“I have seen what happens when young ladies are left unchecked. Society may be filled with polite manners and refined company, but behind the civility is danger.” He turned away from her, and she had to strain to hear his voice once his back was turned. “I once knew a young woman much like Daphne. She was full of life. Witty. Lovely to look upon—yet she suffered the consequences of misplaced trust. Life-changing consequences for herself, for others. Nothing…nothing was ever the same for her again.”

He provided no further details, but even those few words were enough for Felicity to sense his demands did not stem from unfounded fears. There was a story there; a story he was not yet willing to tell.

“It’s not just propriety, Miss Price. There are men who take advantage of young ladies who trust too easily—I’ve seen it. I refuse to let it happen to Daphne.”

Felicity took care to consider his words, but could not fully accept his argument. “I realize that by being a woman, many think I cannot know much about the world, especially as I am unmarried. But I am not ignorant of the sort of danger that you speak of, Halstead. I have prepared Daphne to recognize such dangers.” She tried to smile, but his stern countenance made it wilt from her face. “I know you are concerned. But suffocating Daphne will only make her more susceptible to harm. Not less.” He seemed ready to argue, but she quickly continued, “Fear cannot be her guiding principle, Colonel. She must learn to navigate the world, not hide from it.”

“I am not suggesting she hide,” he said gruffly. “Merely that she be guarded.”

They would get nowhere without one of them giving in. At least a little. “Then I propose a compromise.”

His eyebrows raised. “I am listening, Miss Price.”

“Let us try to give Daphne more freedom but under watchful guidance, ensuring she is neither left to her naiveté nor wholly restricted.”

He stepped closer. “How do you propose we do that without leaving her open to harm, Captain?”

She stared straight back at him, unflinching, trying not to smile at the nickname which he had given her. “You cannot loom over her and every friend she makes, every gentleman who wishes to call on her. You will ruin her chances of finding a happy life.”

“Perhaps you are too willing to risk her reputation, leaving her in an unhappy situation.”

Her jaw dropped open at the man’s audacity. “Colonel Halstead, I have done everything I could for Daphne’s happiness and security since she was a child. I want to see her happy, to see her well settled, with friends who support her and a husband who will care for her. To set her up for the rest of her life.”

The Colonel shook his head and pointed at her, his finger hovering over the lapel of his coat on her shoulders. “And how do you propose to ensure such things for her, Miss Price, when you have been unsuccessful in finding them for yourself?”

The chill air struck all the harder when the heat left Felicity’s body, humiliation flooding her like water from a cold spring. She swallowed back her hurt. “How—how dare you, sir?” she whispered, the words rasping out. “You know nothing, nothing of my circumstances.”

She had survived pity before. Dismissal. Even the faint, polite scorn of Society.

But this—this man, this stranger, cutting to the quick with a single, careless observation—was nearly too much. The pain of it struck sharp and sudden behind her ribs. How dare he speak aloud the very thing she had spent years making peace with?

Colonel Halstead took a step back, his own face pale, speaking now as quietly as she had. “You undoubtedly think me cruel, Miss Price. You think I know nothing of how Society functions, but I know more than you can imagine. And I know that if she makes the wrong move, if she trusts the wrong person, it will be her ruin.”

Felicity, breathless, shook her head at him, words spilling out before she could halt them. “There is more than one way for a young woman’s chances to be ruined, Colonel Halstead—a thing I know all too well.” She turned on her heel and marched away as quickly as she could.

He did not call her back.

When Felicity entered the house, she shed his coat at the door and kept walking until she came to her chamber. She ought to check on Daphne, but that could wait while she regained her composure. It must wait.

Standing before her looking glass, Felicity stared at her pale countenance. There was no use thinking of the past, but the memories came anyway.

His smile.

The letters that stopped arriving.

The day she heard he’d married someone else, someone younger, richer, and prettier, of course.

And now here she was, years later, with the same old ache cracking open under a soldier’s careless words.