Page 14 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #1)

Chapter Fourteen

“F orty-nine days,” Edward murmured, staring at the reading room shelves. He sat in Blackstone’s, of course, whiling away the hours while Felicity and Daphne paid polite calls in London’s finer neighborhoods. Despite his estate’s nearness to Town, he had no intention of sending them off on visiting days without him. When they were ready to depart for home, they would bring the carriage and the coachman would fetch him.

Mr. Harold Marlowe, the man responsible for Edward’s introduction to Lord Blackstone, looked up from his book. They were not yet friends, in truth, but they did not mind one another’s company. “Did you say something, Colonel?”

Edward shook his head. “Oh, nothing of consequence. It has been forty-nine days since I received the letter about my ward.” In forty-nine days, his whole life had changed. His responsibility to Daphne necessitated a complete adjustment of his priorities, putting her well-being first and foremost in his mind and plans.

He only hoped Anthony Price’s trust hadn’t been misplaced.

The same amount of time had passed since he learned of Miss Felicity Price, a woman who had immediately set about to prove he had no idea what it meant to provide for her niece; a woman who by turns frustrated and fascinated him as they learned to work together for Daphne’s sake. Captain Felicity Price had never shied away from speaking her mind to him, from being direct; instead she squared her shoulders and delivered her thoughts to him as though used to facing down men far more intimidating than himself.

Of late, he could not seem to get the image of her out of his head. If Edward looked out the window, he remembered the day he put his coat on her shoulders while she argued vociferously with him. If he trained his gaze anywhere indoors, especially in his study, he pictured her sitting across the desk with her slight, knowing smile and intelligent eyes.

Thank goodness for Blackstone’s. In a place full of gentlemen, he did not need to think about Felicity. Nor did he need to worry overmuch about Daphne while she was out making social calls. Instead, he refocused his mind on his own business: tasks at the estate, the progress of his investigator?—

The door to the reading room burst open and several men spilled in, most of them holding glasses of spirits and the one leading the fray grasping a familiar tome.

The club’s betting book.

Every gentleman’s club in London had one, though not all were treated as holy books. Blackstone’s book in particular seemed to be more a bit of fun than something to seriously concern oneself with.

“What are all of you doing in here?” the man with the book, one Lord Henry Philbrook said. “The Season has started properly, and we must get down all the names of the poor souls the mamas of the ton have in their sights.”

Marlowe groaned and sank into his chair. “Not this again. Every single year…” He held his book closer to his face in an attempt to hide.

The man with the book sighted him. “Marlowe, dear fellow! Haven’t you a cousin on the list of bachelors?”

“The boy is only twenty,” Marlowe said, snapping his book shut and shaking a finger at them. “Far too young to wed, no matter what the scheming women of London may think.”

“A good age for a debutante,” someone argued. “Better an eighteen year old wed a man of twenty than someone old and feeble, like Colonel Halstead.”

A round of laughter filled the previously silent reading room.

Despite his finer feelings, Edward forced himself to chuckle and shook his head. “I assure you, I have no intention of robbing schoolrooms or nurseries—nor do I have any plans to wed this Season or any other.”

Several of the men booed, a few cheered, but Lord Henry opened the book and took out a sharpened pencil. He ceremoniously licked the tip of it, grinned at Edward, and spoke aloud as he wrote. “Colonel Edward Halstead, bachelor of mature—nay, advanced age.” He looked around at the other men. “Who thinks he will be the target of the mamas themselves? Perhaps a widow with six children?”

Mr. Norman walked into the room then, looking about as he ran a hand through his hat-flattened hair. “What is all this noise? I heard you lot bellowing like bull calves as I came in downstairs—the neighbors will complain to Lord Blackstone again.”

“It is the Season, Norman.” One of the men pushed a glass of brandy into the newcomer’s hand while Edward shook his head. The men had all gone mad. “Widows and ambitious mamas are sharpening their claws—and our dear friend here, the Colonel, is unattached.”

