Page 3 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #1)

Chapter Three

T he drawing room nearest the dining room hadn’t ever received much of Edward’s attention, as he rarely spent any time within it. Bachelors rarely entertained, for one thing, and he took most of his meals wherever was most convenient to him, for another. His desk, his room, the library, and even the garden saw him enjoying his dinners more than the dining table ever did. Thankfully, the staff still kept the rooms neat as a pin. The nearly bare mantel had no dust upon it. The large velvet curtains covering the windows did not smell of damp.

The stiff furniture looked practically new, though he’d purchased it used when he’d come to the house. All in all, there was nothing about the room to make a guest uncomfortable, nothing that would make anyone question his ability to maintain a household—yet the instant the ladies entered the room, he saw the disapproving sweep of Miss Price’s gaze take everything in before they settled on him.

The single clock on the mantel ticked loudly in the quiet.

The blunder with Miss Daphne’s age rolled about in Edward’s mind like an unruly hound, refusing to come to heel and let him put the matter aside. He looked to her, the one who should most concern him, to find the young woman pale and her eyes lowered, the gray circles beneath them standing out all the more thanks to the matching color of her gown. Her shoulders were rounded, making her look quite small and helpless beside her much-more composed aunt.

She was not as young as he expected, but she was a child who had lost a father. The poor mite was hurting.

Edward cleared his throat and bowed, then held his hands out in a friendly gesture to gesture at the drawing room. “Ladies, good evening to you both. Please, do make yourselves comfortable. Dinner ought to be announced in a few moments.”

“Thank you,” Daphne murmured with a small dip of her head.

Miss Price settled on the settee, and Daphne beside her. That left him the chair across from them, which he settled into with less than his usual grace. He had always been rather large, too tall and too broad, but as he looked across at the woman before him he felt positively ogrish.

Well, he had to make a start. “Perhaps we might use this time to come to know each other better,” he ventured.

“A thoughtful suggestion,” Miss Price said, tone neutral, her gaze on the hearth instead of him.

He felt well and truly dismissed. In his own home. Edward curled his fingers around the armrest of the chair. “I trust your accommodations are satisfactory?” A host ought to ask such a thing, surely.

Miss Price glanced at her niece, then examined him when the younger woman made no answer. “My room is tolerable.” She tilted her chin up somewhat. “Daphne’s, however, has some rather unexpected furnishings which are not quite appropriate for one of her age and station.”

The girl did not so much as twitch, as though she had not even heard her aunt speak, or did not care.

He settled his gaze on Miss Price, his jaw tightening as he prepared to admit the error he made. “I was given the impression that Miss Daphne was much younger.” The girl shifted as he said her name, and he caught a slight wince. What a fool he was, attempting to defend himself. “I apologize, Miss Daphne. I will have the things you do not like removed at once, and we will replace them with anything you wish. I know you have trunks from home, too. You must feel free to decorate the room—your room, to your own tastes.”

Daphne met his gaze for the first time since entering the room, a brief flicker of curiosity in her eyes, before the girl nodded. “Thank you, Colonel Halstead.”

That was something. The aunt hadn’t expressed gratitude for much since her arrival.

Edward gave Daphne an encouraging smile. “Do you enjoy music?”

Her eyebrows raised. “I do. Very much. Have you a music room?”

Why had he asked that question? Now he had to admit, “No. No, I do not have a music room. But—” he added quickly, when the young woman glanced toward her aunt, “—I will send for anything you like, first thing in the morning. Being so near London has its advantages. We can obtain nearly anything in no more than a week’s time. Would you like a pianoforte? A harp? A violin?”

“Ladies do not play the violin before others,” the aunt said, her voice soft velvet covering steel. “But the other things…” She looked at her niece. “Yes?”

Daphne nodded slowly. “If…if it is not too much trouble. I did bring my favorite musical arrangements.”

“It is not too much trouble, not in the least. I will arrange for it tomorrow,” he said quickly, a sense of relief making him exhale with a smile.

That relief was short lived.

The aunt’s gaze had narrowed. “And what else will you be arranging for her, sir?”

Why did she sound so suspicious of him? Hadn’t he just offered her niece a kindness—an expensive kindness, to boot? It made him hesitate a moment. “I will see to whatever is necessary.”

“Really?” Miss Price lifted her chin. “Necessary for whom? You, or Daphne?”

He blinked, opened his mouth to answer—when the door opened.

The butler came inside. “Dinner is served, Colonel Halstead.”

