Page 17 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #1)

Chapter Seventeen

W hy on earth had Edward agreed to this?

He should have put his foot down, insisted Daphne find a more reasonable afternoon diversion.

Instead, he now found himself stalking the edge of the Serpentine, his boots grinding against the path as he kept a wary eye on the boat bobbing across the water. Daphne sat laughing at one end of the rowboat, her bonnet tipped back slightly, a cheerful smile on her face. Miss Montague sat beside her, ever poised, while Mr. Montague manned the oars with an ease that irritated Edward for absolutely no logical reason.

“A person can drown just as easily in calm waters as in a raging sea,” he muttered aloud.

Beside him, holding her bonnet to her head as she tried to keep up with his rapid pace, Felicity laughed—actually laughed. “They are perfectly safe, Edward.”

Edward did not look at her. “I do not like it.”

“You rarely like anything that is beyond your control.”

That won her a sharp look, but she merely smiled.

Edward huffed and kept walking, his stride quick, as though he could escape the ever-growing knot of worry in his chest.

Felicity kept pace. “There are no signets yet,” she mused, glancing along the shore. “Nor ducklings or goslings. But soon, I expect.” Edward frowned at the apparent change in subject, but she only continued, her voice softer now. “You care about Daphne,” she said, “but I think there is more to it than that.”

He exhaled through his nose. “You think too much.”

“Oh, dear. Is that why we do not get along?”

That brought him to a halt. Edward looked down at her, lips parted. “You think we are not getting along? Right now?”

Her smile broadened. “I think we are doing better now than previously, Edward.”

He snorted and started walking again, gaze drifting to the young people in the boat. Ridiculous.

His ward’s aunt fell into step beside him, but this time she put her hand on his arm. “What happened, years ago, that has made you so protective? What did you see?”

His steps slowed. Felicity did not press. She only waited. And somehow, that was worse. Edward kept his eyes forward, watching the shifting ripples of the Serpentine.

He did not know why he finally spoke. But he did.

“There was a young woman,” he said, his voice carefully flat.

Felicity remained silent, looking ahead, but he felt all her attention focus on him. They kept walking as he formed the words, seeking to explain. But could he explain? Were there even words for such an experience?

He swallowed hard. “You will think differently of me, after this.”

“Perhaps not,” she said lightly, as though they discussed the weather. “But you will not know unless you try.”

He did not like that. He wanted reassurances that her opinion of him would not change; or would not, at least, grow worse. But one look at her expression told him she would not make such a promise.

So, with a sigh, Edward continued. “She was a gentleman’s daughter. Not well connected, but not without means. I was—I am a second son, and I was young. Foolish.” He closed his eyes a moment and stopped walking, his mind dizzying with memories pouring back against his will. “I thought myself in love, and I thought love the best reason in the world to cast off the strictures of Society. I convinced her to meet me, time and again…in the privacy of the wood between our parents’ properties.” A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Each time I pressed the bounds of propriety more than the last. Until…” He swallowed and shook his head. “My parents found out about my indiscretion.”

Felicity stiffened slightly, but hopefully not in judgment.

Edward did not cease his tale. He opened his eyes and looked at her. “They sent me away to war, as you know.” The words came out without inflection, as though he were relating someone else’s fate.

Felicity’s brows drew together. “They forced you to leave?”

“They purchased me a commission,” he said, almost absently. “A quick, quiet way to remove a son who had embarrassed them. I was not the first, nor last.”

Felicity exhaled sharply, even so, she let him speak.

“Their letters those first years were full of disappointment, with no word of the young woman except to inform me that her parents arranged a more appropriate match for her. She did not write to me, either. I had thought, of all the rules we broke, that would have been an easy one—to correspond, to tell me what had happened. What she felt.” His voice tightened slightly. “It was not until two years ago that I learned the whole truth of the consequences she faced for our—for my recklessness.”

Felicity’s lips parted, but she said nothing. Shock had drained the color from her face. He could read no other emotion there.

Edward forced himself to continue. “As I said, she did not remain unwed,” he said, staring hard at the rippling water. “That much I knew. Her family sent her away and married her off to her distant cousin, a man with wealth enough to wipe away any stain to their reputation.”

Felicity’s hand clenched the fabric of his sleeve.

Edward exhaled slowly, deliberately. Her presence was somehow a greater comfort than he could have imagined. “I had no idea,” he said, his voice quieter. “For eighteen years, I did not know the most altering part. It was two years ago, on my father’s death bed, that he finally told me the whole of it.”

Felicity stared at him, her expression unreadable.

He forced himself to look at her, forced himself to meet her wide, dark eyes. “She had a child, early in her marriage.” he said quietly. “Too early. A boy.”

Felicity gasped softly and released him. “Oh, Edward.”

His chest felt like a vise had closed around it. “I have a son,” he said, voice shaking. “And I have never met him.” The words hung in the air, weighty and impossible to take back.

For a long moment, Felicity only looked at him. The shock had faded and in its place he had expected to see disgust. Judgment.

Instead, he saw something deep and quiet—something he hadn’t expected. Compassion. A moment later, as she stepped closer, understanding. Her fingers curved around his forearm. The touch was not light. It was steady.

His throat worked, but he did not pull away.

“You have paid for your mistakes, Edward—more than you ought to have. And now, I can see you wish to protect others from making those same mistakes.”

He looked out to the rowboat. He took in a deep breath. “I cannot fail Daphne, or her father, or you. History will not repeat itself.”

For a moment, Felicity leaned her head against his shoulder. The touch sent warmth through him, as though she had embraced him. “Thank you for telling me.”

He nodded tightly. “You see now why Daphne must be watched.”

“I see why you feel that way, yes,” she said, tone still soft, still understanding. “I think there is more we ought to discuss. But later. At home.”

“I agree.” And he did his best to ignore the way his heart fluttered in that moment. He was too busy feeling relief because she had not rejected him.

He did not have the energy to recognize the delight that she had called his house home .