Page 25 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love

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.”