Page 117

Avoiding the crowds at the entrance, Tobias slipped down to the lower floor, where the employees of the club bustled here and there. He had to sidestep someone more than once and apologized profusely. He’d thought this would be an easier entry and was clearly wrong.

When he finally reached the stairs, he hurried up to the ground floor only to find that he couldn’t really get into the house. So he went up one more and emerged on the first floor of the gentleman’s side.

Low voices and the sound of glass hitting glass emerged from the Star Chamber—what he and the others on the membership committee now called the room after hearing the nickname—where the membership committee met to discuss invitations and other issues.

Tobias veered from his course of finding Fiona and poked his head into the room.

Just Lucien and Wexford sat inside drinking.

“Why are you hiding up here?” Tobias asked with a smile.

“We aren’t hiding. We’re fortifying.” Wexford set down his glass and leapt up from the chair. “What can I pour you?”

Tobias stepped inside. “Nothing. I’m eager to get downstairs.”

Lucien arched a brow. “Eager? Miss Goodfellow will be there this evening. Dare I assume she’s the source of your anticipation?”

“She must be the reason,” Wexford said after downing a gulp of his Irish whisky. “Deane is nearly out of time. Less than ten days, is it?”

Tobias dropped his chin in a single nod. “Yes, but it’s not going to happen—the marriage, I mean. Not before then anyway.”

Both men stared at Tobias.

Wexford’s brows drove down as he narrowed his eyes. “You’re giving up?”

“Not at all. I still plan to wed.” He inhaled and corrected himself. “I hope to wed.” He could not assume Fiona would accept him. She’d already said no once.

“What about Horethorne?” Lucien asked the question softly, almost reverently. He knew how much the place meant to Tobias.

“It will be well taken care of by its new owner.” He felt such joy when he thought of her having a place she could permanently call home for the first time.

Lucien didn’t look convinced. “How do you know?”

“Because in the event that I fail to wed by the dictated date, which I will, my father has given it to Fiona, rather, Miss Wingate.”

Nostrils flaring slightly, Lucien pinned him with a knowing stare. “Who is it you hope to marry? I do not think it is Miss Goodfellow.”

Lucien had always been too bloody astute, not that Tobias felt a need to keep his plan secret, at least not from them. “It is not. I hope that Miss Wingate will become my countess.”

Wexford let out a chortle. “Oh, well played!”

Tobias turned his attention to the laughing Wexford, as did Lucien. “This is not a game.”

“Deane’s not hoping to marry her to gain his mother’s house. He’s in love with his ward,” Lucien clarified.

Wexford’s laughter died immediately. He gaped at Tobias a moment and then leaned forward, his elbow on the table. “So you did have a tendre for her?” He grinned. “Spectacular.”

Setting his empty glass down, Lucien stood. “Come, let us go find your countess-to-be.”

“You assume she’ll say yes,” Tobias said, suddenly more nervous than he’d been all day. No, more nervous than he’d been in two years. The memory of learning that Priscilla had chosen someone other than him rose sharp in his mind.

“There’s a chance she won’t?” Wexford also stood, finishing his whisky as he rose and depositing the empty tumbler on the table.

“She may have already refused me.”

Wexford winced, and Lucien moved to clap Tobias on the shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear that,” Lucien said. “Why did she say no?”

“Probably because she’d just learned that she’s to inherit Horethorne if I don’t marry.”

Lucien nodded, his eyes alight with understanding. “Like Wexford, she assumed you wanted to wed her to obtain the estate.”

“Can you blame her?” Wexford asked.

“Not at all. In fact, if I’m honest with myself, that was part of the reason I asked. That, and we were half-naked at the time.”

Wexford shook his head. “Christ, Deane, you’re supposed to have rehabilitated your behavior. Have you no shame?”

Lucien took his hand from Tobias’s shoulder and turned his head toward Wexford. “Leave him be.” He returned his attention to Tobias. “What is your plan?”

“I don’t really have one. She just rejected me last night. I can’t imagine she’ll change her mind today.”

“Have you mentioned the love part?” Wexford asked. “I suspect that might help your cause.”

“No, but what if it doesn’t?” Tobias hoped they shared something beyond the physical attraction that had bloomed between them.

They were friends, perhaps even confidantes.

But more than that? He didn’t know. And given that he’d completely misread his relationship with Priscilla, he didn’t entirely trust himself to get this right.

“There is only one way to find out.” Lucien regarded him with determination. “Just vow to us you won’t devolve into an even bigger degenerate if she refuses you again.”

Tobias couldn’t promise that at all.