“With a fine estate,” Marlowe, the traitor, added with twinkling eyes. “He bought it outright with his prize money from the war, it was in the papers.”

Lord Henry waved the book under Edward’s nose. “You will have every woman over thirty years vying for your attention, Colonel. Leave some for the rest of us!”

Edward pushed the book away, unable to help his grimace. The idea was distasteful, and hopefully far-fetched. “Spare me. My interest in women begins and ends with seeing my ward happily settled. I want nothing more to do with their world.”

Felicity’s knowing smile appeared traitorously in his thoughts.

The men were all laughing—but then, mercifully, they focused on someone else, a lone man in the corner trying to hide behind the newssheets, and the mob moved in that direction. Marlowe shook his head as they went, and Norman gave Edward a consoling pat on the shoulder.

“I am sorry for you, friend,” Norman said.

Edward looked up. “Whatever for?”

“Despite them saying it is the women at work in this mart of theirs,” Marlowe explained, his nose wrinkled, “every one of those fellows has an unwed female relative. You are in their sights now. They will tell their wives, sisters, mothers, cousins, and so on and so forth, all about Colonel Halstead’s bachelorhood.”

“You will be a fine prize.” Norman’s understanding sympathy froze on his face. His eyebrows raised. “Unless, of course, you already have a lady in your sights?”

Edward groaned and closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “No, I do not. My focus is on my ward’s happiness. This is her first Season—she is young. There will likely be more Seasons for young Daphne, I hope there will be more. I have no matrimonial thoughts beyond making certain she is well settled. In time.”

A new voice chuckled with a plummy voice from behind Edward’s chair. “A man who concerns himself only with the happiness of others, and not his own, soon finds himself a ghost haunting the edges of a life he ought to have lived.”

Edward opened his eyes and bolted to his feet. “Lord Blackstone—I did not see you come in.”

Marlowe had stood as well and all three of them bowed to the viscount, who waved aside the formalities.

Norman spoke first. “Forgive me, my lord, but what you said sounded quite philosophical. I did not know you dabbled in such things.”

“Only when I see someone in need of it do I dispense my wisdom.” He chuckled and winked at Edward. “Colonel, you remind me of that owl over the fireplace. Stuck in one place, frozen in time, watching the world move on without him.”

The other two chuckled, but as Edward looked at the owl in question—someone had put a pair of tiny spectacles on its beak—he felt something shift uncomfortably in his chest. He shook his head. “I have been far too often away from my comfortable chair in front of my own fire, my lord. The comparison is not apt.”

“Hmmm. I am not certain of that.” Norman chuckled and leaned against the back of Edward’s chair. “I must be a decade older than you, but you were the one acting like an old codger at our picnic two days’ past.”

Marlowe had not returned to his seat, and when the viscount gestured, the younger man quickly stepped aside to allow Lord Blackstone to take it for himself.

Their host settled into the chair, eyes on Edward the entire time with a maddeningly knowing expression. “You mistake me, Colonel. It is not about movement, it is about stillness. The owl watches the world, but it does not live in it. Tell me, when was the last time you did something simply for the joy of it?”

Edward scoffed. He opened his mouth to speak, then paused. “That…is a good question, my lord.” What had he enjoyed lately? The picnic at Hyde Park had been tolerable. Especially after he and Felicity fed the ducks, then walked along the Serpentine. But he had found the afternoon pleasant because of her company, and he could hardly admit such a thing to these men. They gossiped terribly, it seemed.

“I wonder that you only mention the younger of the two Miss Prices in your concerns, Colonel.” Norman walked around where Edward sat to stand behind Lord Blackstone’s chair instead, raising a quizzical brow as he did so.

It was as though the man had somehow read Edward’s mind, and his stomach twisted uncomfortably. Nevertheless, he spoke with as much coolness in his tone as he could manage. “Miss Felicity Price is not on the marriage mart.”

