Page 17 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love

And there it was.

The moment of recognition, followed almost immediately by dismissal. A flicker of politeness, but no real interest. Felicity had seen it many times before. She was a genteel spinster, and in the world of the ton, that made her invisible.

Once, long ago, she might have harbored hope that a woman of standing would see her as something more than a chaperone. A friend. An equal. But unmarried women of a certain age were ornaments of naught but practicality, noticed as far as they were useful and then summarily ignored. She had learned to carry that invisibility like a shawl, worn tightly and without complaint.

Daphne, however, was young, fresh, and eligible, untainted by the world’s critique or censor. That made her worth attention.

The woman turned slightly, addressing the clerk in a voice that was pleasant but carried quiet authority. “I came to see if the sample for my daughter’s stationery is ready, Mr. Keller.”

The clerk bowed immediately. “Of course, Lady Kendal. I will have it brought at once.”

Lady Kendal. A widow, two daughters, one of them just older than Daphne’s age, the other a little older, from Felicity’s memory. She had met the woman when she had come out, ten years before. The countess hadn’t been impressed with her then and would not be impressed with her now. But it was not her own reputation she wished to impress.

Lady Kendal turned her piercing gaze back toward them. “Miss Price. It has been a long time. I do not believe I know your young companion,” she said smoothly.

Felicity resisted the urge to stiffen, not from nerves, but from years of ingrained experience. She already knew what was coming.

“Lady Kendal,” she said evenly. “May I present my niece, Miss Daphne Price?”

Daphne, to her credit, curtsied immediately and gracefully. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

Lady Kendal’s lips curved slightly, and though it was not quite a smile, it was close enough to pass for one. “Another Miss Price,” she said, giving her a slow nod of acknowledgment. Only then did she return her attention fleetingly to Felicity.

“And you are her chaperone rather than her sponsor this Season, Miss Price?”

The words were delivered lightly, but with an air of certainty. Felicity’s cheeks burned. She was still a miss: she hadn’t corrected the countess with a husband’s name, and she wore the drab, modest clothes of a matron in mourning.

But she smiled, smooth as ever. “For now, yes. Her guardian, Colonel Halstead, supports that decision.”

Lady Kendal expression flickered with surprise, followed by a moment’s recalculation. “Ah. Colonel Halstead. I am somewhat familiar with that name. A gentleman soldier, is he not? Well, well. I had not heard he had a young lady under his care.”

“It is a new development,” Felicity said, tone even. “The death of my brother was unexpected. We are both grateful for Colonel Halstead’s willingness to take his duty seriously.”

The Countess returned her gaze to Daphne. “When will you be out of mourning, child?”

“My guardian and aunt believe it will be appropriate to attend events the first week of March,” she answered demurely, after a quick glance at her aunt. “Though I will keep some reminder of my father on my person for a long time to come.” She touched the necklace she wore, a simple pendant on a black ribbon.

“There are no strict rules of how long one ought to wear black, of course,” the countess said, glancing at Felicity’s all black attire. “Let there be no doubt that you loved your father, my dear, and most will understand.”

“That is wise counsel, Lady Kendal.” Daphne kept her eyes lowered, and Felicity could not help feeling proud of her.

Yes, there were those who would comment about Daphne’s abbreviated time in black, but there were no true rules written about when one could cast off mourning without someone thinking it too soon. Besides, Daphne’s father would not want her to waste away in shadow when she was so young and full of life.

“Hmmm. And is this your first time to visit London?”

“Yes, Lady Kendal.” The young lady braved her own question, and Felicity tried not to smile in quiet pride. “Are you often in Town?”

The lady nodded stiffly. “Yes. It is my primary place of residence. My youngest daughter, Lady Louisa, is only a year older than you, I believe. She will make her debut in court this Season.”

Daphne lit up, genuine pleasure in her smile. “How lovely for her.”

Lady Kendal’s gaze assessed her in a way that Felicity recognized too well; appraising, weighing pedigree, manners, and potential connections. Then she smiled slightly, a hint of satisfaction in the curve of her lips. “It would be well for young ladies of similar age and experience to become acquainted before the Season begins properly,” she said smoothly. “I shall mention you to Louisa and see if we might arrange a time to meet.”

Daphne looked to Felicity, eyes shining, as if seeking permission.

Felicity, despite the sting of being so thoroughly dismissed, gave her niece a nod of approval. It was down to her niece, now, to start forming these connections.

“That is most generous, my lady,” Daphne said pleasantly.