Page 4 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #1)

Chapter Four

E state matters and a pile of correspondence took up the better part of Edward’s morning, remaining in his study through the afternoon and taking tea at his desk as he read a report from his steward. Then he went over his financial accounts, checking all was in order. He even wrote a brief note to his man of business regarding an investment opportunity with a contact in Spain.

In his study the world was orderly, structured, and efficient. The man, however, was struggling to maintain his usual focus. His mind remained preoccupied with his new ward and her earnest, concerned aunt.

He had sent Mrs. Lane to the ladies earlier in the day, hoping the delegation—he almost laughed—would take the thoughts of them from his mind. Despite the housekeeper’s capabilities, he couldn’t help feeling he ought to have gone himself. The tactical decision kept him from another verbal sparring match with the aunt, at least. He wasn’t ready to let her know his decision regarding the length of her stay in his home.

That Mrs. Lane had not yet returned with a list of Miss Felicity Price’s demands concerned him. Either they had been so minimal that the housekeeper did not require funds, or they were still producing a list after hours of conversation.

Neither of those outcomes seemed ideal.

Edward stood from the desk and stretched, looking at the clock on the mantel, before opening a drawer and taking out his favorite pipe, crossing the room to the window that looked out over the sleeping rose garden. Once the pipe was lit, he took the stem between his lips and puffed at it for a moment.

He’d taken up smoking a pipe in the military. It was one way to get warm on cold nights, and it distracted from the feeling of an empty belly when rations were low. It wasn’t the most ideal habit, and he rarely indulged it anymore but in moments of duress. Having two women beneath his roof, women he would have to take some measure of responsibility for, women who did not appear to wish for his help, guidance, or even presence, certainly qualified as distressing.

“What does a bachelor know of such things?” he muttered, watching a bird descend to land on the slowly sprouting rose bushes, bobbing up and down on a thorny branch. “Especially a near recluse.”

Well, he wasn’t precisely a recluse. The people in the little village nearby knew him, and most seemed to like him. But he rarely went into London, and had avoided Society for years. While he attended the occasional dinner party, it was only those held by old friends from the military or business acquaintances made after his return from the war. All his correspondence was with the same sort of people.

Thinking back, Edward tried to remember the last time he had danced in a ballroom. Goodness, it had to have been a decade past. And paying court to a woman? At least as long. He hadn’t been part of London’s social whirl in any meaningful way in years.

“This is going to be a problem.” He tapped his reflection in the window with the stem of his pipe. “You, old fellow, are a hermit. How did I come to this?”

If Daphne were to make a proper entrance into Society, she needed introductions. Invitations. Sponsors. Connections. Edward had no sisters, no female cousins in London to help smooth the way. He’d thought there was a decade or more ahead of him before facing such a challenge.

Felicity Price was right about what her niece needed—and she was right when she said Edward could not handle such matters on his own. Admitting that he needed her was the right thing to do, and yet he felt a strange reluctance to give in to her demands completely. He had his limitations, but Miss Price undeniably had her own. She wasn’t married, she had no other family, she had admitted to as much. A maiden aunt with no connections of under thirty years of age—she had to be less than thirty, if he guessed aright—had just as little business sponsoring a young lady’s entrance into Society.

Why was Miss Price unwed? Anthony had come from money, from memory. A dowry had likely existed for her at some point. Besides, she was rather pleasant to look at, when her expression wasn’t stiff as stone.

She had lovely blue eyes, her hair an indeterminate color between gold and umber. Her skin was clear, her figure healthy from what Edward could tell, and she moved with a confidence that intrigued him. All in all, a handsome woman such as she, with obvious intelligence, ought to have been married to a discerning gentleman years ago.

His reflection in the glass smirked, and Edward quickly wiped the expression from his face. He had no business thinking of Miss Price as an attractive woman. Not when his ward, her niece, needed his full attention.

A soft tap at the door pulled his thoughts away from that particular set of troubles, and he called out, “Enter.”

One of the footmen came in, bearing a silver tray with the afternoon post. “Letters for you, Colonel Halstead.”

Edward thanked the young man as he accepted the folded missives. He sorted through the three of them, knowing from whence they came by the handwriting. The first two held little interest for him, but the third?—

He broke the seal immediately and read the far too short letter with a deep frown.

