Page 75 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love

Chapter Twenty-Three

MAY 12, 1817

The country air was fresh with the scent of earth and high springtime, the sky a clear, uninterrupted blue as Colonel and Mrs. Halstead stood beside a stone wall, staring up at an ivy-covered church. They had arrived at the village the evening before, after a long day of travel. The innkeeper’s wife had answered all their questions about the church, which had stood for two centuries—and she was equally happy to tell them about the vicar and his wonderful family.

“Best minister we’ve e’er had,” she said with a firm nod. “He’s a kindly one. Not all doom and gloom and going on about our sins. He’s more the encouraging sort—wants us to love our neighbors, treat people well. I always leave the Sunday meeting feeling like the world is a good place after all.”

Edward had listened to every word with gratitude. He’d imagined both the best and worst scenarios as they’d traveled ever closer to this place. What if the vicar thought the sins of the father were on the head of the son? What if he had treated James poorly because of his origins?

He wouldn’t feel at ease until he knew for certain how his son was treated, how he had been raised. The letter from the investigator had been too brief, too spare with details. Edward had to see it all for himself.

Thankfully, his newlywed wife understood his worries. Felicity had soothed and supported him at every turn. Even now, as they walked down the lane from the small church to the vicarage, she kept her arm pressed tightly to his and pointed out the beauty around them.

“How green and glorious it is,” she said genially. “Wildflowers everywhere we look, well-tended fields, too. All the buildings in the village look as though they are well loved and kept up. This is a good community, Edward—what a wonderful place to grow up.”

“Yes. It appears to be.” He tried, and failed, to relax his shoulders again.

Their honeymoon had been quiet; peaceful and private. Exactly as Edward had hoped. They had spent mornings in companionable ease, afternoons exploring the countryside, and evenings wrapped in the warmth of their shared life, all while Daphne stayed with the Normans under their protection. Everything had been perfect.

And yet, today, there was a weight in his chest. Today, with Daphne traveling with them but politely declining their invitation for a walk, they were stepping toward the vicarage where his son lived.

Felicity’s hand curled around his arm, her steady presence grounding him. “Everything will be all right, Edward. And if it is not, we will make it so.”

He nodded again and spoke without much thought. “I know.”

“Do you?” she asked, a note of challenge in her voice.

He looked down into her eyes, finding that familiar stubborn light in them. He stopped walking and drew in a deep breath. “I know that with you as my ally, there is nothing I cannot do. Thank you, my love.”

She searched his eyes for a long moment, then smiled. She stood on her toes and leaned upward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I love you—and you are worthy of being loved. Never forget that, Edward.”

“Never,” he promised. Before he could kiss her back or offer more romantic reassurance, they heard whistling ahead of them. Edward sighed at the intrusion as his wife grinned up at him. He took her arm again and kept walking.

Ahead, the lane curved slightly and the whistler appeared. He was a young man, approaching from the opposite direction. He was tall, nearly Edward’s height, with a build that suggested he was not one to sit in idleness. His hair was dark, but as the young man drew closer and his gaze met Edward’s, the eyes stopped Edward in his tracks.

Coppery-green. His own eyes.

The young man gave them a polite, easy smile. “Good afternoon,” he said with a nod and slight touch to the brim of his hat with respect.

Felicity stiffened beside Edward. Surely she had seen it too.

Edward cleared his throat. Speak, man! “Good afternoon, sir. It is fine country you have here.”

The young man stopped walking, tilting his head slightly. “I have certainly always liked it. Are you passing through, sir?”

Edward nodded. “We are. We just came from the church and I…We are looking for the vicarage.”

The young man’s face brightened. “That would be my father’s house.”

Felicity’s grip tightened slightly on Edward’s arm as his chest rattled, his heart pacing far beyond its usual rhythm.

He swallowed, nodding once. “Then you could guide us there?”

The young man smiled, and a dimple appeared. Pamela’s dimple. “Certainly. It is not far.” He bowed. “Introductions are in order, of course. I am James Thornton.”

“I am Colonel Edward Halstead, and this is my wife, Mrs. Halstead.” Every time he introduced her thusly, Edward’s heart swelled with pride and affection. And now? Now it was all the more potent.

His wife was meeting his son.