At the midpoint of the main staircase, there was a landing with a doorway that led to another staircase, which in turn led to a gallery that ran along one side of the men’s ballroom. Emerging onto the gallery with Lucien and Wexford, Tobias had a bird’s eye view of the ballroom below.

“What is she wearing?” Wexford asked, peering down into the throng.

“Purple, I think? At least that was her plan a couple of days ago.” Tobias looked until he had to blink to regain some moisture in his eyes.

“Let’s move to the ladies’ side,” Wexford suggested before moving along the gallery and opening a door to an identical gallery that overlooked the other side of the ballroom.

“Over there?” Lucien pointed to the opposite side of the ballroom near the doors that led out to the garden.

Yes, that was her. Even from this distance, she was unmistakable, and not because of the purple of her gown. It was the vivid red of her hair, the graceful slope of her neck and shoulders, the poise with which she held herself—a solitary, gleaming pearl amidst a stretch of unremarkable sand.

“Is that Lord Gregory with her?” Wexford scowled.

Tobias tensed. “Yes.” They stood rather close to one another, and she was smiling up at him.

“You need to get down there.” Lucien started toward the other door that would take them to the ladies’ staircase, and Wexford followed.

Only Tobias couldn’t move. His feet were rooted to the floor and his gaze was fixed on Fiona. And Lord Gregory.

A moment later, he felt a tug on his sleeve. “Come on.”

Tobias didn’t look at Wexford. He couldn’t tear his eyes from Fiona as she laughed at something Lord Gregory said. Tobias’s body went completely rigid as Fiona touched Lord Gregory’s arm.

He finally turned away. “I can’t do it. Yes, I’m a pathetic coward. I had my heart broken once before, and since Fiona has already rejected me, I should expect failure again.”

Lucien scoffed. “Priscilla didn’t break your heart. You said so yourself at the time.”

“Well, it bloody well felt like it. I was humiliated.” Not because she’d chosen someone else over him and everyone knew it, but because he should have known better.

He should have realized there was nothing really between them, that Priscilla had only taken their courtship as seriously as her father told her to.

And once someone with a higher rank came forward, that was not at all.

What if Tobias had this wrong too? What if the things he imagined Fiona felt for him were only in his mind? “This is different,” he whispered, staring at the painting hanging on the wall opposite but not seeing any of its detail. “I don’t think I can survive a rejection from Fiona.”

“Christ, you’re being melodramatic.” Lucien gave him a gentle shove. “You’d rather let Lord Gregory do his worst and not even try?”

“Come on, Deane, if you love her, she’s worth the risk. And the pain, if it comes to that.” Wexford thumped him on the back. “I wager it’ll hurt even worse if you don’t fight for her.”

They were right. They were more than right.

This was nothing like Priscilla because Fiona was, well, Fiona.

He knew precisely who she was, and more importantly, she did too.

She wasn’t some social-climbing miss looking for the best marriage.

In fact, she’d declared her intent not to do that.

She was utterly unique, and he loved her unequivocally.

“So much for my attempts to stop being an ass,” he muttered. He started toward the door that led to the stairs. “Do either of you have any idea what set they’re on?”

Lucien consulted his watch fob. “If they are on schedule, they are likely in the second.”

Tobias practically ran down the stairs, which were thankfully not crowded. The hall below was, however, and getting into the ballroom took longer than he’d hoped. By the time he stepped inside, he feared the set would be drawing to a close.

Hurrying between people and ignoring those who tried to speak with him, he arrived at Fiona’s side, breathless, just as the music stopped. “Miss Wingate, it’s time for our dance.”

Fiona stared at him, clearly confused. And why wouldn’t she be? They’d made no plans for dancing or anything else.

“She’s already agreed to partner me,” Lord Gregory said affably.

Angling his head, Tobias smiled at Fiona. “Did you forget?” He narrowed his eyes slightly and tried to silently plead with her to agree.

“You can dance with Lord Gregory later,” Miss Lancaster put in from just behind Fiona, proving that her eavesdropping skills were quite advanced. “There’s another waltz.”

Fiona turned to Lord Gregory with an apologetic smile. “I hope you don’t mind delaying our dance. I seem to have forgotten that I promised this one to my guardian.”

Tobias flinched inwardly, wishing she hadn’t called him that. He didn’t need any further reminders that he should not be doing what he was about to do.

“Of course, I don’t mind. Now I have something splendid to look forward to.” Lord Gregory stepped to the side.

Fiona took Tobias’s arm. As they walked toward the dance floor, she looked at him askance, her expression dubious. “Did your grandmother put you up to this?”