Page 9 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #1)

Chapter Nine

T he drawing room in Lord Donwell’s townhouse was a glittering display of Society at play, laughter and the quiet murmur of conversation rising over the gentle clink of teacups and the shuffle of cards. It was far livelier than the theater they had just left, and the differences in atmosphere took some getting used to.

Felicity had excused herself from the card tables as most of the chaperones had, choosing instead to observe their charges from discreet edges of the room. Halstead had disappeared into the billiard room with their host and several other gentlemen, which was just as well. Daphne needed space to navigate without her every move being shadowed.

Besides, she herself—if she were being truthful—needed a moment alone. Her fingers toyed with the edge of her fan as she stood near a marble-topped side table, her gaze moving over the room without truly focusing.

She had nearly kissed Colonel Halstead.

The thought made her stomach tighten, though she refused to acknowledge whether it was from embarrassment or…something else. Something more disastrous for a woman in her position.

It had been the smallest of moments, the breath of a second where her world had tilted dangerously. And she would not let it happen again.

Pressing her lips together, Felicity inhaled deeply, as if she could steady herself with the mere act of breathing. It was foolish to even think on that interlude in the corridor. Whatever had passed between them had been nothing more than a lapse in judgment. A closeness born of a shared moment of humor. A misunderstanding. She might have completely misunderstood the moment!

A moment which must not happen again.

She had not come to London to entangle herself in unwise affections. As a spinster, a maidenly aunt, a chaperone, a woman whose age put her above most of Society’s reproach, she danced at the edge of respectability.

Besides, she was here for Daphne’s future, not her own.

“Miss Price, is it not?”

Felicity affected a polite smile, turning sharply to find herself face-to-face with a Mrs. Yates, a woman of middling years, impeccably dressed, and possessed of the sort of sharp, knowing eyes that saw more than people wished.

Felicity dipped into a polite curtsy. “Mrs. Yates. A pleasure.”

The woman’s gaze flickered toward Daphne, who was seated at a nearby card table, speaking with a young gentleman.

“Your niece is charming,” Mrs. Yates observed, her tone almost bored. “And in good hands, I believe.”

“Colonel Halstead is a most responsible guardian,” Felicity replied, nodding her agreement. “He has seen that she has all she needs for her comfort.”

Mrs. Yates made a soft, amused sound, tipping her head. “Oh, I do not doubt that he is responsible now. But it is always interesting, is it not, when a man so firmly ensconced in bachelorhood suddenly finds himself with a ward. I wonder…” She tapped a gloved finger lightly against the stem of her wineglass. “Do you know much about his younger years, Miss Price?”

Felicity kept her face a mask of calm disinterest. This was a test. Everything in Society was a test. “I cannot say that I do. My brother spoke highly of him, he saved the colonel’s life. I know he served with distinction in the war,” she added, tone even.

Mrs. Yates lifted a delicate brow. “Oh, indeed he did. And before that?”

A pause.

Resisting the urge to tighten her grip on her fan, Felicity maintained an air of cool composure. “I cannot say I have inquired much into Colonel Halstead’s youth. His maturity is naught but respectable.”

“Mmm.” Mrs. Yates took a slow sip of her wine, her eyes glinting with the sort of satisfaction one gets from knowing something others do not. Felicity knew it well. “It is all rather old gossip, you understand,” she continued with a wave of her hand, as if it were nothing. “And I confess I do not recall the particulars. But I do seem to remember there was a young lady involved, and of a rather important family. The names elude me now—so much time has passed. I recall most thought it a rather unfortunate incident. His family, I believe, sent him to war as punishment. Though, of course, such things are hardly spoken of now.”

“How mysterious.” Felicity’s breath hitched so slightly, so imperceptibly, that she hoped the gossipy woman did not notice. People who spoke so lightly of others’ reputations were always looking for a reaction. She would not give Mrs. Yates the satisfaction, if she could help it. “You do not remember the particulars?” she asked, keeping her tone carefully neutral.

“No, no,” Mrs. Yates said, sighing in disappointment. “Only that it was a rather delicate situation. A shame, really. I recall he was quite the promising young man when they sent him away. But war made him into something greater, did it not?”

Felicity’s stomach twisted. She should brush it off. Dismiss it. And so she did. “Tales that grow so hazy with time are hardly worth ruminating over now, are they? When the details are lost, such things hardly bare repeating,” she said smoothly, offering a thin, polite smile. “I prefer to judge a man on the actions of his present, rather than whispers of his past.”

Mrs. Yates laughed lightly, tilting her head as if amused by Felicity’s response. “A commendable philosophy, Miss Price. A rare one, too.” She sipped once more at her glass, then said, “But I wonder how you can afford to think in such a way, with your niece’s future in the Colonel’s hands?” With that she took her leave, her skirts sweeping the floor as she moved on to some other conversation, some other reputation to weigh and measure.

Felicity exhaled slowly.

She would not let this bother her. Colonel Edward Halstead was a man of good character; she had seen it with her own eyes, but the words curled at the edges of her mind, refusing to be banished.

A young lady. A punishment.

The idea bothered her, yet why should it? He had told her he went to war young, only eighteen. Many a person made youthful mistakes, said or did things their parents did not approve of, at that age. She had given her own parents fits when she refused to have a proper coming out when she turned eighteen. She hadn’t wanted to put herself on display. They had kept her home, in the country, for two more years. When she had entered Society for herself, she did it quietly. Not at all like all her friends.

