Page 39 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love

Pamela. The woman he had ruined with his own recklessness. His selfishness.

Her focus moved to her lap, and he relaxed even as he felt a prickle of disappointment. She hadn’t really known what she asked. Truly, how could she want to know any details of his past beyond what was necessary for them to work together in the present? No, there was no more to be said on the matter. She would apologize for her intrusive question. She would leave the study. They would argue about handling Daphne’s social forays later, after this awkward ceasefire had passed.

“I fell in love when I was Daphne’s age,” Felicity said, her words startling him for all that they were softly spoken. “I loved, I pined, for a full year, dreaming of the one I cared for coming to see that I was the best choice for him. I put off my coming out into Society so I could stay in his vicinity, in the country. I told my parents, I insisted to them, that I was not ready for an experience in London.”

She looked up at him again, a sad smile curving her lips. “Finally, he noticed me. His approach was cautious at first. He was a younger son, I thought he was shy. But now…now I wonder if he was merely reluctant. He was a younger son, for one thing, and though my dowry was of decent size, a marriage settlement would be much less. Not enough to live on in the way he was accustomed.”

Ought he to stop her words? Tell her she need not relive something that obviously pained her? But Edward had not asked a question to lead to this. Felicity revealed her past of her own volition…and the more she spoke of this younger son, of her first love, the more intrigued he became.

“I told him I would wait for him.” A laugh with a note of bitterness escaped Felicity’s lips before they pressed together in a grimace. “As long as it took. I believed I loved him enough to wait, that his mutual affection would in turn be patient. He accepted my promise, and he went away. To stay with an uncle, to study the law. We were not permitted to write to one another directly, of course. I could only receive news of him from the letters he wrote to his family, and they were sparse indeed. My parents thought him weak willed. They spoke against him in my hearing…but they loved me, and they wanted my happiness. It was a difficult balancing act, especially with Anthony going away to fight in the war and men like…like him remaining home. Younger sons fill the military, as I am certain you know.”

He felt himself agreeing with her parents, given he already suspected what the end of the story would be.

Felicity sat before him, unmarried still, after all.

When she looked up at him, he felt he should smile, should respond; he had been silent for so long while she unearthed a painful history to him. Edward cleared his throat. “I am aware. Anthony was quite an exception to that. Despite his place as eldest son, he truly believed he fought for the good of others, that it was a duty and a calling.”

“I miss him,” Felicity said, pulling her shawl tighter about her shoulders. “I wish he had been home when my…when the man I thought I loved came home at last. Unexpectedly. Already married.”

Edward hadn’t expected that ending. He sat straighter in his chair, hands splayed on the desk. “What? I thought you were going to tell me he had died!”

She blinked up at him, eyebrows furrowing in evident confusion. “No. No, he’s quite alive. And married. She was a young widow, her husband died at war, and she had a substantial income.”

“The cad,” Edward said, shaking his head in utter disbelief. “You were waiting for him, honorably and patiently, and he returned home already married? Without warning? Felicity, why do you still mourn him?”

She blinked. “I…I do not mourn him.”

“You looked heartbroken the moment you began the story,” Edward pointed out, looking into her eyes heavy with emotion. With… “No. You cannot still wish for him? Not a man who would behave so dishonorably toward you.”

“Your defense of my feelings is kind, Edward.” The puzzlement on her face made him sink back into his chair. “But it is not necessary. I know he did not behave honorably. Truly.”

“Yet you remain unwed?” He winced. “That is truly none of my business, I apologize.”

Felicity’s lips twitched upward and the darkness in her eyes receded a little, making way for a twinkle of amusement. “No, it is not. You see, by the time that gentleman—” Edward snorted at that term, for surely it could not apply to such a scoundrel, “—returned home with his bride, and after I recovered from my hurt, I did not wish to face more disappointment. Not right away. I was but three and twenty.” Her somber expression returned, a flicker of pain passing over her face. “Around that time, Anthony’s wife, Margaret, fell ill. Daphne was only seven years old. I stayed with them to help, and Margaret died a few months after Anthony came home from the war. I stayed on, for my brother and niece’s sake. My parents passed away a few years ago. I had made myself so useful, Anthony said I ought to continue on with him until Daphne wed, and…that brings us to now.” She gestured with both hands, palms up, to the study and then to him.

“To this very moment.” Edward took in her soft features, the set of her chin, the dark hair that framed her face and the plain gray gown she wore. He had yet to see her outside of mourning colors. The sharp lines of her face, the depth of her eyes, the delicate movements of her hands, were enough to make her a stunning woman. But what if she wore the deep greens he was himself fond of?

He cleared his throat. That thought had no business in his mind. It did not matter what she wore; all that mattered was that they worked well together to set Daphne on a path of success and happiness. In honor of her father’s memory, and for the girl’s own sake.

“Thank you for sharing your history with me, Felicity.” He had not expected that sort of confidence from her. She had struck him almost as an adversary in their first days and weeks together; fierce in her defense of Daphne, in her demands for her niece’s needs, but never asking for anything for herself.

That realization struck him hard in that moment. He had taken each of her demands, her instructions, and honored them, but always with the feeling that he was capitulating, giving in to her wants and her ways. But in truth, everything she asked for was on Daphne’s behalf.

“What do you need?” he asked, moving to the edge of his chair.

Felicity blinked at the abrupt shift in conversation. “I-I beg your pardon?”

“Surely there is something you need that you have not expressed. You have been here a month with your niece, and I have seen bills for her upkeep and her wants. But what of you? What do you need, Felicity?”

As her shoulders relaxed, the woman before him shook her head. “I need nothing from you, Edward. Nothing except your trust.” She stood and a slight smile, not precisely warm but at least not adversarial, curled her lips upward. “Let me know which of those invitations are acceptable soon, please. Daphne’s schedule is important.” Without another word she curtsied and left the room, with him staring after her.

Edward remained seated, the memory of Felicity’s story lingering in the stillness of the study. He stared at the door through which she had vanished, grappling with the shift in their relationship.

What she shared: it had peeled back layers of her own guarded past, revealing vulnerabilities he hadn’t expected to discover. It wasn’t the past itself but the simplicity with which Felicity had shared it that unsettled him. Her raw honesty was a thing he often avoided within himself. Though an honorable man, Edward kept much of what he felt to himself. Let the world see his good cheer, not the dark shadows of his history, of what the war had done, what life had done. What he had done to himself.

The room seemed somehow emptier after Felicity had left. As if her presence had filled it more than her slight form ever could. Why was he so often in this single room, alone, when he had a whole house at his disposal? A house he could easily fill with friends and neighbors. But instead he sat behind this desk, his back to his garden and the rest of the outside world.

Edward rubbed his temples where the beginnings of a headache throbbed. A physical manifestation, perhaps, of the emotional pains the conversation had stirred.