Page 8 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #1)
Chapter Eight
MARCH 21ST, 1817
I n the weeks since her agreement with Halstead that she would be remaining at Briarwood for the foreseeable future, Felicity devoted all her attention to Daphne. At last, on the first evening of spring, Felicity would watch her niece attend a public entertainment. The Colonel would escort them both to the theater.
“I can hardly believe it,” Daphne said, pacing before the hearth in the parlor. “My first proper evening out—here, at last.”
The parlor was warm with candlelight, the fire burning low, making Daphne’s lilac-colored gown glow silver in the soft light. Felicity remained seated in her favorite chair, her keen eye taking in every detail of her niece’s appearance.
There was no official timing for mourning to come to an end, except in cases when royalty passed, and the Crown issued a decree on such a thing. Everyday people imitated royalty, of course, but it was still a matter often left up to the family. To individuals. Though she would miss her brother fiercely, Felicity knew it was time for Daphne to step into the next stage of her life, as dear Anthony would have wished. The fabric draped smoothly over Daphne’s form, the neckline low enough to suggest maturity while still maintaining modesty, and the spray of rosebuds in her hair brought out the natural beauty of her soft blush and shining curls.
“The theater is a perfect place to begin, both to see and be seen.” Felicity folded her gloved hands in her lap. “An excellent preparation for attending your first ball.”
That would be the moment in which Daphne truly stepped into Society; the moment when she could do more than visit museums and theaters, more than attend private events. She could go to balls. Receive offers of courtship. Perhaps even a voucher to Almack’s, if Halstead came through.
The man had spent a great deal of time in London of late, even spending nights at his club. He kept Felicity and the staff apprised of his comings and goings, should they have need for him, but he had barely been at Briarwood…which had been something of an unexpected frustration for Felicity.
He ought to spend more time with Daphne—or at least spend more time concerning himself with Daphne’s future.
“Are you certain the color of the gown is all right?” Daphne stood looking into a small oval mirror over the writing desk in the corner. “I know I am still in mourning…”
“It is a suitable color for a young lady, and your father would not wish you to wear grays or blacks one moment longer than you must.” Felicity smiled slightly. “It is perfectly appropriate.”
Besides, she herself wore enough drab gray for both of them. She had on a plain evening dress, modestly cut, in a fabric that would not so much as shimmer in gaslight. Her reticule, shawl, and fan were all black, too. No one would fault Daphne, young and on the verge of courtship, for dressing to attract the eye of suitable gentlemen…and no one would notice her aunt as more than a shadow to chaperone her.
Felicity rose and joined Daphne at the looking glass, standing behind her. She placed her hands on Daphne’s shoulders. “You are ready for this, Daffodil. You needn’t be nervous.”
For a moment, Felicity remembered when she had been the one standing on the brink of womanhood; when she had looked in the looking glass as her mother fussed over her gown and told her the same things. All would be well . That she would find her way.
But in Felicity’s case, it had all been lies.
She shook the bitter thought away and focused again on her niece.
The time spent preparing Daphne for her introduction to Society had passed far too quickly for Felicity. Not that Daphne needed an excess of time to prepare, of course. The girl had been raised from birth to know how to conduct herself properly, her father had seen to her education, and she had a kind and honest character. The practical matters however had caused concern, especially when the seamstress had fallen behind in her work, the dancing instructor had caught a cold, and the Lady Louisa’s friendship came with her mother’s judgmental conversation.
“You look elegant,” she assured her niece. “Perfectly suited to an evening at the theater. You will look neither ostentatious nor underdressed.”
“Lady Louisa will wear blue,” Daphne murmured, worry creeping into her tone. “Jewel tones, she said.”
Felicity arched a brow. Jewel tones, indeed. “Lady Louisa is making her full debut this Season—and she is the daughter of an earl. You, my dear, are not yet meant to dazzle, only to be observed. Tonight, you must be seen as a young lady of good sense, modest elegance, and excellent manners. Your time to stand out will come.”
“Yes. Of course.” Daphne nodded slowly. “It is, after all, only the theater,” she tried to say breezily, but a tremble in her voice betrayed her nerves.
Felicity smoothed a stray curl behind her niece’s ear, giving her a knowing look. “Yes, but it is the first time you will be seated in a place where half of London might turn their gaze upon you. Afterward, the card party will be filled with people who will speak of you to their friends, their sisters, and their sons. How they speak of you depends on your comportment this evening.”
“You are not making this easier,” Daphne said with a breathless laugh.
