Page 15 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #1)

Chapter Fifteen

APRIL 19TH. 1817

E dward had promised himself he would not be overbearing tonight. It had been a conscious decision made before he stepped into the grand ballroom of Lady Kendal’s townhome: he would try, truly try, to allow Daphne some measure of independence, to grant her the freedom Felicity so often argued she deserved.

And so he did his best to remain at ease, rather than trailing Daphne’s every movement like a hound. Felicity remained close when Daphne was not in the company of a friend or on the dance floor, and for Edward’s part, he observed from a respectful distance, noting the way she laughed with her new friends and the genuine delight in her expression when Mr. Montague asked her to dance. His hands twitched at his sides, but he forced himself to remain in conversation with the gentlemen around him, only occasionally letting his gaze sweep the room to ensure all remained well.

“Have you been accosted by marriageable widows yet, Colonel?” Marlowe grinned as he stood beside him, sipping at tepid lemonade. “Ever since that crowd of ne’er-do-wells put my cousin’s name in their books, he has been inundated with matchmaking mothers. You must be suffering the same fate to a degree.”

“I am not,” Edward said evenly, refusing to rise to the bait. “No one has approached me for introductions, beyond those with sons near Daphne’s age.”

Marlowe gave him an incredulous look, eyebrows raised. “Perhaps it is your formidable appearance. Ladies likely have no wish to expose themselves to a curmudgeon.”

Edward cut him an unamused glance. It was true, he hadn’t stood about smiling like a fool, and his focus was certainly not on the other guests that evening. He hadn’t come to the ball for himself, though. He came for Daphne’s sake.

“I am starting to remember why I counted my departure from Society as no great loss.” Edward tucked his arms behind his back, his stance more in keeping with a soldier at ease than a gentleman amid splendor. “The crowds are terrible.”

“After a man weds, these things do seem superfluous.” Marlowe sipped at his lemonade and grimaced. “But it is always good to be seen in the right places, and by the right people—and my wife does enjoy dancing. Perhaps you will be so kind as to ask her for one? These ridiculous rules against dancing with one’s spouse prohibit me the pleasure, of course.”

The request was not inappropriate, and Edward liked Marlowe enough to grant it. His wife seemed a pleasant sort for conversation. However… “I had thought to remain without partners this evening, the better to watch after Daphne. Should she need anything.”

“Your ward will be fine, Colonel.” Marlowe chuckled and shook his head, his smile broad. “You worry too much. Besides, she has her aunt to keep an eye on her too. Try to enjoy yourself—let the girl have a little freedom from your ever watchful eye.”

“That is what her aunt says.” Edward winced when he heard the complaint in his tone.

“Do you not trust her?”

“I trust Miss Price completely. She has her niece’s best interests at heart?—”

Marlowe cleared his throat. “I meant, do you not trust your ward? But I suppose trusting the aunt is important, too, given that you have to place so much faith in her. Amazing, really, that you have not minded her interference when the girl’s future is your responsibility.”

“It is hardly interference. She practically raised Daphne.”

“Yes, but the girl is grown now. Or nearly so. And your duty will end when she is wed, which may not be this Season, but it will surely not be long.” Marlowe shrugged carelessly. “It is not as though you are her father, after all.”

Edward stared at the man, uncomprehending his argument. “She is my responsibility. Her own father entrusted her well-being to me, now he is no longer here to protect her. I take it very seriously.”

“Oh.” Marlowe shrunk somewhat. “Of course. Very honorable. Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Ah—I see someone I need to speak to. Excuse me.”

Watching him go, Edward shook his head as slightly as he could manage. What a thing, for a man to think so little of duty. Perhaps others would see Daphne as merely a thing to pawn off on another, or indeed her aunt as an unwelcome complication, but Edward could not contemplate such things himself. His duty to Anthony Price’s memory and trust was one thing, but compassion and human decency certainly reinforced his decisions in those regards.

He straightened his black coat and checked the watch tucked into his deep green waistcoat. They had not even been at the ball for an hour yet, and the blasted thing went well past midnight. How would he get through it?

He was doing precisely what Felicity wished him to do, and yet a gnawing sense of unease would not leave him be. The room’s size made it difficult to see everything and everyone at once. The music, combined with chatter and laughter of guests, overwhelmed him with sound, not to mention the scent of many bodies wearing all sorts of oils and perfumes assaulted his nose at every moment.

He had been among unwashed soldiers and not minded the pungent odor as much as he minded it here. Why did everyone have to reek of rose oil and jasmine? There were subtler scents. Felicity often wore a lighter, citrus scent that cut through other things most pleasantly.

“Probably shouldn’t notice that,” Edward muttered to himself and gained a sideways look from two older women for his indiscretion. He forced a smile and nodded to them. One raised her fan and spoke behind it to her friend while both of them stared.

He turned away. For his own sanity’s sake, he needed to stop thinking about smells and sounds if he wanted to get through the evening without a headache…or without people thinking him stranger than they already did.

Perhaps a distraction was in order.

