Page 7 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love

Well, he had to make a start. “Perhaps we might use this time to come to know each other better,” he ventured.

“A thoughtful suggestion,” Miss Price said, tone neutral, her gaze on the hearth instead of him.

He felt well and truly dismissed. In his own home. Edward curled his fingers around the armrest of the chair. “I trust your accommodations are satisfactory?” A host ought to ask such a thing, surely.

Miss Price glanced at her niece, then examined him when the younger woman made no answer. “My room is tolerable.” She tilted her chin up somewhat. “Daphne’s, however, has some rather unexpected furnishings which are not quite appropriate for one of her age and station.”

The girl did not so much as twitch, as though she had not even heard her aunt speak, or did not care.

He settled his gaze on Miss Price, his jaw tightening as he prepared to admit the error he made. “I was given the impression that Miss Daphne was much younger.” The girl shifted as he said her name, and he caught a slight wince. What a fool he was, attempting to defend himself. “I apologize, Miss Daphne. I will have the things you do not like removed at once, and we will replace them with anything you wish. I know you have trunks from home, too. You must feel free to decorate the room—your room, to your own tastes.”

Daphne met his gaze for the first time since entering the room, a brief flicker of curiosity in her eyes, before the girl nodded. “Thank you, Colonel Halstead.”

That was something. The aunt hadn’t expressed gratitude for much since her arrival.

Edward gave Daphne an encouraging smile. “Do you enjoy music?”

Her eyebrows raised. “I do. Very much. Have you a music room?”

Why had he asked that question? Now he had to admit, “No. No, I do not have a music room. But—” he added quickly, when the young woman glanced toward her aunt, “—I will send for anything you like, first thing in the morning. Being so near London has its advantages. We can obtain nearly anything in no more than a week’s time. Would you like a pianoforte? A harp? A violin?”

“Ladies do not play the violin before others,” the aunt said, her voice soft velvet covering steel. “But the other things…” She looked at her niece. “Yes?”

Daphne nodded slowly. “If…if it is not too much trouble. I did bring my favorite musical arrangements.”

“It is not too much trouble, not in the least. I will arrange for it tomorrow,” he said quickly, a sense of relief making him exhale with a smile.

That relief was short lived.

The aunt’s gaze had narrowed. “And what else will you be arranging for her, sir?”

Why did she sound so suspicious of him? Hadn’t he just offered her niece a kindness—an expensive kindness, to boot? It made him hesitate a moment. “I will see to whatever is necessary.”

“Really?” Miss Price lifted her chin. “Necessary for whom? You, or Daphne?”

He blinked, opened his mouth to answer—when the door opened.

The butler came inside. “Dinner is served, Colonel Halstead.”

Edward rose. He ought to take Miss Price’s arm to guide her in, but he wondered if she would allow for such a thing. He approached as cautiously as he would a cobra, then held out his elbow for her to take. She looked at his arm, a small wrinkle appearing at the bridge of her nose, before she gingerly took it. He led her through the door, across the corridor, and into the dining room. Daphne followed behind them, silent, pale, and graceful as a ghost.

Things were not going as well as he hoped.

After they were settled around the dining table, which was meant to hold at least a dozen people, Edward found himself devoid of anything to say or ask. There he sat, at the head of the table, and there they were, on either side, in the middle. Halfway down from him. Across from each other. Quietly eating.

The silver gleamed in the candlelight. The sounds of forks and knives softly scraping the plates barely broke the silence.

Finally, Edward cleared his throat, then immediately took a drink of his wine when Miss Price’s gaze snapped to his, brow furrowed with disapproval. Putting his glass down again, he addressed her directly. “Miss Price, have you spent much time in London?”

Her expression remained unreadable. “A fair amount.”

With a smile, he tried to lighten the moment. “Then perhaps you will find Briarwood rather too quiet by comparison.”

She reached for her own wine glass. “It is quiet. And rather…sparse.”

Rather what? He tilted his head to the side. “Sparse? In what way?” His house wasn’t enormous, but it was a respectable size for a gentleman of his means. It suited him, quiet as it was. What complaint could be levelled at it?

“It feels rather empty. Cavernous.” The aunt shuddered before taking a small sip of her wine. “It concerns me, given that a house is often a reflection of its master. Are you a miser, I wonder, or merely frugal? I wonder if you will think to provide the things that Daphne needs to be comfortable, let alone happy. How will she prepare for her formal entrance into Society in such an unwelcoming place?”