Edward rose. He ought to take Miss Price’s arm to guide her in, but he wondered if she would allow for such a thing. He approached as cautiously as he would a cobra, then held out his elbow for her to take. She looked at his arm, a small wrinkle appearing at the bridge of her nose, before she gingerly took it. He led her through the door, across the corridor, and into the dining room. Daphne followed behind them, silent, pale, and graceful as a ghost.

Things were not going as well as he hoped.

After they were settled around the dining table, which was meant to hold at least a dozen people, Edward found himself devoid of anything to say or ask. There he sat, at the head of the table, and there they were, on either side, in the middle. Halfway down from him. Across from each other. Quietly eating.

The silver gleamed in the candlelight. The sounds of forks and knives softly scraping the plates barely broke the silence.

Finally, Edward cleared his throat, then immediately took a drink of his wine when Miss Price’s gaze snapped to his, brow furrowed with disapproval. Putting his glass down again, he addressed her directly. “Miss Price, have you spent much time in London?”

Her expression remained unreadable. “A fair amount.”

With a smile, he tried to lighten the moment. “Then perhaps you will find Briarwood rather too quiet by comparison.”

She reached for her own wine glass. “It is quiet. And rather…sparse.”

Rather what? He tilted his head to the side. “Sparse? In what way?” His house wasn’t enormous, but it was a respectable size for a gentleman of his means. It suited him, quiet as it was. What complaint could be levelled at it?

“It feels rather empty. Cavernous.” The aunt shuddered before taking a small sip of her wine. “It concerns me, given that a house is often a reflection of its master. Are you a miser, I wonder, or merely frugal? I wonder if you will think to provide the things that Daphne needs to be comfortable, let alone happy. How will she prepare for her formal entrance into Society in such an unwelcoming place?”

His jaw fell open as the woman spoke, but he did not realize it until he had to snap it closed again to speak his own answer. “You speak quite critically and freely of another person’s home, Miss Price.”

“You asked what I thought,” she said, her tone as cool as it had been from the first, utterly unruffled by his poorly concealed anger. “And as these things concern the future happiness of one who is dearer to me than my own life, I will not feign polite indifference.” Her chin came up as she sat her glass down.

Edward stared at her in some shock. No one had spoken to him that way in…well. He could not remember when. A flash of curiosity sparked through him, but he pushed it away to focus instead on her words. “You seem determined to find fault with my household, Miss Price. I assure you, though you find it ‘sparse’ in trappings, such a thing does not mark me as an inadequate guardian. I am capable of and committed to providing for my ward.” He inclined his head to Daphne, whose eyes had widened somewhat as she glanced between the two of them.

“Capable, perhaps. But aware?” the aunt asked, challenge in her tone. “Understanding? That remains to be seen.”

He exhaled, slowly, a suspicion in his thoughts, so he gave it voice. Why not? Miss Price did not seem willing to keep anything back. He ought act the same. “You believe yourself better suited to the task, do you not?”

“I believe my experience in the realm of what young ladies require far outstrips your own, and my being intimately acquainted with my niece speaks for itself.” The barest curve of her lips made him stare. Had she almost smiled? At him? Surely not. Unless she was smiling at the thought of his demise.

Before he could respond, Daphne’s soft voice spoke. “Please, Aunt. Colonel Halstead. We…we can discuss this another time, surely?”

The child must not be as used to speaking her mind as her aunt was—nor hearing others do the same. Edward cleared his throat. “Of course, Miss Daphne. You are quite right. We are all overwhelmed from the events of the previous days, most likely. This is hardly a time for debate or making decisions.”

Miss Price nodded to her niece. “That time will come later, I imagine.”

She wasn’t finished with him, then.

Edward narrowed his eyes. The time would come the moment he could speak to the woman alone. He had hoped to convince her to stay long enough to make Daphne comfortable. Now, he wondered if that was still a good idea. The woman was antagonistic, to say the least.

Daphne resumed picking at her food, gaze downcast and quiet. Every time he glanced at her aunt, the woman appeared to be watching him from the corner of her eye. His frustration mounted.

Why did it feel like he had a battle ahead of him? He lifted his glass and took another slow sip of wine. Miss Felicity Price did not trust him. Daphne, his ward, was grief-stricken and understandably listless. And he was somehow meant to broker peace with the elder and make the younger feel at home.

A curl of excitement slowly unraveled in his chest.

He did love a good challenge.

* * *

The evening meal ended in strained silence, and Felicity couldn’t help but feel she had won a victory, however small. When the servants took the last of the plates away and Colonel Halstead stood, she did as well.

“Come, Daphne. It has been a long day. You ought to retire early.” She walked around the table and held a hand out to her niece.

Daphne took the hand gratefully and curtsied to her guardian. “Thank you, Colonel Halstead. The meal was delicious.”