His gaze landed on Felicity, standing just beyond the dance floor, ever watchful, ever composed. She had dressed appropriately for the occasion, but still wore mourning colors—though not the deep blacks of fresh grief. Her gown was a simple, elegant chocolate brown, a rich shade that only made the warm depths of her eyes more striking.

Without examining the impulse, he crossed the room. “Miss Price,” he greeted, allowing himself the pleasure of seeing the flicker of surprise in her expression before she hid it away. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

Felicity’s lips parted before her brow drew down. “You—you wish to dance?”

He did. “I do.” Especially if he could secure a waltz with her.

“But in the carriage—you said you disliked dancing.”

“Ah. Yes.” So he had. “I should amend the statement. I do not mind it, if my partner is an enjoyable companion.”

“You find my company enjoyable?”

Why did she sound so surprised?

Edward lowered his gaze to the ground for a moment. “Is that so astonishing?” Then he raised his eyes, but kept his head tipped down, trying to win her over with a smile. Hoping to see her smile.

Her lips curved, but the expression did not quite reach her eyes. “Chaperones do not dance, Colonel. Especially when it is a waltz, which is what I believe is next.”

His chest tightened at the quiet refusal. “I see.” He shifted slightly, acting as though the rejection had not affected him. “And that poses a problem.”

“I do not think you ought to be seen dancing with me, either,” she added, a flush that was not a flush gracing her cheeks. “Best if we maintain a respectable distance from each other. In public, especially.”

That was an entirely different matter, yet he understood. “I imagine you have no desire to give anyone the wrong ideas?”

Felicity inclined her head, but something in her gaze softened. “I think it best we not invite speculation or gossip. For Daphne’s sake.” She glanced away as the music swelled, beginning another song, another dance. When she spoke again, he had to strain to hear her. “I have already had to quell well-meaning comments on the matter.”

Had she? That didn’t please him. “I understand,” he said quietly. And he did. But that did not mean he had to linger. In fact, it was best if he did not. “If you will excuse me, Miss Price.”

“Of course, Colonel.”

Did he imagine the disappointment in her eyes?

Edward left her at the edge of the ballroom, stepping out through the terrace doors and into the cool, crisp air of the gardens. The distant strains of music and laughter filtered through the hedges, but he ignored them, focusing instead on the peace of the evening.

“Get hold of yourself, man,” he muttered, then cursed at himself for speaking aloud again. He was not in his own gardens, free to speak his mind as he beheld his flourishing roses.

Edward walked deeper into the garden and the night air. He took in several deep breaths, and closed his eyes. Despite the relative tranquility of the gardens, his inner state tumbled with confusion. He had known for some time that his feelings for Felicity were not strictly appropriate. Not for a man in his position, not for a woman in hers. But tonight, with the warmth of her rejection still lingering, the truth was far more difficult to ignore.

Did he want her?

The answer was undeniable.

Did he care for her? Or was this merely surface level, physical yearning?

Edward exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if the gesture might dispel the thoughts entirely. He had come outside to clear his mind, not to sink deeper into the confusion she so effortlessly inspired.

And yet here he was, once again, wrapped up in thoughts of the woman with dark eyes and a stubborn chin. A woman he respected, who lived beneath his roof. A woman who showed a strength of intelligence and compassion, even toward him when he did not bend to her will.

Goodness, he had not let his thoughts get this tangled over a woman in a long time—and never to this extent. How had he allowed this to happen? And what could he do about it now?

Before Edward came anywhere near solving the problem, he heard a murmur of voices drifting through the neatly trimmed hedges behind him. Edward stilled, recognizing one of them immediately.

Daphne.

Had she slipped out of the ballroom when he left? Had Felicity accompanied her?

He took a quiet step forward, ears straining to catch the words, hoping treacherously to hear Felicity’s voice.

“You must admit, Colonel Halstead is rather overzealous in his concern,” came Lady Louisa’s voice, amusement evident in her tone.

“You needn’t tell me,” Daphne replied, exasperation and humor woven through her words. “He watches me like I am bound to tumble down a well at the slightest provocation.”

Lady Louisa giggled. “Even my father does not watch me so,” the Earl’s daughter chimed in, her voice dripping with condescension. “My mother rarely pays attention to what I do, even within her sight. I should go mad if I were you, Miss Price.”

A male voice, the young Mr. Montague’s, spoke next. “He is a concerned guardian. I think he means only to keep you safe, Miss Price. I know I have felt overly protective of my sister on occasion.”

“Yes, but that is your sister,” Lady Louisa said, annoyance in her tone. “She is your blood. The Colonel is not Miss Price’s father.”

“I am grateful to him,” Daphne said quickly. “I only wish he would?—”

“Loosen the reins?” A new voice entered the conversation, one Edward did not recognize. Male, smooth, filled with an easy sort of charm that immediately put him on edge. “There are ways around that, you know,” the stranger murmured. “One must simply learn how to be discreet.”

“You are not proposing Miss Price act deceitful,” Mr. Montague inquired, his tone cautious.