Sir—

I have found at last a woman who worked at Miss Goodie’s School for Girls. She was a nurse there, two decades past, and kept records in personal journals of the women who came to them in distress. She has granted me access to her journals for a small fee. She did not know the name I gave her, but she believes most of the women were cared for under assumed names to protect their families and reputations. I will do my utmost to uncover more information from these journals.

I have included a list of my expenses to this point, for your information and an accurate accounting of the use of the payment and fees already allotted for my use. I remain optimistic that I will discover that which you bade me to find.

The signature of the man he had hired ended the note, with a post script detailing how Edward could contact him.

He slowly folded the letter, denying himself the hope that his paid investigator would finally succeed in his task. Two decades separated Edward from his quarry. Two decades of secrets and misdirection.

He closed his eyes and sighed. All those years ago, when his family had sent him away, none of them had known how the gossip would fester in his absence. Perhaps his parents had hoped the war would wipe his sins from the minds of the gentry. Instead, he had returned home at the end of Napoleon’s defeat to find old family friends no longer sought his company. Few of his former friends came to call. His parents had passed on. There had been nothing left of his old life.

Would Society ever forgive him? Did they still whisper about him? Did they still lower their voices when his name was mentioned?

He hadn’t been publicly shunned; not exactly. When he had attended places, however, those first few years, there had always been an edge of polite reserve in certain circles. He hadn’t tested the waters in years, of course. Not since the last time he had come home on leave, a decade before.

What would his reputation mean for Daphne?

All his concerns regarding the young woman in his care came rushing back to the forefront of Edward’s mind as he squared his shoulders and looked to the door. Daphne depended on him. He was her protector. Her guardian. Avoiding the aunt would do little to solve the difficulties facing him when it came to providing for the girl.

He took a step toward the door and at the same moment a soft knock sounded on the wood. He paused, cleared his throat, and tucked his pipe behind his back. “Enter.”

The door opened and Mrs. Lane came inside the study, her expression somewhat stern. She held the book in her hands where she made note of household needs and routines. “I have just come from speaking with Miss Price and Miss Daphne.”

Something about the set of his housekeeper’s jaw made him wonder if she’d switched allegiances. He really, truly did not know much about women, a fact that settled heavily upon his shoulders as he gestured for his housekeeper to sit at the desk while he resumed his own seat.

“I am eager for your report, Mrs. Lane.”

Her chin came up and her gaze was steadfast—brooking no opposition.

Yes. She’d joined up with the opposition. And for some reason, that made him want to smile.

* * *

After the housekeeper gave them a tour of the house, and then had a thorough conversation detailing what Felicity and Daphne required for settling in, she left them in a well-lit room which faced the front drive of the estate. With windows from floor to ceiling, and a comfortable couch before a well-lit fireplace, Felicity found herself content to remain there.

“This would be a most excellent music room,” she mused, looking at the tall shelves and empty half of the room. “A pianoforte would sit beautifully there, with the light on the keys. The shelves are perfect for holding music sheets and books. What do you think?”

Daphne bit her bottom lip as she took in the same things her aunt looked at, and nodded somewhat reluctantly. “I think so, too. The lighting is perfect.” She glanced at the door. “Mrs. Lane was kind.”

Barely keeping in a snort of amusement, Felicity agreed. “Indeed. At least someone in this house knows how to manage things.”

The housekeeper had listened, nodded, and asked intelligent questions of them when they had made their requests, giving them clear signs she intended to act on what they asked for, even advocate for some of the more inconvenient things on their long—and still incomplete—list.

“She reminds me of Mrs. Talbot at home,” Daphne murmured, the smile on her lips not at all making up for the sadness in her eyes. “I do like her.”

Felicity nodded, having felt a great deal of affection for the woman who had looked after her brother’s home. “A housekeeper with a good deal of sense is worth her weight in gold.” At least the Price estate had been able to keep on Mrs. Talbot, who would care for the shut up house that Daphne would one day inherit.

Mrs. Lane clearly knew the same truths about making herself dispensable as Felicity did. Felicity had lived the last decade that way, quietly ensuring that she provided enough value to her late brother that he never thought to ask her to leave.

The Colonel’s housekeeper would make a fine ally when it came to seeing to Daphne’s needs.