“I am preparing you,” Felicity corrected fondly. “Which is the best thing I can do for you.”
The door to their parlor opened, interrupting the conversation as both women turned to see Halstead enter. He was dressed for the evening in a sharp black coat, deep green waistcoat, and a perfectly tied, snowy white cravat.
It was the first time Felicity had seen him dressed formally. As he met her gaze, she felt her chest tighten and her cheeks warm. Colonel Edward Halstead looked the very image of masculine dignity, and she found she could not think of a man she had ever found more handsome than him.
What an absurd thought. Handsome men were not for women like her.
Not anymore.
His gaze left hers to take in Daphne, and he smiled with approval. “Daphne, you look wonderful. That color suits you.”
“Thank you, Colonel.” Daphne flushed with pleasure and dipped into a curtsy.
Felicity took a moment to observe Halstead, taking in his appearance again, noting the slight furrow in his brow. Was he nervous, too? Or perhaps merely uncomfortable with going out? He wasn’t much in Society, he had told her, though he’d spend near enough every waking moment at that club of his—and he’d promised to make an effort for Daphne’s sake.
“Are you ready for the evening?” he asked Daphne politely.
“I believe so.” Daphne sent one last look toward Felicity, still seeking reassurance.
Felicity took her niece’s gloved hand in her own, giving it a light squeeze. “Mind your posture, keep your voice pleasant, and let your natural charm do the rest.”
Daphne exhaled, squared her shoulders, and smiled. “Yes, Aunt Felicity.”
Halstead’s eyes flickered between them, something unreadable in his expression, though the furrow had deepened. He turned toward the door. “Then let us be on our way.”
They walked together all the way out the door to the carriage, where Halstead handed first Felicity and then Daphne inside. She tried to ignore her own nerves as Halstead slid into the seat across from her, facing the rear of the carriage.
“Never was there a man as lucky as I am,” he said after the door closed. “Escorting two such charming ladies to the theater. I am honored.”
Honored? He escorted two unmarried ladies in mourning, one on the cusp of life and one passed over by it.
A sting of regret for the past caused Felicity to wince and turn her gaze to the night-darkened window. She wasn’t flattered, not this time. She knew all too well that her sharp features and tall form well suited the part of a strict spinster. Wearing a gray gown that washed out her features did not help matters; she likely appeared as pale as the moon, if not outright sickly.
But it didn’t matter. None of it did. Let him play the gallant if he wished. Only Daphne’s future concerned her now, for her own was set. She would see her niece happily settled, then she would withdraw to some quiet village where she could lease a little cottage and live out her days tending to a garden and giving the neighbors something to gossip about.
That was all there was to it.
* * *
Edward settled in the carriage, adjusting his gloves before resting one arm lightly along the seat. He kept his tone light, teasing, but purposeful. “You clearly disapprove of something, Captain.”
Miss Price blinked at him from across the dim carriage, her hands neatly folded in her lap. “Do I?”
“Oh, yes,” he said, studying her in the flickering lantern light. “That look has been on your face since I returned to Briarwood this evening. Do not think I am unfamiliar with it, as it is the one you wore when we first met, and you disapproved of the entirety of me. I thought we had moved beyond that?”
Daphne looked between them, wide-eyed and uncertain.
Captain—or rather, perhaps Miss Price now that they were about to be out in the world—tilted her chin up slightly, prim as ever. “I would not presume to tell you how to manage your responsibilities, Colonel.”
Ah. There it was. She thought him shirking his duties in some way. But why? What could he have left undone?
“You must tell me all about the play we are to see tonight, Colonel. I have never heard of it before. Will it be well attended?” Daphne spoke swiftly, with a look on her face one might wear when leaping between two duelists. The girl did not enjoy seeing the two of them in conflict, however mild. A sweet sentiment, but it made him wonder if she knew how to handle herself in an argument. Perhaps he ought to study her reactions to such things. It would not do for her to enter the wider world without some thought as to how to handle disagreements—nor protect herself from them.
Edward gave his attention to Daphne, and each time he explained a thing to her satisfaction, she asked another question. The clever girl kept him talking all the way through the carriage ride, leaving her aunt to stare at the glass as though she could see through it to the darkness beyond. When they finally reached London’s outskirts, with lamps lighting the streets, Miss Price closed her eyes as though resting them from a great fatigue.
What had he done to offend her?
They arrived at the theater, and Edward soon found himself standing on the pavement with both ladies on his arms. They walked through the doors together and the moment they stepped into the lobby, Edward felt the weight of Society pressing down upon him.