“Discretion and deceit are not the same, my dear boy.” This new man’s voice dripped with disdain. “And Miss Price strikes me as a clever young lady. Certainly, mature beyond her years. I am certain, should she wish it, she could find a way to pursue what she pleased without her guardian knowing.”

“I slip my leash all the time,” Lady Louisa said lightly with a laugh. “Come, Daphne. You must wish to seize more freedom for yourself. It is delightful to do as one pleases.”

Edward’s blood turned to ice.

Without another thought, he stepped through the hedge, emerging into the candlelit garden path before Daphne could answer.

The conversation halted instantly.

Daphne turned, eyes widening. “Colonel!”

“Daphne.” Edward’s gaze did not leave the unknown gentleman, his stance deceptively relaxed. “I do not believe we have met. I am Colonel Halstead. And you are?”

The man smiled, but it did not reach his eyes, and he did not incline his head. “Mr. Richard Arnold. My father is Lord Dalton. A pleasure, Colonel Halstead.”

Edward did not return the pleasantry. His voice was quiet, but no less dangerous for it. “I imagine we shall see about that.” He held his arm out to his ward. “Come, Daphne. Your aunt will be wondering where you have disappeared off to.”

His ward lowered her gaze as she accepted his escort, walking with him back through the garden along the most well-lit path. After a moment of silence, he said quietly, “Did your aunt give you permission to walk in the garden?”

Daphne shook her head slightly. “I—I was with Lady Louisa and Mr. Montague. Since you both know them, and it was only to take in a little fresh air, I did not think I needed to ask?—”

“No. You did not think .” Edward did not mince words. Escorting Daphne back into the ballroom, he maintained a composed facade but his jaw remained tight and his blood still pounded in his ears from that encounter. The gall of that man! To suggest Daphne deceive him; worse, that she had been allowed to wander into such a situation and such an acquaintance in the first place.

His gaze swept the room until he found Felicity, still near the edge of the dance floor, speaking with another woman he did not know.

Good. At least he did not have to search her out, even if she was not with Daphne as she ought to have been.

With a measured breath, he approached and spoke to his ward in a low voice. “Daphne Price, do not leave the ballroom again without speaking to either me or your aunt.”

Daphne swallowed, a blush staining her cheeks, clearly aware that an argument would be futile. “Yes, Colonel.”

He gestured to Miss Montague and Miss Norman near the refreshments. “Go to your friends. We will leave shortly.”

She lowered her head and nodded, releasing his arm to walk the short distance to the refreshment table.

Redirecting himself toward Felicity, Edward closed the space between himself and the woman with slow, deliberate steps. They were in public, it would not do to draw attention. The woman she spoke with stepped away before he obtained a place at her side, and Felicity looked up at him with a smile which instantly shifted to an expression of concern.

“What is it?”

He kept his voice low, his words meant for her alone. “Did you know Daphne was in the gardens?”

A flicker of something passed over her face. Did he imagine it was more guilt than surprise? It was gone in an instant, replaced by her usual calm expression. “No,” she admitted calmly. “But she was with Lady Louisa when last I looked. She was not out there alone, I take it?”

“No. But Lady Louisa’s company wasn’t all she kept.” His tone hardened, though he remained mindful of others conversing and moving about nearby. “Mr. Montague was there as well, and a Mr. Arnold. That particular fool was instructing her on how to sneak about without my knowledge, how to avoid our watch and do—do what she—tell me, Miss Price, do you also believe Daphne should learn how to deceive us? How to slip my watchful eye?”

Felicity’s lips parted slightly, and hurt flashed in her dark eyes. “Of course not,” she whispered as that chin lifted. “But I do not think you should speak to me in this manner. Not here.”

The firmness in her voice should not have surprised him, but it did. Even so, it did not temper his frustration. He exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers flexing at his sides before he could curl them into fists. Fists he would greatly like to use on the Arnold boy.

“Then we will discuss it later,” he said, the words clipped. “But understand me, Miss Price. I will not have Daphne influenced by those who would encourage reckless, dangerous behavior.”

Felicity’s smile was forced and brittle, but her composure was steady, despite the tension between them. “And I will not have you imply that I do not have her best interests at heart.”

The silence between them crackled like the air before a lightning strike. His shoulders remained rigid, his breath controlled, but the sharp gleam of disappointment in her eyes unsettled him in ways he did not wish to name.

The music swelled behind them as the orchestra began anew. A waltz.

For a fleeting moment, Edward wondered if she regretted refusing him. His eyes stayed on hers, trying to read her. She would not dance with him, would not allow herself to be seen with him in any way that would spark gossip. And yet this moment between them, thick with unspoken words and frustration, felt far more intimate than any dance could have been.

Felicity broke the stare as she inclined her head in a graceful, measured way. “If you will excuse me, Colonel.”

He had no choice but to incline his own head in return. “Miss Price.”

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving him to grapple with the bitter taste of frustration and something else.

Something that felt dangerously like regret.