“And yet she is a handsome woman, is she not?” Norman asked, eyebrows raised. Marlowe and Blackstone both seemed intrigued by this line of questioning.

“I do not think she would take kindly to such discussions about her person.” Edward kept his tone even, yet that seemed to make the three men in front of him all the more curious. Blast .

“Now that is a fascinating response,” Lord Blackstone said, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Absolutely fascinating.”

Edward scowled at all three of them. Though he need not trouble himself, truly. Felicity had said herself she had no thoughts for marriage. She was independent, headstrong, and she did not need him as a defender. He had never asked to occupy that role. Except… Well. He had told her she was part of his household, therefore he concerned himself with her happiness and safety.

“Ah well. As I am a happily married man, and Marlowe too, you have nothing to fear from us.” Norman patted Edward on the shoulder one more time. “But brace yourself, old fellow. It will not be long until people note the charming woman chaperoning your ward, living with you to boot, and will ask more questions.”

At that moment, a footman appeared with a bow. “Colonel Halstead, sir. Your coachman has arrived.”

Edward stood and bowed, saying his farewells with a certain amount of relief before he left in as unhurried a manner as possible. When he stepped out of the club onto the street, he remained unsettled.

Blackstone’s comparison to the stuffed owl sat stuck to him as Marlowe and Norman’s words bounced between his ears like a billiard ball struck too hard against the side of the table.

Pushing the conversation as firmly from his mind as he could, Edward rolled his shoulders and fixed a pleasant expression on his face to greet the ladies in his waiting carriage.

He looked up at his carriage only to see that it was empty.

His brow furrowed. Where was Felicity? What was she doing at that moment? And why did her absence when he expected to see her annoy him so much?

“Where are Miss Price and Miss Daphne?” he asked the coachman, not even moving to step inside.

The coachman winced. “Erm…my apologies, Colonel, but Miss Price accepted an invitation to accompany another lady on an outing. Didn’t seem like she could get out of it?”

Edward stiffened. An outing? With whom? Where? He narrowed his eyes. “Take me to them at once.”

* * *

The warmth of the parlor fire provided a comfortable contrast to the brisk April air outside, though Felicity hardly felt at ease with the brisk direction of the conversation. Mrs. Norman’s needle threaded smoothly through her embroidery hoop, her voice mild but pointed.

“You must forgive me, Miss Price,” she said, glancing up with a cheery smile, “but I cannot help but remark upon the way you and Colonel Halstead worked together so delightfully during our picnic.”

Felicity adjusted the tray of biscuits on the table in front of her, carefully composed, though her stomach twisted at the remark. “Worked together?” she echoed lightly. Her mind raced to recall the details: the way Edward had spoken to her, moved to help stay the pages of her book, walked alongside her as they trailed the young people. Nothing about their conduct had been inappropriate, surely?

Mrs. Norman’s smile deepened, revealing a dimple in one cheek. “Yes. I watched you two closely. It was quite…instructive.” Nothing about her tone seemed malicious. Her words at least seemed sincere.

That gave Felicity leave to relax somewhat, but her soft laugh still came out rather forced. “I should not think instructive is the correct word. We merely ensured Daphne could enjoy herself, a thing we somehow manage despite our disagreements on how best to keep an eye on her.”

Across the room, Daphne and Miss Norman sat close together near the window, speaking in hushed tones, the occasional giggle breaking through. Their conversation was their own, the youthful ease between them entirely natural. As it should be. They seemed completely unaware of the older women’s conversation.

Mrs. Norman set her embroidery aside, watching Felicity with something akin to amusement. “He listens to you, you know. More than he realizes, I think. More than either of you realize.”

Felicity’s fingers twitched against her skirts. “The Colonel and I are allies, nothing more. We have a shared interest in Daphne’s success, her happiness.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Norman agreed with good-natured mildness. She tilted her head, watching Felicity as though trying to look beneath the surface. “I imagine there is nothing more frustrating than a reluctant ally. And yet, I saw something else between you. Something companionable.”

