Page 58 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love

Edward slowed and raised his eyebrows at her.

She glanced up at him, her expression open and thoughtful. “Mr. Montague, I mean.”

“I assumed that is who you meant.” Edward kept his voice carefully even as his chest tightened. “In what manner?”

Daphne smiled a little at that. “I do not know yet.” She looked ahead to the waiting carriage. “I enjoy his company. He is kind. He is intelligent, and he makes me laugh.”

Edward listened carefully, his mind already pulling at arguments about forming too quick an attachment, about her youth, about young Montague’s prospects⁠—

His ward’s voice softened. “But I am young, and I have much to learn still. I would prefer not to form any serious attachments. Not yet.”

A flicker of something unfamiliar came to light in his chest, a warmth that was equal parts relief and pride. Daphne was not reckless. Nor was she naïve. She was a thoughtful, capable young woman. How could she be anything else, with Felicity as her guide?

Perhaps it was time he started seeing her as she was, and not what he imagined her to be.

Daphne stepped lightly along the bustling pavement until they stood in front of his carriage. Edward, having finally shaken the worst of his guilt over doubting her, allowed himself to relax. Just slightly.

The conversation about Montague had been unexpected, to be sure; but what had struck him most was Daphne’s self-awareness, with her admission that she wasn’t ready for a serious attachment. That she had time. She was not rushing toward some reckless decision.

It unsettled him in a way he hadn’t expected.

“Perhaps we need not return home yet.” Daphne, with a curious little smile, glanced sideways at him. “I have been thinking,” she said, her voice carefully light as her words trailed away.

Edward arched a brow. “A most dangerous pastime.”

She giggled, nudging him with her elbow. “You sound like Aunt Felicity.”

He pressed his lips together and cleared his throat even as his ears warmed. He hoped they hadn’t turned pink.

Daphne did not seem to notice his reaction. Instead, she pressed on. “I only mean that you and I speak often about my future.”

Edward made a low sound of agreement. “That is my purpose, as your guardian. To think on your future.”

“Yes, but…” His ward tilted her head slightly. “But we never speak about Aunt Felicity’s.”

Edward’s brows drew together. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” The young woman hesitated, perhaps choosing her words with care. “Well. What will she do when I marry?”

Edward exhaled slowly. This again. “That is not something for you to worry over, Daphne. Nor is it my business.” He handed the books to the coachman, who had opened the door for them, though he had the feeling they were not going home, though. “Your aunt is not without options,” Edward said carefully. “She has an adequate inheritance. She may choose to establish a home of her own, or travel, or⁠—”

Daphne huffed, cutting off his weak listing of ideas. “You make it sound so simple.”

Edward shrugged, though some of his frustration had returned. Not at the girl, of course. “Is it not?”

“No,” she said, exasperated. “Aunt Felicity has been looking after me nearly my entire life. And if I do not need her anymore…” She trailed off, but the meaning was clear.

Edward let out a slow breath. This was more than simple concern; this was guilt. Daphne felt responsible for Felicity’s happiness.

Well, he could not blame her. He had felt responsible for others before and burdened himself with their well-being even when it was not truly his duty. But he would not let Daphne bear that same weight. She was so young; let her stay young, while she could.

“She will always have a place at Briarwood,” he said evenly.

Daphne stole a glance at him, her expression thoughtful. “That is kind of you to say,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. “But it would not be appropriate for her to stay, or even visit, without me present. Would it?”

Edward considered. “No. I suppose not.” They already skirted the bounds of true propriety with the living arrangement they maintained. Had Felicity been widowed or considerably older, less pretty, Society would have nothing to say on the matter.

Because Society was run by hypocrites.