Page 27 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love

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.

Chapter Nine

The 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.”