Page 35 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love

Mr. Montague noticed Edward first, straightening with an instinctual crispness, his good humor smoothing into polite neutrality. Miss Anna’s fan—half-lifted in the air—paused mid-motion before she delicately folded it shut. The other young gentleman, a fair-haired sort, cleared his throat and adjusted his gloves. Miss Norman cradled the bowling ball closer to her stomach.

Daphne, still smiling, hesitated before her expression adjusted.

Just slightly. Just enough that Edward saw it.

“Colonel Halstead,” Mr. Montague greeted him with a respectful nod. “I did not see you there, sir.”

“I thought to accompany Miss Price to watch the game,” Edward said evenly.

There was a beat of silence where no one said anything, but glanced at one another exchanging silent thoughts.

Miss Anna, the one who had seemingly taken charge of the game, recovered first. She turned to Daphne with an encouraging smile. “You do intend to play, of course?”

“Oh yes,” Daphne said quickly. “I have my honor to defend, you know. Mr. Montague’s poetry will besmirch me, otherwise.”

No one replied. The easy rhythm from before was gone, the teasing had died. There would be no poorly rhymed poetry, no genuine mirth, only careful politeness and sidelong glances at the guardian spectating from the sidelines.

Edward felt the shift viscerally in his gut.

And he suddenly, deeply, regretted it. He cleared his throat, stepped back a few paces, pretending to study a shrub of all things. What could he do? He could not leave, granting an opportunity for secret conversations or maneuverings by anyone present. He had a duty to watch over Daphne. No matter what.

Felicity Price would have a great deal to say on the matter if she heard about it, he had no doubt of that.

Edward took another step back, the damp grass pressing against the soles of his shoes. It could not be more clear that he did not belong here. Not in this moment, not with these young people, not even at a garden party where men of his standing escorted their daughters and sons to ensure they made friends with the correct set.

A soft laugh, somewhat forced and breathless, cut through the silence. Daphne, bless her, trying to recover what had been lost. “Goodness, we needn’t worry too much about the Colonel. He will hardly subject poor players to a court-martial.”

Stiff politeness already held them all in its grasp. Mr. Montague smiled, but it was mechanical, the ease gone. Miss Anna flicked open her fan again, filling the empty space with the soft rustling as she waved it. The other young gentleman reminded them of the rules of the game. Miss Norman asked politely who would go first.

Edward clasped his hands behind his back, watching, feeling keenly the change his presence had on the atmosphere.

The same as when a commanding officer appeared where the men tried to relax between assignments.

This is what Felicity meant.

She would not have stood there, looming like a headmaster waiting to bring order to unruly children. She would have laughed. Charmed them, perhaps, with some quick-witted remark to smooth over the awkwardness he had caused. She would have made herself belong, rather than standing stiffly at the edge, reminding them all of his presence by sheer force of it—and she most certainly would have taken him by the arm and none too gently steered him away, to leave the young people to their game.

But Felicity was not here. She was home, nursing her head cold in her bedchamber, and instead of sparring with him over breakfast, he had sat at the head of his too-long dining table, making stilted conversation with Daphne about the day’s forthcoming entertainment.

“—if you’d like, Colonel?”

Edward looked up sharply.

Mr. Montague stood near him, holding a lawn bowl in his palm, his expression nothing but polite. “Would you care to play?”

It was a kindness. An offering. A way to turn him into something other than a looming giant at the edge of the gathering.

Edward looked at the ball. Then at the expectant, if slightly wary, faces turned his way.

He should say no.

He did not.

Instead, he nodded. Anything to relieve the tension.

“If Miss Price does not mind my joining.”

Daphne’s eyes widened slightly. But then, bless the girl, she beamed. “Of course not, Colonel. Perhaps I shall best you instead—and I shall have to be the one to write an ode.”