Page 38 of A Bachelor’s Lessons in Love

“Indeed. One of us should always be with her.”

He was to be as stubborn as ever on that point, drat him.

Felicity put the invitations on the desk and pushed them toward him. “Very well. Here are the invitations. Do let me know which you find acceptable. Perhaps you would also like to choose which gowns she wears, and what jewelry adorns her? To ensure that her clothing does not offend your sensibilities. Perhaps letting her decide between ivory and lilac is granting the girl too much freedom.”

His brows drew together in a most disapproving frown. “Miss Price⁠—”

“Then there is the matter of her hair. We will consult you about which ribbons and pins to employ.”

“Miss Price, I⁠—”

“Then there is the matter of fans. Lace? Paper? Silk?” She raised her voice, continuing despite the childishness of it. After all, he’d started it. “Then there is the matter of which books⁠—”

“Felicity!” he barked sternly.

Her lips parted in surprise as the rest of her words fled.

He had used her given name.

“I know what you are doing,” Halstead said, tone still stern yet he did not sound angry. “You think I have made a ridiculous request, so you mean to make it more so by adding one thing after another—I am not a fool. I can see we will not agree on how best to chaperone Daphne. My ward, your niece. But I trust you to see to the rest, Felicity. I trust that you know best how your niece presents herself, and how she navigates the world, and who she spends her time with. Why does this one instance of our disagreement cause you such distress? Why can you not bend to my reasonable request?”

Felicity’s stuffy and muddled head made it all too easy to grow petulant, but she retained enough of her sensibilities to recognize that as an unwise course of action. Instead, she studied him, and closely. “Will you truly listen to my explanation this time? Without interruptions, Edward?”

Well, he used her Christian name. She might as well use his.

As it passed her lips for the first time aloud, Felicity felt herself relaxing. To address him thus made things feel less tilted in his favor.

He was just a man. Not a Colonel. Not above her. They were both simply people who were joined unwillingly by the circumstance of caring for the same young woman.

He sighed and ran his hand over his face before cupping his chin in his hand. “Contrary to what you may think, Felicity Price, I value your opinion.”

His words made her pause, collecting her thoughts as she would a scattered deck of cards as she prepared to address his question. “Edward,” she said, her voice calm, “my resistance to your request is not borne of a mere desire for disagreement. I am not rebellious by nature.” She straightened, meeting his gaze directly. “It is about the manner in which we prepare Daphne for her future role in society. She is no longer a child, and after she marries she will need to navigate the complexities of social engagements on her own.” Felicity’s hands rested lightly on the stack of invitations. “If we shadow her at every event, scrutinizing each interaction, forbidding her from making slight faux pas which will surely be forgotten, are we not at risk of undermining her ability to discern and decide for herself? Such constant oversight might suggest to her that she is incapable of any independent judgment or action—or imply to others we do not believe her competent in that regard.”

His eyebrows raised, but he kept his word and said nothing, giving Felicity encouragement to continue with a softer tone. “You have led men in battle, sir, where obedience and vigilance are essential. I would not question you on the battlefield of war—but on this particular battlefield, I do. Daphne’s challenges, though less perilous, will require no less courage and the ability to trust her own decisions. Is it not our responsibility to prepare her to meet these challenges with confidence?”

Edward’s features remained neutral, watching her intently, giving her no idea how he received her careful reasoning.

Felicity continued in earnest. Well, in for a penny… “I value your guardianship, Edward, and your protectiveness towards Daphne. Truly, I did not expect you to concern yourself so much with her. But we must also trust her to grow, to learn from her own experiences. To make minor mistakes now, when we are at hand to help right them.” She sat back, folding her hands in her lap.

Had she said too much—or not enough?

Felicity watched the Colonel closely as he seemed to weigh his words, he winced as though pained when he looked down at the surface of his desk. At the myriad of invitations. “Miss Price…Captain. Felicity. I understand your desire to see Daphne flourish under less stringent supervision.” He paused, lifting his head but looking past Felicity as though seeing into his own distant memories. “I must confess, my insistence on vigilance is not solely the product of an overprotective old soldier.” His gaze returned to hers, filled with a seriousness bordering on sorrow. “When I was younger—much younger—I learned a hard lesson about the consequences of youthful mistakes. My whole life, and the lives of others, shifted paths because of my mistake.” Edward shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the creases in his brow deepening. “There were repercussions which followed me long after, repercussions from a moment of folly easily avoided with more prudent guardianship.” His voice was low, almost hesitant.

An unexpected pulse of compassion went through Felicity as she felt the pain behind his words. Something awful had happened, then.

When he continued, it was with a voice of compassion. “All I wish is to spare Daphne from such potential pitfalls, to ensure her safety and well-being.”

“We cannot protect her from everything,” Felicity murmured. “Even if we wished to do so—and your mistakes will not be hers, Edward. Surely.” She hesitated a moment, then said quietly, “It seems to me that you are still carrying the weight of your past mistake with you. They must be grave indeed to remain prevalent so many years later.”

He sat back. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Indeed. But such is none of your concern. Some things are not meant to be spoken of, Miss Price.”

She raised her eyebrows. So, she was Miss Price again? She tilted her head to the side, studying him. “And yet some things weigh heavier when carried alone, Edward.”

* * *

Edward pulled in a startled breath. Her words settled over him, a warm compress on an old, aching wound. Surely, she was not asking him to speak of his past? She could not be offering such a thing. They barely knew one another. And yet…

“I cannot deny the truth of your statement.” Edward watched her, noted her still pale countenance from her illness and its contrast with the stubborn tilt of her chin. Her eyes, dark and intelligent, remained leveled on him. Waiting. “It is not your burden to bear, Captain. Felicity.” It was so easy to say her name, to let it leave his tongue, and he wanted to examine why. He had only called one other woman unrelated to him by her given name.