Not at all the way Daphne would take her first steps into the public eye.

Her niece was beautiful. Intelligent. Kind-spirited. She had lived her life protected and loved. She deserved all the beautiful things a true Season brought, Felicity knew, whether this first one ended with a good match or not. London’s richness would be Daphne’s to enjoy and indulge in. Felicity would see to that.

And Halstead had promised to do what was right and best for Daphne. Thus far, his honorable behavior, beneficence, and kindness had done nothing to warrant Felicity’s concern. Though Mrs. Yates had tried to plant a seed of doubt, Felicity need not nurture it by letting her thoughts dwell upon such idle speculation.

That decided, she gave herself a firm nod and then nearly jumped out of her skin when a gentle hand touched her forearm.

“Aunt Felicity? Lady Louisa, Miss Clark, and her brother Mr. Paul Clark have invited me to walk through the portrait gallery with them. The door is over there.” Daphne innocently pointed to double doors already open to allow guests the opportunity to walk through and stretch their legs. “Is it all right if I accompany them?”

Felicity cast her gaze to the trio standing a few paces away, all waiting for her decree before they left the confines of the card room. She gave them an approving smile. Daphne needed friends, and what she knew of the Clarks made up for her concerns over Lady Louisa, daughter of Lady Kendal. “Of course, darling.”

Moving about would also help Daphne stay awake and bright, as the girl was still unused to the late hours of London Society.

“Thank you, Aunt.” Daphne rejoined her friends and the four of them walked to the gallery doors. Lady Louisa on the young man’s arm, and Daphne arm-in-arm with Miss Clark, all of them already speaking with animation, as young people did when finding themselves in amiable company.

After they had stepped through the room, Felicity wandered to that side of the room, unhurried, placing herself where she could periodically glance through the gallery doors to be certain Daphne stayed in sight.

She had just gained the best position when she sensed the approach of someone taller, larger than herself. A smile twitched at her lips as she turned to greet the Colonel. “Colonel Halstead. How did you do at billiards?”

His brow was furrowed as he joined her, and he glanced around the room with the air of someone displeased at what he saw.

Was he truly so very against Society and crowds?

“It must not have been a successful game, with you looking like that,” Felicity said, keeping her smile in place. If anyone looked over and saw him scowling, they would not suppose it her fault.

He barely looked at her from the corner of his eye. “The game was fine—but where is Daphne? I did not see her anywhere when I entered, and she is not with you. Have you lost her?” The accusation in his tone would have made her defensive, had she not seen the concern in his eyes.

Felicity kept her temper in check, still smiling. “Why, she has only stepped into the portrait gallery with some friends—after securing my permission, naturally. They are taking a bit of exercise after sitting at the card table overlong.”

The Colonel’s gaze flitted to the doors of the gallery, then focused again on her. “Friends?”

“The Clarks and Lady Louisa.” The amount of questions he asked at least proved he made an engaged guardian, but really, she felt as though she were under examination from her old schoolmistress. “Is there something wrong, Colonel? Have you any objection? We have spoken of Lady Louisa, the Earl of Kendal’s daughter. The Clarks are from a fine family, Mr. Paul Clark is studying the law and his sister?—”

He loomed over her, brows knit tightly together. This closeness wasn’t nearly as pleasant as the one outside the balcony at the theater, and when he lowered his voice, it was to a disapproving rather than an intimate tone. “You mean to tell me there is a gentleman alone with Daphne, and you are not with them?”

“The other ladies present?—”

“Are mere girls.” Colonel Halstead shook his head and abruptly walked away from her, directly to the gallery, through its doors and down the long corridor where Felicity could plainly see Daphne with the others. She took a step in that direction, raising a hand to—what? Stop Halstead? The man was like a brown bear, people stepping out of his way on instinct. She could no more halt him than she could a tumbling boulder.

Standing still and smiling as though all was right with the world was the best thing for her to do, especially since she could not understand his actions. Felicity had thought they were on the same side; that he trusted her.

Apparently, she had been mistaken.

She watched, unable to even make out what anyone said, as he bowed to the little group. He spoke and extended his arm to Daphne. She took it. He brought her back to the card room, to a table. The Colonel helped her into a chair then positioned himself across the table to partner with her in Whist.

Daphne looked over her shoulder but once. Felicity thought she saw disappointment on her niece’s face, but the young lady then turned to her hand of cards with a cheerful smile as they played with another couple.

Felicity wove her way through the room again, nodding at renewed acquaintances, until she rejoined a small group of chaperones near one of the open windows. Her cheeks had grown hot as she watched Halstead fetch her niece—as though Daphne were a misplaced doll, or a child in need of constant minding! Thankfully Daphne did not seem to realize the slight. But Felicity…she felt it keenly.

He did not trust Felicity’s judgment. He did not trust Daphne’s behavior. If he kept Daphne that close all Season, the girl would make few friends, gain fewer introductions, and her prospects would be fewer still. Felicity watched as Daphne bit her bottom lip and stared out the window into the night, but the London sky held as little guidance as it did stars on that cloudy March evening.

What was she going to do about this newest problem?