“I suppose we must get along, to an extent, for Daphne’s well-being.” Heat was rising up her neck. She needed to keep the blush away, and sipping the tepid tea hardly helped. “It is not a permanent arrangement.”

The married woman hesitated a moment, her expression turning almost pained. “My dear, I do not mean to imply anything untoward.”

Felicity’s lips pressed together, but she refused to answer with anything other than politeness in her tone. “Governesses and companions often reside in bachelor households,” she pointed out, her voice even. “I am not unique in my situation.”

Mrs. Norman gave a soft hum. “No, you are not. But forgive me for being so blunt, Miss Price—you are unmarried, and while the circumstances are clear enough, there are those who may whisper. You know how Society is, Miss Price.”

Felicity did know. Far too well. She folded her hands neatly in her lap, nodding. “Which is why my focus remains entirely on my niece. Once she is settled, I will move on. Colonel Halstead understands that.”

Mrs. Norman’s expression softened. “That may be, but I hope you will allow yourself to make friends while you are here. If nothing else, I should like to be counted among them.”

Felicity blinked at the genuine kindness in the other woman’s voice. A quiet warmth settled in her chest, and though it was foreign and unexpected, she did not reject it. Instead, she gave a small, sincere smile. “That is very kind of you, Mrs. Norman.”

The lady returned her smile. “I do like what I know of you, Miss Price. I intend to prove myself a true friend. Women need each other in this world, you know.”

Before Felicity could respond, Daphne and Miss Norman’s hushed conversation dissolved into another fit of giggles. She turned slightly, catching the unmistakable brightness in Daphne’s expression. The laughter, the carefree way she spoke at a rapid pace; it was a sight Felicity had worried she would never see again after Anthony’s passing.

Mrs. Norman followed her gaze. “You see? Even the young ones need each other,” she murmured. “And I must say, your niece is flourishing under your care.”

Felicity exhaled, the tension easing from her shoulders. Yes. That was what mattered.

The rest of the visit passed quickly, and without any more uncomfortable topics broached. Their social calendars had been compared, aligned, and advised upon. The young ladies were happy. They could climb into their carriage and fetch the Colonel from his club at last.

Now why had she thought that—at last?

Ignoring the thought as best she could as they left the Norman home and stepped into the brisk air, Felicity let out a slow breath, still mulling over Mrs. Norman’s words. But before she could settle her thoughts, a familiar voice called out.

“Miss Price! Miss Daphne!”

Felicity turned to see Lady Kendal and Lady Louisa descending from their own elegant carriage, both dressed in the highest of fashion. The mother fairly glittered with tiny jewels at her throat and ears while her daughter’s ringlets bounced perfectly around her face.

Lady Kendal was all smooth authority, her gaze as sharp as ever as she approached. “What a fortunate coincidence,” she said with a faint smile. “We were discussing our meeting of the Ladies’ Charitable Society, and thought you and Miss Daphne might care to join us.”

Felicity hesitated, glancing toward Daphne, who looked between them with a mixture of interest and uncertainty.

The polite refusal formed swiftly in her mind, but before she could utter it, Lady Kendal added smoothly, “I am certain Colonel Halstead will not object. Indeed, according to my Louisa, he seems quite dedicated to ensuring Miss Daphne’s social engagements are appropriate. What better company than ourselves, and for such a good cause?”

Felicity’s spine stiffened. It was a challenge, lightly spoken but unmistakable. To refuse would seem ungracious, but to accept without consulting Edward could be construed as her overstepping.

It was a puzzle, but if she explained the situation to him later, she was certain he would understand. Turning away an invitation from a peeress was never a wise course of action.

“Of course, my lady. We would be honored.”

Lady Kendal’s smile widened just slightly. “Excellent. We are gathering at Lady Denton’s home this afternoon. Come, ride in our carriage with us. We are but a street away.”

