Page 19 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #1)

Chapter Nineteen

A clock somewhere in the house chimed the hour. One o’clock in the morning.

Truly, all decent folk not out for an evening’s entertainment ought to be in bed; but Felicity had left her chamber in search of nothing more than a moment’s peace from her racing thoughts, hoping a short walk through the corridors of Briarwood might settle her mind. As she passed a window, the glow of the moonlight on the garden paths caught her eye, and before she knew it she found herself pushing open an outer door.

She could not regret stepping out into the cool night air, for the moment she breathed it in, her mind grew clearer. Wrapping her shawl more tightly around herself, even though the spring chill was not unpleasant, Felicity walked the garden paths, her slippers hardly making a sound on the stone. It was quiet here, peaceful, the kind of hush that made it easier to think…and harder to hide from her thoughts.

Her footsteps taking her there of their own accord, she came to the most dominant, and likely most loved, portion of the gardens. Her fingers traced lightly over the thorny branches of the rosebushes, brushing against something softer than expected.

A bud. The first of the season. She smiled to herself, despite her tangled thoughts. No matter what came, the seasons turned, and new things found life. The thought settled strangely in her chest, warm and wistful all at once.

And then a voice from behind her. “Do you make a habit of wandering alone at night, Miss Price?”

Felicity pulled in a sharp breath, surprised, as she turned. Though she had not heard his approach, Edward stood at the edge of the roses, his face shining in the moonlight. His hands were clasped behind his back, his posture deceptively casual. He was dressed as though he had attempted sleep and failed. He wore no coat, only a waistcoat over his crisp linen shirt messily tucked into breeches, his hair slightly tousled.

The moonlight carved sharp shadows along his features, his expression unreadable. His bearing, as always, firm and immovable. Most unfortunately, she found him as handsome as ever in that moment.

“I could ask the same of you, Colonel,” she said, tilting her chin up.

Edward’s gaze flickered toward the rosebushes she had been admiring.

“They are not late yet, you know,” he murmured.

Felicity blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

He nodded toward the blooms. “The roses. They come along in their own time. It is merely April. By mid-May, they will be fully alive.”

She raised her brow. “I knew you spent a lot of time here, but I did not take you for a man who took such notice of growing patterns.”

Edward laughed, a quiet sound of amusement, shifting his stance. “I notice a great deal. I caused these rose bushes to be planted here. My elder brother, when he inherited the family estate, told me I could request pieces of our home to bring to my own. I asked for some of the rose bushes. My mother, even in her grief at the loss of my father, helped me select the best of them to take cuttings from. I spend time with them, watch them grow. To be certain they are cared for and do not grow homesick.”

She suspected he had spent many solitary evenings among the thorns. Felicity turned back to the bushes, her voice quieter now. “Early or late, they will bloom.”

“A thing utterly beyond my control,” he said, a touch of humor in his voice. “Are you impressed I love them still, when they do not bend to my orders?”

She touched the tight bud again, letting her finger skim along the stem to a thorn. “Perhaps I spoke too hastily about such things.”

“You spoke wisely of them. Thank you for it. I have become more aware of that trait in myself.” His voice had lowered and grown softer. A silence stretched between them, filled only by the whisper of the wind through the hedges. “You cannot sleep.”

It was not a question, and so did not require an answer. Yet Felicity sighed and turned to look at him. “No.” She hesitated, then—perhaps because the night felt safe, or perhaps because she was too tired to guard her words—she admitted, “My mind refuses to quiet itself.”

Edward studied her for a moment, before looking up at the night sky. “What is troubling you?”

She let out a short laugh. “Where shall I begin?”

He met her gaze and raised his eyebrows, but he said nothing. He simply waited.

What was there to do but speak? “I have spent my whole life in someone else’s home,” she said slowly. “My father’s, then my brother’s. Now I live in yours.” Felicity traced her fingers along the back of the garden bench, grounding herself. “I thought I was content,” she admitted softly. “I thought it did not matter.” She looked up, meeting his gaze. “But Daphne has asked me recently a question I thought I knew the answer to. She asked what I would do when she marries.”

Edward’s expression shifted, but the shadows and moonlight made it difficult to read when he stood so many feet away. “And what did you tell her, Captain?”

Felicity swallowed. “The same thing I have always told myself. That I will go away. Someplace quiet. Someplace small. I will live on gossip and tea, take long walks on a pebbled beach. Do nothing of consequence.”

The Colonel’s brow furrowed, and for a moment, he looked as though he wanted to say something. But he did not. Instead, he waited.

“I suppose it hardly matters,” she said, forcing a lighter tone. “I am far too stubborn for courtship. Too set in my ways for marriage.”

