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“Have you already married me off then?” The question carried an edge of disappointment but also of irritation that made Tobias frown.

“It is my duty, as your guardian, to see you wed. I take that responsibility very seriously and will see it done.” He tempered his tone lest she think him an autocrat. She simply needed to understand the way things were.

They’d reached the coach, and he helped her inside before climbing in after her. Rather than sit beside her on the forward-facing seat, he sat on the opposite side.

“All I am asking for is a little time to acclimate myself to this life. Two months ago, I could never have foreseen any of this. My goodness, I am meeting the queen in a few days.”

Hell. Now he felt that tinge of guilt again.

Exhaling, he stared out the window until they were driving along Oxford Street.

When he directed his attention toward Miss Wingate, he speared her with an expectant stare.

“I will allow you time to become used to this life; only remember that my father made a promise to your father. I will not force you to uphold it. If you are not ready to marry or don’t wish to, I will be happy to send you back to Bitterley. Just say the word.”

“Because there is no reason to have a Season unless I intend to wed,” she said softly, her dark eyes glittering in the filtered light of the coach.

“Correct.”

She shifted her gaze to the window and folded her hands in her lap. “Then I appreciate your kindness in allowing me to adjust. I’m sure I’ll find my way, and when I do, my…enthusiasm for marriage will rise to the surface.”

Satisfied with her response, even if it had been sprinkled with sarcasm, Tobias settled back against the squab. He needed to speak with Lady Pickering. Miss Wingate required more guidance than he’d imagined.

And in the end, perhaps he’d end up shipping her back to Bitterley.

She was not going back to Bitterley.

Neither did she wish to marry. At least not yet.

Fiona had thought of little beyond those things since her frustrating visit to the museum the day before with her guardian. Not all of it had been awful. The hours in the map room had been absolutely sublime. That part truly had been her favorite day ever.

Until Overton had ruined it by being a dictatorial wretch.

Perhaps he hadn’t been that bad, but he didn’t understand her desire to simply enjoy her newfound freedom. It was as if she were a butterfly finally free of her chrysalis, and he meant to clip her wings.

Fiona frowned at his back as they walked into Lord and Lady Billingsworth’s house on Park Street for tonight’s musicale. Prudence gently touched her arm, and Fiona brought her features into a more serene expression. Or at least one that didn’t demonstrate her displeasure with her guardian.

Poor Prudence had listened to her lament. She understood Fiona’s need to find her place before she committed to marriage, even while she explained Fiona’s duty to wed.

Once they were inside and had given over their outerwear, they were guided up the stairs to the drawing room. At the top of the stairs was a long gallery filled with people. Fiona immediately picked out Cassandra.

“My lord, if you don’t mind, I’m going to speak with Lady Cassandra,” she said, provoking Overton to turn.

His gaze surveyed the gallery until he found Cassandra. “I’ll accompany you as I’ve a mind to speak with Aldington.”

Fiona suppressed her disappointment. She’d hoped they could go their separate ways once they got there.

“Oh, Fiona!” Cassandra greeted her with a wide smile, and they clasped hands. “I’m so pleased to see you. What a fetching gown.” Her gaze swept over Fiona’s pale yellow dress.

“Thank you.” She looked a bit enviously at Cassandra’s vivid blue gown.

None of her dresses were that dark in color.

Lady Pickering had said she must wear light colors.

She had one purple gown that was her very favorite.

It wasn’t dark, but the color was lush and vibrant.

She was saving it for a special occasion, not that she knew what that was yet—perhaps her first ball at the Phoenix Club, for she was intent on going to one.

Which meant she had to find an alternate sponsor for it.

Cassandra linked her arm through Fiona’s. “Come, let us meander before the music begins.” She smiled toward Prudence. “Good evening, Miss Lancaster. I’m so pleased to see you again too.”

Prudence dipped a brief curtsey. “The feeling is mutual, Lady Cassandra.”

“Don’t be late for the performance,” Overton said from beside Aldington.

“We won’t,” Cassandra said jauntily, preventing Fiona from responding in irritation.

As they walked away, Fiona leaned close and whispered, “Thank you. I fear I would have said something obnoxious.”

“I saw the glint of annoyance in your eyes,” Cassandra said. “What has Overton done to earn your ire?”

“Only try to force me into courtship.” Fiona was perhaps exaggerating with her verb choice, but she didn’t correct herself.