Felicity turned to the coachman, giving quick murmured instructions. “Take our carriage to Colonel Halstead. Let him know where we are, and that we shall return home later.”

The man nodded, touching his hat before climbing into the driver’s seat.

As the ladies entered Lady Kendal’s carriage, Felicity forced down her dislike of the altered course of the afternoon. She was not one to throw out plans, and the impromptu invitation struck her as calculated in some way. And, if she was being truly honest, she was rather curious to see what Edward would do about it, given his need to remain informed and in control of Daphne’s comings and goings.

But she could not think of that now. When they arrived at the home of the countess hosting the committee, Felicity could not help admiring it. The drawing room of Lady Denton’s home was pleasantly warm, the scent of beeswax polish and freshly brewed tea mingling with the faint perfume of the well-dressed women gathered within made it feel like a haven of femininity. It made her long for her brother’s home, or her parents’. She could not help contrasting the welcoming decor with the sparseness of Briarwood.

Felicity sat beside Lady Kendal on a lovely scarlet settee, her hands folded neatly in her lap as she listened to an elderly dowager, Sarah, Countess Whitby, speak of charitable funds allocated to widows of war veterans. Daphne sat across from her, engaged in polite and demure conversation with Lady Louisa. Though her niece had initially seemed nervous about the visit, she now acted perfectly at ease, nodding attentively and offering quiet smiles.

Felicity should have felt content…and yet she could not shake the lingering tension in her chest.

Lady Kendal had made the invitation seem effortless, a mere polite suggestion. But Felicity knew better. The woman was testing her; testing how pliable she was, how well she understood the delicate games of Society.

Her fingers tightened around her teacup as she considered her position. As Daphne’s aunt, and a gentlewoman with her own income, albeit small, she ought to act as an equal in the company of fine women. Filling the role of companion to her niece put her lower in status, true, yet kept tongues from wagging about her living arrangement.

Was Lady Kendal prying? Or was her attention to the Price ladies innocent?

What was to be gained either way?

The rules of Society were often interpreted by the powerful in whatever way they wished. All she could truly do was wait and see what came next.

She did not have long to wait.

“I understand, from what Lady Kendal tells me,” a woman named Mrs. Plumpton said from another chair, “that you reside with your niece at the home of her guardian. Is that so, Miss Price?”

Felicity kept her hands delicately folded in her lap. “We do. My late brother’s will specified that I was to remain with my niece until she no longer had need of me.”

“Her guardian is a Mr. Edward Halstead, is he not?” another woman asked.

“Indeed, though he maintains his rank as his title. Colonel Halstead has been adamant about honoring my late brother’s wishes and has ensured only the best for my niece.” Felicity glanced to where Daphne sat, noting her niece was watching with a curious expression on her face. Dangerous ground indeed, but navigated well…so far.

Lady Kendal laughed airily and unnecessarily. “Of course he would. What man knows anything about launching a girl into Society? The man needs you, my dear.”

Although she had made that argument herself a number of times, it felt condescending when the Countess spoke that way. Felicity could hardly claim him capable on his own, though, without making her presence seem either superfluous or suspicious.

“Halstead,” the older dowager murmured. “Halstead. I know that name. His father had two sons, did he not? The elder inherited, of course. The first for the family, the second for the country, the third for God.” She seemed to drift away in thought. “That is what we always did, you know.”

Lady Kendal seemed impatient for the woman to finish speaking, as she quickly said, “Of course the name would be familiar, Lady Whitby. Were you not saying to me, a scant three days past, that you remembered some sort of rumor regarding that family?” She cut a sharp look at Felicity. “From ages and ages ago, I am certain.”

“Rumor? Oh, you mean with regards to that lady, oh, grand-niece to one of my friends. Yes. There is a story there, I believe. Though I cannot recall all the details, it was so long ago.”