“You are most welcome, Miss Daphne.” He bowed, before his gaze moved sharply to Felicity’s. “Miss Price, if you have a moment, I should like a word before you retire for the evening.”

She felt Daphne’s hand tense in her own. She expected this, of course, after their verbal sparring over the meal. But so soon? She had long learned that her place in a household was safest when she remained indispensable. A woman who made herself useful rarely found herself shown the door. Perhaps pleasantness should have been her first method of attack, not possessiveness.

“Of course, Colonel Halstead. But first, I will see my niece to her room.” She tilted her chin up again, daring him to deny her such a simple thing.

“I will be in the drawing room,” he answered. Then bowed to them both again, dismissing them with all politeness.

Felicity led Daphne down the corridor, arm in arm, her mind whirling, trying to organize her list of reasons why he was an unfit guardian for her niece. All the reasons he needed Felicity to remain, to oversee Daphne’s education and entrance into Society. She was so lost in thought, she did not realize that Daphne had slowed their walk to a stop until the young woman spoke.

“Aunt Felicity? Please, do not push the Colonel too hard.”

Felicity blinked and looked into her niece’s eyes. They were the same height now. When had that happened? “Push him?” She shook her head. “In what way could I push that man?”

Daphne glanced down briefly, swallowed, then met Felicity’s eyes with an earnest expression. “I know he does not understand—I know he should. But if he sends you away, I will be alone here.” She swallowed. “I do not want to be alone. I do not want to lose you so soon, not after losing Papa.”

Felicity’s heart squeezed in sympathy, her own grief tightening in her chest. “Oh, my darling.” She wrapped her arms around her niece. “I know, Daffodil. I do. I am not going anywhere. You needn’t worry. I promise.”

Though Daphne nodded, she did not appear reassured. “Thank you. Only…only be careful what you say to him.”

“I am not going to insult him further.” Though Felicity was not entirely sure she could keep her word on that matter. “I am not trying to prove him incapable. I am trying to ensure he will understand the responsibility and honor of caring for you.”

“Yes, Aunt Felicity.” Daphne kissed her cheek. “I hope everything goes well.” She opened her bedroom door and slipped inside, giving her aunt one last, tremulous smile before closing the door.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Felicity turned to retrace her steps to the drawing room. “I am not going anywhere,” she repeated to herself in the quiet corridor. She had to be strategic, for Daphne’s sake. This battle would not be won through sheer force of will. “I must not be ruled by frustration.” She paused before the drawing room door and finding it already open, the fire crackling again, the candles still lit. Edward Halstead stood with his back to the door, elbow on the mantel, staring deep into the embers.

He had been in the military—served his king and country. Anthony’s commanding officer. If her brother had admired him, Colonel Halstead was not a bumbling fool, but likely an intelligent man who had simply never been around women. She had to find a way to position herself as indispensable to him rather than intrusive.

Once again, Felicity let her eyes sweep across the room. It was stark, masculine, practical. No fripperies. Nothing to delight the eye. But it wasn’t dirty, the furniture was sturdy and well made—like the man himself. She glanced at his broad back, his tall form slightly hunched, was still imposing. Truly, she ought to be intimidated at the mere size of him.

But she could not afford to be. Felicity tried to calm her rapidly fluttering heart. He was hardly to blame or to credit for his size, though he had lived a different life from hers. One of battlefields, not drawing rooms.

Felicity cleared her head of thoughts and entered the room with a purposeful stride, the soft heels of her slippers making only the slightest click on the wood floor. “Colonel Halstead. You wished to speak with me?”

He turned at the sound of her voice, his green-brown eyes meeting her gaze without hesitation. “I did.” He paused, then nodded to her. “This may take a few moments. Please, sit.”

For a moment, she considered where to settle. Not the settee again—that might make the man think he could sit beside her, and she would look small, unimposing in a seat made for two. So, she chose the chair where he had sat before. She went to it directly, sat and smoothed the skirts of her gown, then looked up at him. Eyebrows raised. Expectant.

One corner of his mouth ticked upward, as though she had amused him, but he sat on the settee across the rug from her. He looked calm rather than put out, though he clearly did not regard her with complete confidence. Why would he? He draped one arm along the arm of the settee and reset his other hand on his thigh, tapping his fingers for a moment.

Then he exhaled, the sound heavy. “You do not approve of my guardianship.”

She had to give him credit for his directness. A statement, then, not a question. “I do not approve of your inexperience.”

A flicker of something crossed his eyes. Amusement? Frustration? Or perhaps some odd combination of both. “I have managed estates, commanded men, navigated war. And yet you believe I cannot manage one young lady?”