A burden he had avoided for years.
Gaslight flickered against marble pillars, chandeliers gleamed overhead, and all around them, London’s finest moved in ripples of silk and murmured greetings.
Daphne tensed beside him though she hid it well, her hands tightening ever so slightly around her reticule. Miss Price, however, did not falter. She stepped forward with the practiced grace of a woman who knew exactly how this world worked, opening her black lace fan with a graceful flick of her wrist.
Edward watched her, wondering when had she last been here, at the heart of it all? Why did it feel as though she belonged here no more than he did?
He overtook Miss Price to lead them to the private balcony he had arranged for their use through Blackstone’s club. Lord Blackstone kept several choice seats on reserve for the popular theaters, all for the use of club members. It was an unexpected benefit to joining the Viscount’s club, and one Edward had happily taken advantage of for this particular occasion.
Daphne sat in a chair at the front of the balcony, and her aunt immediately settled on the chair behind her.
Edward frowned. It was not what he had expected. “Would you not prefer to sit at the front of the balcony, Miss Price?”
“I am content here,” she said, folding both her hands and fan in her lap. “You ought to sit next to Daphne, so others know of her connection to you.”
Well, that made some sense. He sat down next to his ward, but as she was busy perusing the theater bill in her hands, he turned in his chair to continue conversing with Miss Price. “Perhaps we could take turns. After intermission, you ought to sit here so you have a better view.”
Her eyes narrowed as though he had mortally wounded her. “It serves Daphne nothing to be seen seated next to me.”
“This is our first outing,” Edward said lightly, trying to elicit a smile. “Surely it cannot matter so much.”
Her jaw stiffened a moment before she answered. “Everything we do in the public eye will matter from this moment further. You ought not to look too concerned with the spinsterly chaperone, for one thing. I am her companion. I am not your responsibility.”
“We both know that is not entirely true. I look after members of my household.”
A wrinkle appeared at the bridge of her nose. “Of course.”
“Is that skepticism I hear?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea how your ears interpret sound, Colonel.”
He nearly laughed and instead bit back the smile that threatened to show. With some sympathy for Daphne’s discomfort, he stood and went to the door of the balcony, gesturing for Miss Price to follow. “We will return momentarily, Daphne.”
“Yes, Colonel.” Her shoulders relaxed, and she offered him a sweet smile.
Once Miss Price had stepped into the corridor with him, he lowered his voice. “The implication that there is something wrong with my hearing notwithstanding, you sound put out. Will you tell me what I have done, Captain Price? I doubt I could guess, considering I have politely stayed well out of your way for near a fortnight.”
“Out of my way?” she repeated, eyebrows climbing higher on her forehead. She had to tip her chin up to meet his gaze in the narrow passage, given their close proximity to one another. “Is that what you call your—your inexplicable leave of absence? Two weeks without deigning to bestow your company on your ward?”
Ah, now they were getting somewhere. “Did Daphne suffer without my company?” he asked, glancing at the door to the balcony curiously. “I think she seemed well enough.”
Miss Price bristled like a hedgehog. “Of course, she is well—I have done everything I could to give her the instruction and confidence she needs for her debut.” She kept her voice low, hardly above a whisper. The murmurs of the crowd in the theater and the foyer below nearly drowned out her words until he leaned closer. “A guardian who is always absent can hardly say he has done his duty. Daphne needs to come to know you, to trust you. Instead, you disappeared with hardly more than a word! I know bachelors are not used to sharing their quarters with ladies, but fleeing our company was hardly gentlemanlike.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Is that what you think? That I was avoiding Daphne? Avoiding you?” Edward shook his head, disbelief and irritation coursing through him. He had spent the last two weeks putting himself in the uncomfortable position of getting to know people; ingratiating himself to gentlemen and lesser lords, pretending an interest in things he cared naught for, like boxing matches and horse races and the blasted hunting.
“Avoiding us? The evidence speaks for itself,” she said, her eyes piercing him with indignation.
Edward could not let her misconstrue the situation a moment longer. “Miss Price. While you have been instructing Daphne on the proper way to hold a fan, I have been ensuring she will be invited to the events where she can flutter it.”
Her soft gray eyes filled with irritation—and perhaps the slightest curiosity. “And how have you done that, exactly?”
In the army, he’d never been challenged in such a way. His decisions were accepted and respected—at least, by the time he’d made captain. The same went for his dealings with his household staff, tenants, and in his business dealings. He barely knew Miss Price. He barely understood if he was annoyed by her question or admired her the more for it.
