Page 37 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love

What a ridiculous question. He was obviously fit as a fiddle, as handsome and healthy as ever. Felicity winced. Why did she have to note his attractiveness every time she saw him? It was becoming a terrible habit.

“Tolerably well,” he said with a chuckle. “Oh. Here—I have wanted to show you this.” He moved by her, but then his hand closed gently on her forearm as he tugged her across the corridor to the very room in which she had hid a moment before. “I hoped to ask your opinion before now, but it was not a matter of great urgency.”

She heard him walk through the darkness, saw his outline approach the curtains, then he pulled them back to flood the room with light.

It was most definitely not the same as the last time she had seen it.

The wooden floor was now covered in several rugs. There were two armchairs by the empty hearth and a couch near the opposite wall, and a painting of an old castle hung over the fireplace. The still-mostly-empty shelves now had books scattered within them, and there were two crates next to the shelves open, more book spines showing within them.

“I haven’t the first idea how to decorate a house, but I do know the importance of a good library. Keeping all the best books to myself in the study struck me as selfish. I have already asked for Daphne to give me a list of her favorite books to add to the shelves in here. I hope you will have suggestions, too.”

Felicity walked numbly to the shelves, looking down into the crate, then up at him with a frown. “You—you are filling your library? Now?”

“I started ordering things from London shortly after you brought my attention to the—shall we say—bland contents of the rooms in my home.” The Colonel’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he looked at her, a brightness in them she did not expect. As though he were amused, or actually happy for once.

She hugged the invitations closer to her chest. The feelings of confusion curled cozily around her heart, changing into something else. Something warm and satisfactory, like a stand-offish cat curling up in one’s lap.

He had listened to her.

“I should not have said all that I did,” she whispered. “It isn’t my place.”

Halstead’s smile faded into something smaller, less enthusiastic and gentler. “You are concerned for your niece’s happiness,” he said, his voice low. “You were within your rights, in that regard, to be concerned about her home. Besides, you are not the only one who regrets words spoken that day. I apologize.”

She nodded once. “That is kind of you to say. Apology accepted. Thank you.”

He came a step closer. “Miss Price. Are you certain you are well enough to be up and about? Perhaps you ought to be resting—you do not seem yourself.”

“Neither do you,” Felicity muttered softly, rubbing her forehead with her free hand. She could not convince herself to dredge up the indignation she had felt when she had planned to confront him about the garden party, and the game of lawn bowling, and the invitations.

She did not want to soften toward him. She wanted to remain annoyed with him, with his high-handedness—but something about his expression, the steady gaze he kept upon her, the concern in his eyes and the way he shifted, as if resisting the impulse to come closer…it unnerved her.

When he was like this, when he showed such gentleness, he was more handsome than ever. A thing which immediately dismayed her, and it gave her the ability to find a touch of tartness. “I assure you, Colonel, I am not so delicate that a mild cold will confine me for days on end.”

Given that she still felt the last of the illness clinging to her, befuddling her usually quick mind, it was a horrid lie.

Nevertheless, Felicity held her chin high and tried to regain her composure. “I came to discuss something of importance, unless you are too occupied with other matters.”

Colonel Halstead studied her for a long moment, then gestured to the chairs in front of the cold hearth. “Would you like to sit while we talk?” He glanced at the door. “Or we could return to my study if it is a matter of great seriousness.”

Felicity looked to the door and tugged her shawl closer to her shoulders. “It is rather cold in here, without a fire.”

“Of course, I should not have suggested it. Come, the study is warm.” He led the way back to his domain, and she hesitated a moment before following.

When she stepped inside the study, the air was warm and laced with the scent of ink parchment, along with the faintest trace of his scent, a mix of soap and other things she found far too pleasant and familiar.

His desk was still cluttered with papers, ledgers, and an abandoned cup of tea. She resisted the urge to glance at whatever notes might be scattered there from his meeting with the stranger. Ill, she might be, but ill-mannered, she was not. Instead, Felicity took her seat and kept her eyes on him until he settled on the other side of the desk in his large leather chair, putting his elbows on the desk and folding his hands on its surface.

“What is it you wished to speak with me about?”

Best to get straight to the point. “There are several invitations here for various parties and balls. If you are going to insist on being overly protective of Daphne, I require clarification. I am certain you will have an opinion on which invitations ought to be accepted and which declined.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Of course I will.”

Felicity straightened her spine. At last, she felt her ire return to her. “Then I must ask if I am to run every social decision through you now, Colonel, or will you allow me to do my duty and guide Daphne without interference?”

His gaze sharpened. “I think I ought to be consulted with regards to where Daphne spends her time. Once at such events, it would be ridiculous for every detail to need discussion.”

“Especially since you will be acting as her shadow at every turn.”