Her niece’s plea at the forefront of her mind, Felicity kept her tone even. “It is not about managing her, sir. It is about understanding Daphne—and you do not understand what it means to prepare a young woman for Society. The fact that she is grieving only complicates matters.”

He leaned back slightly, and the fingers on the arm of the settee tapped softly against the upholstery. “Then perhaps you will enlighten me.”

A skip to her pulse made Felicity stiffen, though with surprise rather than displeasure. Had he really invited her to educate him? How unlike a man. Men, in her limited experience, did not often ask for a woman’s opinions. They took what they needed, left when they were done. If this one thought to dismiss her after a polite hearing, he would find she had built her arguments to be not only persuasive—but permanent.

Felicity tilted her head to one side. “Do you truly wish to learn, or are you humoring me?”

The Colonel’s lips twitched, and she almost grew angry. How dare he laugh at her?

Yet the anger dissipated into caution as he nodded deeply. “I wish to learn, Miss Price. Whether you are capable of teaching me remains to be seen.”

The opportunity to outline all her reasons for remaining close to Daphne, as a companion if not a guardian, had arrived far sooner than she thought it would. It appeared he was not going to ignore her, nor dismiss her without warning. He was asking for her to present her argument, the same one she had prepared from the moment she learned Daphne would not come under her protection.

She had prepared for this. Now all she had to do was perform.

Tucking her emotions carefully behind a mask of calm, Felicity launched into her list of arguments. “Daphne’s education is sufficient for a young lady of her station, but there is much she has not learned, things a gentleman would not even consider. A governess has taught her literature, languages, art, and such things are important—but Daphne knows nothing of the nuances of Society. Only another woman can guide her on how to behave in London’s drawing rooms, ballrooms, and markets. It is not sufficient to be well-mannered. One must also be perceptive, discerning, wise in choosing one’s company.”

Colonel Halstead raised his eyebrows at her. “You have experience in these places, of course. I cannot argue that.” He tapped the arm of the chair again. “You speak, in part, of her maintaining a respectable reputation.”

“A reputation is all a lady has to rely upon most of the time, Colonel Halstead,” Felicity stated with a firmness he could not dare to argue with. “My niece may now be an heiress, but that brings with it more dangers than protections. A woman’s reputation is everything. Every part of her is considered when she enters Society, the clothes she wears, the music she plays, the theatricals she attends, and the company she keeps. To stay abreast of all of it is a demanding task. Not one for a mind divided between her and other matters, such as businesses and estates.”

The corner of his lips tipped up again. “You propose delegation?”

An argument, a metaphor he might understand entered her mind, and Felicity spoke it at once. “There is a reason one man alone cannot command an entire army, sir, so he relies upon officers to see to matters he cannot attend to himself.”

The Colonel leaned back somewhat. “Point taken. What else ought I to know about Daphne’s entrance into Society?”

“Oh.” Felicity folded her hands in her lap, gripping her own fingers. He was…actually listening to her. She could not afford to stumble now. “Goodness, where to start. There is more to it than simply attending a few balls and simpering at dinners. It is a strategic endeavor, one that requires careful management.” Calmly, or at least far more calmly than she had thought possible, she explained, “A young lady’s first Season is crucial. Besides keeping her reputation spotless, her suitors must be well vetted. Her name must be introduced in the right circles. Daphne must learn how to reject unwanted advances without causing offense, to recall the names of those she should associate with and those she must avoid—all without causing gossip. She must recognize the difference between a charming rake and a steady, respectable man?—”

“And you know the difference between two such characters?” Colonel Halstead interrupted.

She could not tell if he was amused or mocking her, only that his smile was more on display than before. Felicity swallowed back her irritation. “Despite the fact that I am an unmarried spinster I can, in fact, judge character with some success. I also know who to ask when I cannot find the answers on my own.” It pricked her pride to mention her unwed status. Yet what else could he have alluded to, with a question such as that?

His expression swiftly sobered. “I did not mean any insult, Miss Price. Forgive me if I have caused harm.”

She waved aside his polite apology. “My feelings are unimportant, it is Daphne I am concerned about. You would not send a soldier into battle without training. Would you send your new ward into Society unarmed?”

He slowly shook his head. “I would much prefer not to.”

Good. She had gained some ground, Felicity could feel it. “A young lady with too much time unstructured and unsupervised is open to scandal and gossip. Boredom is a dangerous thing for a young person. Daphne must be encouraged to fill her days with worthy pursuits. Music, art, charitable endeavors, friendships with those of her rank and breeding, not idleness nor foolish friendships.”