The requests they had issued that afternoon were not small ones. They had not merely asked for comforts in their rooms, but for everything Daphne would need to prepare for her opening Season. Felicity went over some items again in her mind, hoping she had left nothing of true importance out.

A music and dance instructor

A pianoforte, expertly tuned

A visit to a seamstress with a list of reputable establishments

A modiste

A milliner

A cobbler

A list of invitations they would need to secure for Daphne

A list of people she needed to meet, including the local vicar and his wife, and any nobility in the environs

Several outings in London to familiarize Daphne with the city, and city manners

Proper stationery and calling cards for social correspondence

A ladies’ maid specifically for Daphne

The Price jewels to be secured from the bank

Felicity tapped her finger on the arm of the couch as she went over each of those things, then the list of things Daphne needed for her bedchamber and in the household in general. Now they were listed out, she could see that it would cost a small fortune to set up the young woman for success and comfort.

As though reading her aunt’s thoughts, Daphne asked softly, “Do you think Colonel Halstead will comply with everything we asked for?”

She certainly hoped so. The man seemed so reasonable the evening before, up until the moment he had dismissed her. Given Daphne’s somewhat uncertain expression, Felicity decided it was best to make light of the situation. “Oh, I believe so. Colonel Halstead seems to pride himself on being capable. We will likely receive everything so he can make his point.”

Daphne’s smile appeared, brighter than it had been in weeks. “I think he would rather suffer a thousand battle wounds than appear incapable.”

Felicity patted her niece’s hand. “Then we most certainly will get our dance instructor.”

“Aunt Felicity? Did you hear what Mrs. Lane said, after we talked about needing to visit points of interest in London?” Daphne tilted her head to the side, her eyebrows raised. “What do you think she meant?”

Mrs. Lane had muttered as she made notes in a little book, and Felicity had not thought the woman meant for them to hear, “It’s about time the master gets dragged out of this house. Back to the land of the living.”

Turning those words over in her mind, Felicity finally shook her head. “I haven’t the faintest idea. Perhaps he has not ventured into Society much since the loss of his parents.” That had to be it, did it not? “Most likely, Colonel Halstead isn’t an entirely sociable person. It happens, you know, with confirmed bachelors. They become rather settled in their ways and see no reason to step outside of the place where they are most comfortable.”

“He seemed perfectly polite, though.” Daphne folded her hands in her lap, her gaze turning to the rather bland painting of a meadow above the fireplace, the only décor of note in the entire room. “One would think someone set in their ways would be a miserable grump rather than a kind gentleman.”

“Kind gentleman?” Felicity repeated and laughed. “That is quite the opinion to form when you have only seen him twice, once when we arrived and once at dinner.”

“Mrs. Lane likes him.” Daphne shrugged one shoulder upward. “And he was kind at dinner.”

“He has avoided us all day today, though.” Felicity frowned at the painting, its colors all drab browns and muted greens. “Hardly the sign of an attentive guardian.” He had not been at breakfast, had not sent them a note to excuse himself, and had sent the housekeeper in his stead. Where was the man?

The door to the room opened without a courteous knock, and Felicity turned her head to see who had walked in with such authority. She ought to have guessed, of course, that only Colonel Edward Halstead would move through Briarwood with such confidence. She hurriedly came to her feet, as did Daphne, and both curtsied to him.

“Colonel Halstead,” Felicity said, keeping her tone everything that was polite. “Good afternoon. How pleasant a surprise, to see you at last.”

The gentleman bowed slightly, and a slight twitch to his lips surprised her. He’d taken her jab with good humor. Interesting.

“Miss Price. Miss Daphne. I have reviewed your requests.” He gave Felicity a rather pointed glance as he paused, and her stomach twisted somewhat unpleasantly. “They are…extensive.”

An argument rose to her lips, but before she could give it voice, he continued in a low, measured voice.

“However, I see no reason why they should not be met.” He smiled broadly at Daphne, and the smile made him look less a stern military man and more a kindly benefactor. A handsome one, too. “You will have your instructors, your seamstress, and all the rest. The pianoforte was ordered this very morning.”