That was when Edward took a slow step toward her.

Felicity chuckled softly, ignoring his closer presence. “I am too old to be wanted, besides.”

Edward’s voice was low and even. “Three and thirty is hardly old, Miss Price.”

She shook her head as though that could alter her very age. “You are very kind.”

“I am not,” he said as though the matter were quite simple. “I am truthful.”

Felicity glanced away, watching the ground as his shadow grew nearer. “You do not know me as well as you think. There are so many reasons I will never marry.”

“Tell me. As many as you can list.”

Her gaze went to his again, and a disbelieving laugh left her lips. “Edward. Really?” He folded his arms and waited. “You are alarmingly patient this evening.”

“I am told it is a virtue.”

“I do not think it applies in situations like this, where you needle a woman to give you consequential answers about her life.”

“I am not needling. I have asked, quite politely, for you to list these reasons you speak of. Come along, Felicity. Tell me all the reasons you will never marry.” He stood so close now. Close enough for her to see the gleam in his eye.

Was it a challenge?

“Very well.” Felicity began listing her faults, one by one, ticking them off on her fingers. “I am sharp-tongued?—”

“You are intelligent,” Edward countered, startling her with the interruption. “I find it preferable to insipid conversation.”

She rolled her eyes. “I argue too much.”

“You argue when it matters.”

Felicity narrowed her eyes at him. He was doing this on purpose. “I do not bend easily.”

“You shouldn’t have to. And neither do I.”

“I am quite set on getting my way.”

“When you are in the right, I fail to see the problem with that.” He leaned a little closer. “Go on. I can do this all night.”

Felicity’s breath caught, her heart thudding painfully against her ribs as she stared up at him. His gaze was unwavering, steady, and open enough that she read something startling within them.

Edward cared for her.

And in that moment, she realized something. She had spent so long deciding what was wrong with her. Edward was the first person in a long time to tell her what was right.

The night air stretched between them, charged and waiting. A breeze swept through the garden, and she shivered slightly.

Edward moved apparently without thinking. Shrugging off his coat, he stepped forward and draped it over her shoulders.

“Oh, not again. Edward….” Felicity looked up at him, stunned. Not by the action itself—but by the warmth of it. By the care in his gesture. By the way his fingers lingered, just for a moment, against the fabric.

She swallowed, her throat tight. “I was so ungrateful last time you gave me use of your coat. I left it on the ground.”

“It came to no harm.” The man kept his hands on her shoulders, moving them slightly up and down, as though to warm her through his touch. “Even if it had, I would give you another and another. All my coats are at your disposal, since you appear unable to think ahead well enough to wear your own.”

She laughed softly. “You see? Another thing that marks me ill-prepared for marriage. I cannot be bothered to look after myself.”

“Because you are too busy looking after everyone else,” Edward said gently, looking down into her eyes. Though the moon cast everything in a silvery-blue light, she had no trouble admiring the depth in his green-brown eyes. “Let someone else look after you for a change, Felicity. Let me look after you.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Edward exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “You have spent so long deciding what is wrong with you.” He bent closer. “Have you never considered all that is perfect and lovely?”

Felicity’s breath shuddered. Her fingers curled around the edges of his coat, holding it tighter around her. She could not speak; for the first time, she had no argument.

Edward’s eyes searched hers—but then, with a slow inhale, he straightened. “The garden is lovely at night,” he said at last.

She nodded, collecting herself. “Yes,” she murmured. “It is.”

A long moment of silence stretched between them.

Then, wordlessly, he took her hand and most inexplicably laced his fingers with hers. “But it is late. And you are cold.”

She could hardly swallow. Everything felt charged. If she said the wrong thing, if he did, she might well combust on the spot. And what was the right thing, with her hand in his?

“I should get you inside,” he said. “And send you back to bed.” Her cheeks flushed as his fingers tightened around hers. “Come, Felicity. All the troubles of the world will be there when you wake tomorrow. Perhaps you will confide a few more in me, that I might help you carry them.”

He gave her hand a gentle tug, and she stepped forward, walking together back toward the house. As they reached the doors, Edward gave her hand another squeeze. “I think… I think I will take one more turn around the garden. Perhaps to clear my own head.” Then he bowed and at the same moment raised her hand to his lips. His lips brushed her knuckles as he said, “Goodnight, Miss Felicity Price. And sweet dreams to you.”

Neither of them said another word as she withdrew, the skin of her hand tingly from where his lips had touched her.

Felicity tucked that hand beneath her cheek when she at last laid down, her cheeks warm, his coat carefully hung on the back of the chair in her room.