Edward exhaled sharply, pressing his lips together before speaking in a calm, measured tone. “I have spent the last two weeks at my new club, Blackstone’s, playing cards with men I have no interest in befriending. I have lost money to them on purpose. I have asked questions about their sisters and daughters while pretending to care about the state of the turf at Newmarket. I have listened to men boast of their prospects, their estates, and their politics, and smiled, and bought drinks, and loaned money, and flattered idiots, all to ensure that when the subject of my ward arises, they see her as someone worth welcoming into their ranks.”
Miss Price’s brow furrowed, as if she had not expected such an answer.
“It is not enough for Daphne to be well-mannered and charming,” Edward continued, his voice lower now but no less firm. “She must have sponsors. Invitations, connections, friendly faces—and that requires me to play a game I have never had any interest in. I have dined where I would rather not dine. I have endured conversations I would rather forget. I have worn clothes most uncomfortable and stayed up far too late, and I have done it all so that Daphne’s name will be on the right lists when the Season truly begins.” Edward leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a murmur. “You think I was neglecting my duty, Miss Price? I was doing the one thing I know how to do—something, forgive me, that you cannot. I was securing her future as a soldier secures a victory. By outmaneuvering those who might keep her from it.”
After a pause, Miss Price lowered her gaze to the vicinity of his cravat. He saw her throat bob with a swallow. “I…I see,” she said finally, her voice quieter than before. “I had not realized…”
Edward watched her closely, tilting his head to the side as he studied the play of emotion on her features. “No. I don’t suppose you had.”
Her gray eyes flickered up to meet his again, her chin lifted but with less irritation than before. “Then I suppose I must thank you, Colonel. It is no small thing to endure insipid conversation for the greater good.”
The unexpected levity in the statement made a quiet laugh escape him. “That, Miss Price, was certainly the greatest hardship of all.”
“Men ought to receive medals for such things.”
“Indeed.”
The slightest smile curved her lips, and Edward found himself watching the movement with interest. Goodness, she had a lovely smile. It appeared all too infrequently. She was a beautiful woman; formidable when she wished to be, but at moments like this—or when she interacted with Daphne—there was a gentleness to her that made him question why no man had wed her.
Edward leaned closer to her, looking into her eyes again. “You know even when I am not at home, you are always welcome to contact me. Write me. Even send for me, if need be. I will always come.”
Her gaze flickered downward and back again. Even in the flickering light of the corridor, he saw the pink rise in her cheeks. A most becoming color on her, to be sure. “I-I think I managed well enough in your absence, but I appreciate knowing that. Thank you.”
He leaned nearer, lowering his head as his chest tightened. “I am certain you had matters well in hand. I doubt you even missed me.”
What was he doing? Looming over her as he was, he was bound to frighten her, to offer insult. He needed to get hold of himself at once.
Step away. Far, far away.
Miss Price swayed toward him just enough that he sensed the hem of her gown brushing the tops of his shoes. “Miss you?” She tilted her head back a little more, bringing the slight smile of her lips closer. “Certainly not.”
He chuckled, and another clever retort rose to his lips?—
Laughter from the corridor pulled him out of the moment as his head jerked in the direction of the stairs, just as he heard a small gasp from Miss Price. He returned his attention to her as she took a step back, placing her hand on the latch for the door to their balcony seats.
“I ought to return to Daphne. Poor thing will think she’s been abandoned.” She did not wait for him to speak but opened the door and slipped through—leaving Edward in the corridor, alone, to clear his muddled thoughts.
Had he nearly… No. Of course not. He wasn’t about to kiss the aunt of his ward. Most likely, she would run him through if he tried. They had, perhaps, been carried away in their argument; which, truly, had stopped seeming like an argument fairly quickly. It had almost felt playful, the way Miss Price had spoken to him, the challenge in her voice while her eyes shone with enjoyment.
He shook his head, hoping to clear it, then heaved a sigh, squared his shoulders, and rejoined the ladies in the balcony, seating himself next to his ward. He glanced over his shoulder only once at Miss Price, a few minutes after the entertainment began, and found her staring straight ahead without even the slightest smile on her lovely face.
Edward gave his full attention to the theatrical, letting his mind think on nothing beyond the lights of the stage. That seemed the safest course of action, for now, in any case.
Because if he thought too long on the way Felicity Price had looked at him in the corridor, or the way she had leaned in for a breath of a second, he knew he would find himself in a great deal of trouble.