Daphne gave a happy gasp and took half a step forward in her joy. “Oh, thank you, Colonel Halstead. Truly. This is wonderful news. I promise we will be mindful of the costs?—”

He waved a hand to gently interrupt her. “Nonsense, Miss Daphne. It is my duty to look after you, and I will happily spend whatever necessary to make certain you are comfortable and well turned-out—as is my duty.” He glanced at Felicity again, tucking his hands behind his back. “As it so happens, I must tend to some matters in London myself. I will escort you both to Town in two days’ time. We will check off as many things from your list as we can, and schedule another visit after that. If such a plan is agreeable to you?”

It could not be more clear that he was asking for her opinion, and not his ward’s. Felicity hesitated only a moment before adding her gratitude to her niece’s. “That is very kind of you, Colonel Halstead. Thank you.” She curtsied, then put a hand on Daphne’s arm. “We must carefully plan for the occasion to make the most out of it.”

She glanced at the man, wondering if he would correct her—if she was meant to come with them on this London outing, or if she was meant to remain in the home at all.

But he merely continued to stand there, smiling. Pleased with himself. Why?

Asking him outright if she was staying would not be wise, especially in front of Daphne. He had to know she yet waited to learn her fate on that matter. Until Felicity knew, she would be horribly off balance. “I…I appreciate your willingness to see to Daphne’s needs, Colonel Halstead. It is most reassuring.”

She still wasn’t certain she trusted him to look after Daphne. But this was a start.

His lips quirked upward, and a flash of amusement went through his eyes. “I am relieved, then, for I should hate to disappoint you, Miss Price.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, confused by his smile and doubly so by his words. Disappoint her ? Whatever could he mean? She wasn’t accustomed to being anyone’s concern. Disappointing people required them to expect something of you first. It was easier, safer indeed, to be the one anticipating needs, not the one whose feelings others measured.

As a woman, and a single one at that, she had long since learned that the only way to assert herself in male company was to use directness to her advantage, and Felicity had no hesitation in doing so. “Your housekeeper said the most interesting remark as she left us earlier. I am therefore quite surprised at your eagerness to escort us to Town.”

Daphne blanched and turned to look at her, but Felicity kept a serene smile on her lips. She knew what she was doing.

“Did she?” Colonel Halstead gave a subtle shake of his head. “I cannot imagine what that might be.”

“She said something about…oh, let me see.” Felicity tapped her chin as though having to search to remember the words that were on the tip of her tongue. “Dragging you back to the land of the living? I think that was it.”

Releasing a slow exhale, the gentleman shook his head as a soft laugh escaped him. “Mrs. Lane has never been one to hold her opinions quietly, and I have always respected her for that.”

She lowered her hands to her sides, curiosity swelling. “What, precisely, did she mean?”

Though he kept his gaze on her, the Colonel did not immediately answer. His expression remained friendly enough, but his eyes seemed to darken and look through her. “I have been absent from Society, Miss Price. That much is true.” His gaze sharpened on hers once more. “And that is the extent of the tale.”

An evasion? How curious. The man was hiding something—but what? Would his reasons for keeping away impact Daphne’s chances at a good match? If he would not reveal the truth to Felicity… She would have to find out for herself. Somehow.

Daphne took another step forward and a little in front of Felicity, her disapproval of her aunt’s prying apparent in the movement. “I look forward to our trip to London, Colonel Halstead. Thank you.”

The man inclined his head. “I imagine it will prove…educational. To all of us.” His eyes flickered over Daphne’s shoulder to meet Felicity’s, and her chin came up.

“Indeed. I expect it will be,” she said, tone perfectly polite.

He looked from one woman to the other. “I will see you both again at dinner. Perhaps you will have an itinerary for our London trip by this time tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Daphne agreed quickly. Then looked at Felicity with raised eyebrows. “We will have it ready, will we not?”

Felicity gave her niece a reassuring nod. “Yes, darling. We will.”

“Good. Until dinner, then.” Colonel Halstead bowed as they curtsied, smiled at Daphne, sent one last curiously amused glance to Felicity, then left the room.

“Educational?” Daphne looked to her aunt. “What do you think he meant by that?”

“I suspect he wasn’t referring solely to your lessons.” Felicity retook her seat, with as calm an expression as she could manage.

Did she trust Colonel Halstead? No. Not yet. But he was proving himself by degrees. What troubled her at that moment was the tickle of curiosity she felt at the back of her mind. Curiosity about him.

Yes, she definitely wanted to know more about Edward Halstead.