“It’s to be expected, unfortunately. I shall hope for your sake that he will continue to refrain from presenting you a list like my father has to me.”

Fiona made a noise low in her throat that would have horrified Lady Pickering.

It was probably good that she was unable to attend this evening.

“I fear that won’t be far off. I believe I’ve persuaded him to give me at least a modicum of respite.

This is all such a change for me after coming from the country without any expectations. ”

“I can only imagine. I’ve been raised to do just this.” Cassandra raised her voice slightly in mock enthusiasm. “Have a sparkling Season where I dazzle a myriad of suitors before settling into marriage and motherhood.” She rolled her eyes.

“I suppose it’s worth it if you fall in love,” Fiona said.

She couldn’t imagine marrying without doing so, but it seemed it wasn’t necessary.

In watching Overton, she didn’t have the sense he was looking to find a love match.

He was simply in a hurry to find any match.

Or so it seemed. She really couldn’t claim to know him that well.

Why would he tell her his plans or confide his intentions?

In fact, with whom would he discuss any of it? His friends, she supposed. Just as she had Cassandra.

“Love is a fairy tale,” Cassandra said.

“You don’t think it’s real?”

“I do, but I think it’s special and extraordinary.

And I don’t think everyone is fortunate enough to experience it.

My parents shared a mutual affection, but I would not describe it as love, and my brother didn’t marry for the emotion, nor has he found it since.

” She glanced back toward where they’d left Overton and her brother.

This was only the second time Fiona had met Aldington, but she noted that his wife hadn’t been present on either occasion. “Is Lady Aldington here?” Perhaps she was somewhere else in the house.

Cassandra shook her head. “She’s still at Hampton Lodge where they spent the holidays. I expect she’ll arrive in the next few weeks. Or perhaps she won’t come at all. Con hasn’t said.”

“Why do you call him Con instead of Aldington? Do families address their siblings differently?”

“The story goes that when I was learning to speak, I couldn’t pronounce Aldington or Constantine, his Christian name, so I called him Con. He has been Con to me and to Lucien ever since. My father has only recently stopped flinching when I use that in the presence of others.” Cassandra grinned.

“Your father sounds rather terrifying.” Fiona almost hoped she never had occasion to meet him. She’d yet to meet a duke. But then she was going to meet the queen the day after next, so a duke shouldn’t be intimidating. A tide of anxiety tried to wash up her throat.

Cassandra gave her a reassuring nod. “He can be quite surly, particularly with me and my brothers, but he’ll be pleasant to you.”

Fiona thought of her own father, who’d died five years ago. He’d been involved in his studies, never having much time for her, but he’d always been kind.

They’d reached the end of the gallery where it was far less crowded. A door stood partially open, neither inviting nor dissuading them to enter.

Cassandra moved toward it and peered inside. Turning her head toward Fiona, who couldn’t see past her into the room, her eyes danced with anticipation. “It’s a ladies’ card room. Shall we?”

“What’s a ladies’ card room?” Fiona had heard about card rooms at balls and other entertainments, places where gentlemen gathered to play and wager.

“The same as a regular card room, except it appears this one is inhabited entirely by ladies.” She lowered her voice. “I wondered if there might be one here tonight. Lady Billingsworth is known for her gaming—her mother used to have a faro bank years ago.”

Fiona had no idea what that meant and didn’t want to ask at the moment. She wondered when she would stop feeling like such a provincial. Or if she ever would.

Cassandra reached for the door, and Fiona felt a hand on her arm. She turned her head to see Prudence watching her with consternation.

Taking her arm from Cassandra’s, Fiona murmured, “Just a moment.” She took a few steps away from Cassandra, and Prudence followed.

“Is something wrong?” Fiona asked.

“I’m not certain you should go in there.” Prudence glanced past her toward the gaming room.

“Are you truly uncertain, or are you trying to politely tell me to run in the other direction?”

Prudence smiled. “I am uncertain, which is probably bad since I should know these things. I just can’t imagine gaming is encouraged for a young, unwed lady?”

Cassandra joined them. “I’m afraid I have frightfully good hearing. Playing cards with other ladies at a party like this is perfectly acceptable. The important thing is not to play high stakes, which we won’t. If we play at all.” She looked at Fiona. “Do you even know how?”

Fiona shook her head.