The Colonel folded his arms across his chest, appearing somewhat skeptical. “You would schedule her into good behavior?”

“Not as such,” Felicity accepted with a shrug. “But I would look after her time, ensure she does not spend it on entertainments of little to no value. If left to her own devices, Daphne—any young woman might gravitate toward anyone who provides her companionship or amusement, regardless of their character.” She leaned forward, hands spread before her. “Her friends will shape her reputation as much as her own conduct. Do you know which ladies of Society she should avoid? Or who will bring her invitations to the right houses?”

Slowly, he shook his head, his gaze never leaving hers. No, of course he did not.

“And that is not a failing on your part, sir,” Felicity said, gaining confidence. She had to win him over, and if that meant giving him excuses to avoid taking a more active role in Daphne’s life, she would do that. “Men do not have to concern themselves with the things women must think of daily.” She moved to the edge of her chair. “Have you ever had to navigate a ballroom where smiling at the wrong person could invite not merely gossip, but a whisper of scandal?”

“No. I have never had to consider such a thing.” The Colonel clasped his hands before him and leaned toward her. “I have not concerned myself overmuch with what Society thinks of me. I did my duty to my country, I conduct myself with as much integrity and honor as I know how. That has been enough.” Here a measure of seriousness came into his tone, as though he thought of a specific thing that weighed on him.

“It may have been enough for a gentleman, but for a lady…” Felicity took a deep breath. “Even if you do not care for Society’s opinion, Colonel Halstead, I assure you that Society cares about you. If Daphne is not properly introduced into Society, it will reflect poorly on you as her guardian. If she stumbles into her Season ill-prepared, she will suffer—perhaps for the rest of her life. But it will not truly be her failing. It will be yours.”

He sat back abruptly, arms moving up again, now crossed against his broad chest. Her brow contracted.

Had she offended him or worried him?

Felicity rushed forward, hoping she had not said the wrong thing. “Even with all of this, above it all, Daphne has lost her father—a child who hardly knew her mother. She needs someone familiar in her life. Someone who knows her, loves her, who can ease this transition for her. You, Colonel Halstead, are a gentleman—but you are also a stranger. If she feels vulnerable or uncertain, do you think she would come to you? If she is unsure as to a course of action, would she seek your counsel…or attempt it alone? Would you truly send her out into this world of judgment with only yourself for guidance?”

Colonel Halstead stared at her for a long, uncomfortable moment. The silence stretched on for an eternity, and the blasted clock on the mantel was the only sound Felicity heard other than the pulse in her own ears.

Why did he not speak? Was he not utterly convinced?

Finally, she dared to prod him one last time. “If you wish for Daphne to thrive, allow me to ensure her success. Let me help you in this responsibility.” There. She gave him the choice, or at least the illusion of it. If he rejected her offer after all she had presented, even obtaining his agreement in some places, it would make no sense.

“And what,” Colonel Halstead said, his words low and unhurried, “if I do not believe I require your assistance?”

Her heart froze. No . After all she had presented, how could he not understand how important she was to her niece’s future? She swallowed her first indignant answer, the temptation to cut with words forced down. She had to think of Daphne. She had to do whatever she could to stay near Daphne.

“Perhaps this is a thing to consider, rather than decide this evening. Any hasty decision can hardly be the correct one.” She forced a smile but felt it wilt immediately under his stare. “Daphne is my last remaining relative, Colonel Halstead. I helped to raise her. She…she is my only family, my darling niece. I love her, I want her to have happiness and success. Please—if you consider nothing else, think on that. You must understand, I want what is best for her.”

Colonel Halstead stood, hands dropping to tuck behind his back. “You make many assumptions about what I do and do not understand…but I suppose we shall see. Thank you for sharing your concerns with me, Miss Price. This has been educational. I look forward to discussing the matter with you again. Perhaps tomorrow.”

It was a dismissal.

Felicity rose slowly to her feet, confusion clouding her thoughts. She had thought he would understand. All her feelings led her to believe he would agree with her; the way he had listened, the way he had respected her arguments, made her think she had succeeded.

Had she miscalculated?

It had happened before. She had believed herself wanted—needed—and had still been set aside. It was a lesson she thought she’d learned well enough not to repeat, but here she was, heart trembling with the old fear that no effort would ever be quite enough to make her essential.

Felicity dropped into a shallow curtsy. “Good evening, Colonel Halstead.”

“Good evening, Miss Price.” He turned his back to her, staring once more into the embers in the hearth.

Felicity withdrew, doubt creeping into her heart and making her far colder than the winter wind ever had.

If she failed Daphne, she would never forgive herself.