Page 24 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love

“The theater is a perfect place to begin, both to see and be seen.” Felicity folded her gloved hands in her lap. “An excellent preparation for attending your first ball.”

That would be the moment in which Daphne truly stepped into Society; the moment when she could do more than visit museums and theaters, more than attend private events. She could go to balls. Receive offers of courtship. Perhaps even a voucher to Almack’s, if Halstead came through.

The man had spent a great deal of time in London of late, even spending nights at his club. He kept Felicity and the staff apprised of his comings and goings, should they have need for him, but he had barely been at Briarwood…which had been something of an unexpected frustration for Felicity.

He ought to spend more time with Daphne—or at least spend more time concerning himself with Daphne’s future.

“Are you certain the color of the gown is all right?” Daphne stood looking into a small oval mirror over the writing desk in the corner. “I know I am still in mourning…”

“It is a suitable color for a young lady, and your father would not wish you to wear grays or blacks one moment longer than you must.” Felicity smiled slightly. “It is perfectly appropriate.”

Besides, she herself wore enough drab gray for both of them. She had on a plain evening dress, modestly cut, in a fabric that would not so much as shimmer in gaslight. Her reticule, shawl, and fan were all black, too. No one would fault Daphne, young and on the verge of courtship, for dressing to attract the eye of suitable gentlemen…and no one would notice her aunt as more than a shadow to chaperone her.

Felicity rose and joined Daphne at the looking glass, standing behind her. She placed her hands on Daphne’s shoulders. “You are ready for this, Daffodil. You needn’t be nervous.”

For a moment, Felicity remembered when she had been the one standing on the brink of womanhood; when she had looked in the looking glass as her mother fussed over her gown and told her the same things. All would be well. That she would find her way.

But in Felicity’s case, it had all been lies.

She shook the bitter thought away and focused again on her niece.

The time spent preparing Daphne for her introduction to Society had passed far too quickly for Felicity. Not that Daphne needed an excess of time to prepare, of course. The girl had been raised from birth to know how to conduct herself properly, her father had seen to her education, and she had a kind and honest character. The practical matters however had caused concern, especially when the seamstress had fallen behind in her work, the dancing instructor had caught a cold, and the Lady Louisa’s friendship came with her mother’s judgmental conversation.

“You look elegant,” she assured her niece. “Perfectly suited to an evening at the theater. You will look neither ostentatious nor underdressed.”

“Lady Louisa will wear blue,” Daphne murmured, worry creeping into her tone. “Jewel tones, she said.”

Felicity arched a brow. Jewel tones, indeed. “Lady Louisa is making her full debut this Season—and she is the daughter of an earl. You, my dear, are not yet meant to dazzle, only to be observed. Tonight, you must be seen as a young lady of good sense, modest elegance, and excellent manners. Your time to stand out will come.”

“Yes. Of course.” Daphne nodded slowly. “It is, after all, only the theater,” she tried to say breezily, but a tremble in her voice betrayed her nerves.

Felicity smoothed a stray curl behind her niece’s ear, giving her a knowing look. “Yes, but it is the first time you will be seated in a place where half of London might turn their gaze upon you. Afterward, the card party will be filled with people who will speak of you to their friends, their sisters, and their sons. How they speak of you depends on your comportment this evening.”

“You are not making this easier,” Daphne said with a breathless laugh.

“I am preparing you,” Felicity corrected fondly. “Which is the best thing I can do for you.”

The door to their parlor opened, interrupting the conversation as both women turned to see Halstead enter. He was dressed for the evening in a sharp black coat, deep green waistcoat, and a perfectly tied, snowy white cravat.

It was the first time Felicity had seen him dressed formally. As he met her gaze, she felt her chest tighten and her cheeks warm. Colonel Edward Halstead looked the very image of masculine dignity, and she found she could not think of a man she had ever found more handsome than him.

What an absurd thought. Handsome men were not for women like her.

Not anymore.

His gaze left hers to take in Daphne, and he smiled with approval. “Daphne, you look wonderful. That color suits you.”

“Thank you, Colonel.” Daphne flushed with pleasure and dipped into a curtsy.

Felicity took a moment to observe Halstead, taking in his appearance again, noting the slight furrow in his brow. Was he nervous, too? Or perhaps merely uncomfortable with going out? He wasn’t much in Society, he had told her, though he’d spend near enough every waking moment at that club of his—and he’d promised to make an effort for Daphne’s sake.

“Are you ready for the evening?” he asked Daphne politely.

“I believe so.” Daphne sent one last look toward Felicity, still seeking reassurance.

Felicity took her niece’s gloved hand in her own, giving it a light squeeze. “Mind your posture, keep your voice pleasant, and let your natural charm do the rest.”

Daphne exhaled, squared her shoulders, and smiled. “Yes, Aunt Felicity.”