Page 23 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love

Silently, Lord Blackstone observed him. He blew a puff of smoke that formed a ring before it dissipated to float in the air above them, a cloud of tobacco-scented mist forming. “You have letters of reference?”

Edward reached into his jacket and took out letters of character, written by military peers and commanders after he had resigned his post.

Lord Blackstone picked them up, barely glancing at more than the signatures before folding them and handing them back. He opened a drawer and took out a large book that looked like the ledgers Edward had in his own study. He also took out a sheet of paper he held out to Edward. “Our code of conduct and agreements.” He opened the ledger to a page half-filled with names, dates, and amounts, took out a pen, and dipped it in ink.

After a glance at the paper, Edward looked up again, half in shock, half unsure. “I am admitted to your club?”

“On a probationary period, yes.” Lord Blackwell kept at his work, writing something down. “You will pay your dues, of course. I prefer a year’s worth at once, but not everyone can afford that. I make the books public at the end of each year, of course, so the members can see where their funds go. Special events we host will require the purchase of vouchers. You are permitted to bring guests, provided they abide by our rules while here. We also have rooms on the second floor that our members may make use of for a small fee, to cover costs of laundry and the servants’ wages. You may use the club as a reference of character of course, too, after your probationary period ends.”

Hardly believing his good fortune, Edward asked, “How long is the probationary period?”

“Three months, I should think.” Lord Blackstone turned the ledger around. “Sign here, please.” He tapped a line beneath the entry for Edward’s date of membership.

Edward signed, hardly able to believe the whole interview was, to all intents and purposes, over. “I will pay the dues at once, my lord. A year’s worth.”

“Excellent. Now, let me take you on the tour, and I will introduce you to those currently within our walls.” He stood, picked up his pipe, and gestured to the door. “If you have questions, do ask.”

Edward glanced at the badger’s portrait behind the desk, then at the shelves full of animals. “Well. There was one thing that concerned me, Lord Blackstone. I have noticed all the hunting trophies. I have to confess, I do not enjoy the sport, and have not taken part in a hunt since my days in the military.”

Lord Blackstone’s chest puffed up. “I have not hunted in an age, either. These fine specimens you see here are not from hunts.” His eyes twinkled, and he looked about himself with no small measure of pride. “I have a great fondness and affection for animals. Everything you see in this club is here because of that fondness—they have all died natural deaths. I make it a point to ensure it is so before I obtain a specimen.”

Though Edward immediately doubted such was the case, he nodded with solemnity. “That is a relief, my lord.” He looked at the fine feathers of a red bird on one shelf. Lord Blackstone could believe whatever he wished about his collection.

“Wait until you see the giraffe,” the Viscount said brightly as they left his study. “Enormous thing. I could only fit it in the billiard room from the neck up. Looks like it’s coming through the floor.” He chuckled. “Though I am thinking of having it moved. I can never settle on permanent places for anything.” He pointed to a leopard’s head as they passed it in the corridor. “I think this fellow would be better suited behind a door, for one thing. Can you imagine the surprise of closing a door to have that beauty snarling at you from behind it?”

“It seems the sort of surprise that may cause shock, my lord,” Edward admitted, studying the teeth of the creature as they passed. The animal would startle him if he came upon it unexpected, alive or dead. “At least, the very first time.”

“Shock, awe, and amazement,” Lord Blackstone said with a chuckle. His delight seemed innocent enough, though.

The tour took the better part of two hours, in part because Lord Blackstone introduced Edward to at least a dozen members, but also because the Viscount enjoyed pointing out the most exotic creatures in his collection. He was especially proud of a full-sized emperor penguin just outside the water closet. Then Lord Blackstone gave Edward cards from the club, invited Edward to the theater and a dinner hosted by himself, and finally took his leave to attend to another appointment in his study.

It had been easier than Edward anticipated, joining the club. His name was in the ledger, and in the guest book, and he had introductions to other gentlemen in Society well underway. He had an invitation not only to a private dinner but a public outing, and cards in his pocket that would aid him in future introductions. He returned to the room on the first floor, ordered tea, and made himself pleasant company to the others present.

Edward leaned back in his chair, the scent of fresh tea mixing with the faint musk of old fur and polished wood.

He had done it.

His name was on the ledger, it was official. His introductions had begun. If all went as planned, Daphne would soon have the connections she needed. It had been easier than he anticipated; easier than White’s, easier than Brook’s, easier than any of the doors that had closed to him a decade ago.

Edward took another sip of tea, settling into the odd comfort of Blackstone’s club. His gaze drifted across the room, past a gentleman reading the Times, past another pouring brandy, and landed on a rather large glass case near the door.

Inside sat a stuffed squirrel on a fabricated tree. Holding a miniature cane. Wearing a top hat.

Edward exhaled. Well, this was his life now. A strange host, and even stranger environs.

And yet, as he lifted his teacup, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Blackstone’s was exactly where he was meant to be.

Chapter Eight

MARCH 21ST, 1817

In 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.