Page 24 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #1)

FIVE YEARS LATER…

T he gardens were in full bloom. Thank heavens for that.

Felicity had spent the entire morning weaving between the garden beds, tables, and chairs, overseeing the final preparations for the party. The heavy scents of flowers and warm earth had nearly given her a headache, but a light summer breeze had helped her remain clearheaded enough to see to everything.

The morning sky had threatened rain, but now everything above was a bright, unbroken blue. She looked up again, grateful for the good weather. She had worked several years to come to this moment. Rain would not have caused a tragedy, but she still liked to be prepared. Parties could be held inside as well as out, after all.

All around her, servants were setting out tables and arranging refreshments, while inside, the household bustled with preparations for the afternoon’s guests.

Mrs. Lane came hurrying up to her, a list in hand. “All is in order with the refreshments, Mrs. Halstead, and we also have the stable-yard ready to receive the guests from Town.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Lane. I could not ask for a better second in command.” Felicity had thought the woman as efficient as a brigadier general, but had only dared say such a thing once. Mrs. Lane had immediately objected to being likened to a military man. “They are terribly inept at running households,” she had said, most indignant.

Today, Felicity needed everyone to be happy—or wanted that for them, anyway. It was Daphne’s betrothal celebration, and things were turning out beautifully.

Felicity smiled to herself, adjusting the placement of a tablecloth. There had been a time when she had fretted over Daphne’s future, worried whether she would find a match worthy of her intelligence, kindness, and strength.

She needn’t have worried. Daphne had chosen well.

Felicity turned her head, sweeping her gaze across the gardens where guests would soon gather, before moving toward the long table beneath a trellis. As she reached for the silverware, a sharp cry split the air.

“Mama!”

Felicity’s heart lurched as she hurried toward the sound, skirts swishing. A small figure stood near the edge of the rose bushes, his little face scrunched in distress. Three-year-old Anthony Halstead, his dark curls tousled from mischief, clutched one tiny thumb in his other hand, tears welling in his deep brown eyes.

Felicity sighed, stepping quickly around the table. “Oh, my darling, what happened?”

Little Anthony sniffled, bottom lip sticking out. “I pickeded a flower.”

Felicity knelt beside him, gently prying his fingers open. A single red mark bloomed on his thumb. It was nothing serious, but quite enough to bring a small tragedy into his young world.

Oh, that the days when soothing hurts so easily could remain forever. She reached into her bodice, retrieving a soft handkerchief, and dabbed carefully at his skin. “You mustn’t grab the roses, my love. They are beautiful, but they bite.”

Anthony’s lip trembled. “It hurts.”

“Yes, but it will stop soon. Here.” Felicity kissed his tiny thumb, then smoothed back his unruly curls.

The tears stopped instantly as her son beamed up at her. Then he bent down and, immediately doing what he had just been warned not to do, picked up the flower which had caused the mischief, careful this time of the thorn. “For you, Mama.”

“Oh, darling. It is lovely. Thank you.”

A deep, exasperated voice interrupted Felicity’s raptures. “I only turned away for a moment, Felicity. But I cannot find—” Edward appeared at the garden entrance, somewhat harried, his coat missing and his cravat slightly askew. His words stopped and he huffed upon seeing the little boy holding his mother’s hand. “Our son escaped again.”

Felicity arched a brow at him. “Escaped, or outmaneuvered his father?”

Edward bent down and plucked Anthony up with ease, settling him against his side. “Are you terrorizing your mother again, pup?”

Anthony grinned, clinging to his father’s lapel. “I picked-ed a flower.”

Edward kissed the top of his son’s curls, eyeing the rose Felicity held. “Ah. And how did that adventure end?”

Anthony frowned dramatically. “It bit me.”

Felicity laughed and held her hand up for Edward to take, relying on his steady strength to get to her feet again. It was indeed an awkward thing of late, she reflected as she smoothed a hand over her rounded stomach.

“You must sit down, Aunt Felicity.” She turned to see Daphne coming quickly down the garden path with a cushion in hand and a frown across her brow. “This is utterly ridiculous. You need to let everyone else do the work for once.”

Felicity sighed, reluctantly accepting the inevitable. “I am not an invalid.”

“You are eight months along,” Edward countered, guiding her toward a shaded bench. “Humor our niece.”

