Page 49 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love

“But in the carriage—you said you disliked dancing.”

“Ah. Yes.” So he had. “I should amend the statement. I do not mind it, if my partner is an enjoyable companion.”

“You find my company enjoyable?”

Why did she sound so surprised?

Edward lowered his gaze to the ground for a moment. “Is that so astonishing?” Then he raised his eyes, but kept his head tipped down, trying to win her over with a smile. Hoping to see her smile.

Her lips curved, but the expression did not quite reach her eyes. “Chaperones do not dance, Colonel. Especially when it is a waltz, which is what I believe is next.”

His chest tightened at the quiet refusal. “I see.” He shifted slightly, acting as though the rejection had not affected him. “And that poses a problem.”

“I do not think you ought to be seen dancing with me, either,” she added, a flush that was not a flush gracing her cheeks. “Best if we maintain a respectable distance from each other. In public, especially.”

That was an entirely different matter, yet he understood. “I imagine you have no desire to give anyone the wrong ideas?”

Felicity inclined her head, but something in her gaze softened. “I think it best we not invite speculation or gossip. For Daphne’s sake.” She glanced away as the music swelled, beginning another song, another dance. When she spoke again, he had to strain to hear her. “I have already had to quell well-meaning comments on the matter.”

Had she? That didn’t please him. “I understand,” he said quietly. And he did. But that did not mean he had to linger. In fact, it was best if he did not. “If you will excuse me, Miss Price.”

“Of course, Colonel.”

Did he imagine the disappointment in her eyes?

Edward left her at the edge of the ballroom, stepping out through the terrace doors and into the cool, crisp air of the gardens. The distant strains of music and laughter filtered through the hedges, but he ignored them, focusing instead on the peace of the evening.

“Get hold of yourself, man,” he muttered, then cursed at himself for speaking aloud again. He was not in his own gardens, free to speak his mind as he beheld his flourishing roses.

Edward walked deeper into the garden and the night air. He took in several deep breaths, and closed his eyes. Despite the relative tranquility of the gardens, his inner state tumbled with confusion. He had known for some time that his feelings for Felicity were not strictly appropriate. Not for a man in his position, not for a woman in hers. But tonight, with the warmth of her rejection still lingering, the truth was far more difficult to ignore.

Did he want her?

The answer was undeniable.

Did he care for her? Or was this merely surface level, physical yearning?

Edward exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if the gesture might dispel the thoughts entirely. He had come outside to clear his mind, not to sink deeper into the confusion she so effortlessly inspired.

And yet here he was, once again, wrapped up in thoughts of the woman with dark eyes and a stubborn chin. A woman he respected, who lived beneath his roof. A woman who showed a strength of intelligence and compassion, even toward him when he did not bend to her will.

Goodness, he had not let his thoughts get this tangled over a woman in a long time—and never to this extent. How had he allowed this to happen? And what could he do about it now?

Before Edward came anywhere near solving the problem, he heard a murmur of voices drifting through the neatly trimmed hedges behind him. Edward stilled, recognizing one of them immediately.

Daphne.

Had she slipped out of the ballroom when he left? Had Felicity accompanied her?

He took a quiet step forward, ears straining to catch the words, hoping treacherously to hear Felicity’s voice.

“You must admit, Colonel Halstead is rather overzealous in his concern,” came Lady Louisa’s voice, amusement evident in her tone.

“You needn’t tell me,” Daphne replied, exasperation and humor woven through her words. “He watches me like I am bound to tumble down a well at the slightest provocation.”

Lady Louisa giggled. “Even my father does not watch me so,” the Earl’s daughter chimed in, her voice dripping with condescension. “My mother rarely pays attention to what I do, even within her sight. I should go mad if I were you, Miss Price.”

A male voice, the young Mr. Montague’s, spoke next. “He is a concerned guardian. I think he means only to keep you safe, Miss Price. I know I have felt overly protective of my sister on occasion.”