Felicity found herself both hoping the dowager would fall silent and curious as to what the woman might be speaking of—but before she could secure one of the other, the doors to the parlor opened, and the air itself seemed to shift as the footman announced to the room, “Colonel Halstead, my lady.”

Edward had not, evidently, returned to his estate to await their return.

The room quieted as he entered, his dark green coat crisp, his cravat tied with military precision. When his gaze finally settled on Felicity, something flickered behind his expression.

Not anger. Not quite. Something closer to frustration mixed with reluctant amusement.

Lady Denton approached him at once, and the Colonel bowed perfectly to her. “My lady, forgive my intrusion on your meeting. I have merely come to look after my ward. I am afraid, as I am newly made a guardian to a young lady, that I am somewhat overzealous in my duties.”

The Countess fairly beamed up at him, and Felicity did not blame her in the slightest. Edward towered over all the women in the room, and it would be a difficult thing to find many men able to match him in height—or in looks. His attractiveness likely granted him all sorts of favors.

“You are welcome, of course, Colonel Halstead. The important part of our meeting is concluded, and if you do not mind the company of mere ladies, I happily welcome you to join us. Please, help yourself to some refreshment. If you spend all day at a club, as my own dear husband does, heaven only knows that you are unlikely to be sustained by the dishes they serve there .”

“You are most kind, my lady.” Edward bowed again, then turned his gaze pointedly to his ward’s companion.

Felicity set her teacup down delicately, then stood and moved to one of the tables bearing refreshment, arranging little delicacies onto a small plate. Her stomach was so completely in knots she would not be capable of eating any of it.

Edward approached, picking up his own plate. “I was not aware,” he said, his voice measured, “that my ward’s afternoon itinerary included a visit to Lady Denton’s home.”

“It was a spontaneous invitation, one I had not anticipated. I sent word to you.” Felicity kept her voice low and soft. Please, don’t make a scene …

Edward took a measured breath and turned to look at Daphne, his expression softening as he watched her. “Is she enjoying herself?”

“I believe so. But you really should ask her,” Felicity said.

Daphne, having caught his gaze, rose and approached at the quickest possible speed while still being polite before she curtsied to him. “Good afternoon, Colonel.”

“Good afternoon, Daphne. I was just asking your aunt how you are enjoying your afternoon.”

After darting a quick glance at Felicity, Daphne answered, “It has been rather wonderful, though I do find myself growing fatigued. Might we return to Briarwood soon?”

“Of course. Perhaps you ought to say your farewells?” Edward gave an approving nod before glancing back at Felicity. “As for you, Miss Price,” he said quietly, “a word?”

Felicity arched a brow but did not object. Setting her plate down, she followed him to stand near the windows with effortless grace.

He tucked his hand behind his back and pretended to look out the window. “You are playing a dangerous game, Miss Price.”

Felicity lifted her chin, schooling her expression into perfect indifference. “I am not playing any games, Colonel.” She turned to face the room as she spoke. “Would you have me decline a kind invitation from a Countess, made in public and to the betterment of your ward, merely because it was given at the last moment without advance notice? Lady Louisa likes Daphne, and her mother indulges her daughter’s whims. An earl’s daughter is a suitable friend for?—”

“I am not certain I like Lady Louisa,” he muttered.

Felicity’s lips curled upward. He sounded like a petulant little boy. “Your likes and dislikes are not as important as what is best.”

Edward grumbled, a low hum of irritation, eyes flicking toward her in clear disapproval .

But she refused to apologize, even when he scowled like that. “I am ensuring Daphne makes the right connections. You cannot fault me for that.”

“Are you always right, then?”

“I am about this.”

Felicity expected more argument, but instead something else flickered in his gaze. Not anger. Not frustration. Something that looked suspiciously like admiration.

Edward made another sound of annoyance. “You are far too stubborn indeed.” But to her great surprise, the corner of his mouth quirked up ever so slightly before he turned around again, leaving her to take leave for them with Lady Denton.