“Uncle Edward, you are as concerned as I am about her overworking herself.” Daphne followed them, settling a hand on a hip as she flapped the cushion in her aunt’s direction. “Why am I the only one with any sense today?”

Felicity settled onto the cushion, muttering about overbearing family under her breath, but Edward simply smirked.

Anthony climbed up beside her, snuggling into her side with the complete trust of a child who knew he was adored. But as Felicity put her arm around him, her son wriggled upright, pointing excitedly.

“James is here!”

And, indeed, the familiar figure of James Thornton was entering the garden. James was taller now, broader, his dark hair catching the sunlight as he strode forward. His eyes—Edward’s eyes—were bright with happiness as he approached.

“Apologies for the delay,” James said somewhat sheepishly, his smile warm as he turned toward Daphne. Without hesitation, he bent and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Daphne blushed, but did not shy away, instead jutting out her chin to present her cheek. “You are lucky you are so agreeable, or I would be quite put out with you. You may kiss me again.”

Felicity’s whole body relaxed as she watched the exchange, the reminder of her niece’s heart kept safely by a trustworthy gentleman making some of her anxieties fade.

James turned to Edward, embracing him without hesitation. “Father.”

The truth had not shocked the young man a few years previous, when Edward had finally told him of his parentage, and James, with infinite kindness, had not hesitated to forgive his absence and embrace Edward whole-heartedly. It helped, of course, that the father who raised him had been present to offer his guidance and love over the last few years, too.

Edward’s throat bobbed as he returned the embrace, his grip firm, steady.

James pulled back, turning to his stepmother next as his grin turned boyish. “And Mama Felicity.”

Felicity had no chance to respond before James embraced her too, careful of her growing belly. “You are late, James,” she scolded lightly.

James grinned as he stepped away from her. “You know how London is. I was waylaid by an old friend of the family.”

“Stop your wriggling, pup, you will wrinkle your mother’s gown.” Edward picked up Anthony again. “And which old friend would that be?”

“Lord Blackstone,” James said brightly. “He sends his regards, by the way. Though he will be here within the hour to give them in person. He has promised us a betrothal gift, Daffy.”

Edward chuckled. “If it has fur or feathers, that means he is especially fond of you.”

Anthony, hanging onto Edward with one arm around his neck, held out his bandaged thumb, waving it in front of himself. “I pickeded a flower,” he informed James seriously.

James took hold of Anthony’s thumb, examining the grave injury with a solemn nod. “Picked a fight with one, more like. Did you win, brother?”

Anthony sighed, ever the dramatist. “No.”

James patted his shoulder. “We all must learn about thorns, eventually.”

Daphne asked after James’s sisters and father, the vicar, and he promised they were getting dressed in the house at that very moment. The two of them were soon discussing the other party guests, and Daphne led him toward the garden entry while reminding him of their plans. His sisters appeared, and soon laughter rippled through the garden, warm and full of love.

Felicity, watching them all, felt a contentment so deep it stole her breath. She had once thought herself destined to be alone, a woman at the edges of Society, moving through life as an observer. Unimportant.

Now, she was at the very heart of a family.

She glanced at Edward who was already watching her. He put Anthony down and pointed him toward James and Felicity, then settled on the bench beside her before lifting her hand, brushing a kiss over her fingers. She smiled and moved his hand to where their second child together grew, at precisely the right moment for Edward to feel the baby turn, adjusting—trying to get comfortable, most likely, in an ever-tightening home.

“Are you well, my love?” Edward asked softly.

“Yes. I am well.” Felicity laid her head on his shoulder and knew, without a doubt, that this was everything she had ever wanted. Everything she never dared to dream of.

And Felicity would spend the rest of her life quite happily, with the people she loved around her.

* * *

If you enjoyed Edward and Felicity’s story, make certain you pick up the next book in the Bachelors of Blackstone’s series, A Trial of His Affections , by author Mindy Burbidge Strunk.

What’s it about? Well, Miles Yardley has spent years admiring the girl next door—only to find himself in an impossible predicament. Grace Jenkins knows she can’t marry for love—but that doesn’t mean she can afford to fail to wed at all!

Each book in this series will have a gentleman banned from the other clubs of London, sometimes for good reason, sometimes for seemingly no reason, but all of them now have something to prove.