Page 51 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love

Felicity’s smile was forced and brittle, but her composure was steady, despite the tension between them. “And I will not have you imply that I do not have her best interests at heart.”

The silence between them crackled like the air before a lightning strike. His shoulders remained rigid, his breath controlled, but the sharp gleam of disappointment in her eyes unsettled him in ways he did not wish to name.

The music swelled behind them as the orchestra began anew. A waltz.

For a fleeting moment, Edward wondered if she regretted refusing him. His eyes stayed on hers, trying to read her. She would not dance with him, would not allow herself to be seen with him in any way that would spark gossip. And yet this moment between them, thick with unspoken words and frustration, felt far more intimate than any dance could have been.

Felicity broke the stare as she inclined her head in a graceful, measured way. “If you will excuse me, Colonel.”

He had no choice but to incline his own head in return. “Miss Price.”

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving him to grapple with the bitter taste of frustration and something else.

Something that felt dangerously like regret.

Chapter Sixteen

Felicity hadn’t meant to watch for him. Yet here she was, standing at the music room window, eyes on the path she knew Colonel Halstead took to return to the stables. It simply happened that way.

The morning sun warmed the music room, where Daphne’s fingers flitted with ease over the keys of the pianoforte. Then the melody faltered, slowed, and resumed at the correct speed. Her efforts were earnest but unpolished.

“You are doing well, darling. Try again,” Felicity said, somewhat absently, her attention drawn beyond the window’s glass. Then she saw him.

Edward rode along a path tucked behind tall hedges, his dark coat fitted close to his frame. He guided his towering bay gelding with a precision she could not help admiring. She had seen him ride before, he was an elegant horseman, utterly at ease in the saddle; but something about the sight of him unnerved her this morning. Perhaps because, for the first time, she realized how much effort he put into that measure of control.

Felicity had spent half the night trying to resent him, nursing the sharp sting of his quiet rebuke. She wanted to be angry with him, offended—insulted. Anything that would make her feel unlikely to forgive him for his slight against her abilities.

Now, in the daylight, watching him move so naturally on horseback, she had to admit another truth entirely.

He had been worried. More so, he had been genuinely afraid for Daphne’s well-being.

That did not excuse his words, to be sure, but it made her understand them. Still more, it made her compassion for him overcome her own frustrations. Which was, in itself, frustrating.

“Daphne,” Felicity said as she pulled her deep gray shawl tight around her shoulders. “I need to step out. Keep practicing until I return.” She walked at quite a normal speed to the door, which was very much on purpose.

“Yes, Aunt Felicity.” Daphne did not sound enthusiastic, but she would do as asked. She always did. She was an obedient and responsible girl.

Once the music room door clicked shut, Felicity lifted her skirts and walked at a brisk pace through the house. In all honesty, one could call her movement a run if one was not feeling charitable.

Making her way outdoors, she increased her speed to gain the stables quickly. After all, Felicity knew an opportunity when she saw one. Everyone in the household knew that Edward preferred to care for his horse himself. The servants thought it an odd habit left over from the war, but Felicity suspected it was something he did to soothe himself as much as to care for the beast he rode.

She preferred to stroke a cat purring in her lap, but why wouldn’t an enormous man derive the same satisfaction from brushing an enormous animal?

Entering the stables, Felicity placed her hand over her chest, slowing her breathing as her eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness of the building. The scent of fresh hay and saddle leather filled her senses and had a subtle calming effect. Adjusting her shoulders, she strode inside with her head held high, making her way to Voltaire’s stall.

Yes, the Colonel had named his battle steed after a French philosopher. When she had initially heard the name, she had giggled, but the housekeeper, Mrs. Lane, had warned her that Edward was fond of quoting the Frenchman every time he was brought up. Felicity kept her lips pressed together rather than ask questions. Men quoting philosophers rarely entertained anyone.

Now, as she approached, she wondered what about the philosopher Edward had admired.

But she was not here to hear him quote anyone, or to placate him. They needed to talk.

Felicity halted outside of Voltaire’s stall, peering over the high wall. Edward stood inside, his back to her, one hand brushing the gelding’s neck in slow, methodical strokes. The animal stood patiently beneath his touch, shifting only to snort softly when he caught sight of Felicity.

She hesitated a moment, admiring the breadth of Edward’s shoulders as he worked. The careful way that he moved. He had to have sensed her there, surely. “Colonel.”

“Miss Price.” He did not turn as he addressed her. “Are we on formal terms again?” His voice was calm. Level.

“We needn’t be.” It was infuriating, how easily he contained himself while she had spent the last several hours simmering with emotion. Still, she kept her voice measured. “Edward, I believe we need to have a conversation.”