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Tobias leaned forward. “I’d meant to ask you what she said when she asked you to approach. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to share.”

She lifted a shoulder. “I don’t mind. She said this was the adventure of a lifetime and that I should enjoy it.

I felt such relief when she said that. I’d begun to despair that a London Season is really no more than a business transaction.

A young lady receives clothing and experiences, and in return, she must marry to the best of her ability. ”

The uncomfortable truth of her assessment pierced straight into Tobias, making him shift in his seat. “I suppose it really is just that,” he said a bit hesitantly, as if not agreeing with her would make it less true.

Her gaze met his, and she didn’t blink. “As I told you, I don’t wish to marry, at least not right now. However, I also don’t want to return to Bitterley. I fear my life might turn out like my mother’s.”

Another direct hit. Tobias pressed back against the chair and scrubbed his forehead. It occurred to him that he was forcing something upon her that she didn’t want, not now anyway. He was no better than his father. Damn if that didn’t sting worse than anything she’d said to him.

Before he could come up with a thing to say, she continued. “I will wed, however. Because I don’t want to return to Bitterley. All I’m asking for is some time to enjoy the Season and my, er, freedom. It is my hope that in time I will meet someone with whom I will suit.”

How could he argue with such a sensible plan?

“You must forgive me, Miss Wingate. I fear I’ve been rather wrapped up in my own problems, and I failed to recognize what a drastic change this is for you.

Yes, please take time to adjust. I was actually thinking that you might benefit from a respite from the demands of the Season.

We have the ball tomorrow night, but after that, we’ll decline your invitations for the next week or two so you may become more comfortable. ”

Her brow furrowed, and she rested her elbow on the arm of her chair. “I was rather enjoying the events of the Season. Even today’s drawing room.”

He smiled. “I’m glad. I’m not asking you to become a hermit. We just won’t attend any more invitations until March. You’re welcome to visit with Lady Cassandra and take outings together. Weren’t you planning to go to Gunter’s soon?”

Her brow was still creased, and he suspected she didn’t like what he was suggesting. “Yes, we are still planning that as well as a few other things.” Fiona drew a breath. “Lord Overton, is this some sort of punishment for?—”

He sat forward in his chair. “Not at all. I thought you wanted time to adjust. This seemed like a good solution.” Except she seemed to be enjoying her Season just fine, even if he thought she needed more tutelage.

“It’s only for a short period.” Besides, with her safe at home, he could focus on finding his bride.

Her features finally relaxed, the lines in her forehead smoothing until they disappeared. “You mentioned you had problems. Is there any way I can help?”

He glanced toward the fire. “I, ah, need to marry this Season.”

“‘Need’ to? Is there a reason for your urgency?”

He didn’t want to reveal his father’s dying edict.

It was one thing for people to conclude that he was countess-hunting given his reentry into Society and his improved behavior.

However, to share his father’s machinations and the fact that he was manipulating Tobias from the grave was far more than he wanted to acknowledge.

“Now that I’ve inherited the title, it’s time,” he said. “I thought I could see you wed and then focus on my own marriage hunt.”

“I see.” She pressed her lips together and turned her head toward the fire.

Was she angry with him? Why wouldn’t she be? He’d treated her as an afterthought and had all but admitted it just then. “I apologize, Miss Wingate, for thinking of you as a task and not a person. It is important to me that you enjoy your Season. And your freedom.”

She looked back at him with a slight smile.

“I realize this is also new for you and not something you expected. I am grateful you heeded your father’s wishes and gave me this astonishing opportunity.

And for my expanding exposure to maps.” She clasped her hands in her lap.

“I shall keep an open mind regarding marriage, particularly if I meet a gentleman who isn’t put off by my background or interests.

It may be that no one in London will want me. ” She laughed softly.

“That won’t happen,” Tobias said with firm certainty. “You’re beautiful, intelligent, witty. Why, any gentleman would want you. If you actively sought a husband, I predict you’d be betrothed within a fortnight.”

Her eyes rounded, and her face lost most of its color.

He rushed to alleviate her distress. “Only if you wanted to. We are agreed that you will take your time. I will focus my energies on myself.” He was the one who needed to be betrothed within a fortnight!

Less than that now. “It’s good that you will keep an open mind, just in case you meet the man of your dreams.”

Laughing, she tucked an errant curl behind her ear. “I don’t have a man of my dreams.”

“Then you should think of one.”

“Do you have one?” she asked. “A woman of your dreams, that is.”

“I do, actually.” He cast his head back and looked at the ceiling. “She’s smart and funny. She’s mature so that she knows what she wants and is not easily swayed. I suppose she’s also strong and confident.” He lowered his gaze and met hers once more to find she was staring at him.

“You’ve thought about this.”

Because he’d made a mistake two years ago, and he wouldn’t repeat it. “I have to. I’m an earl. It has always been my duty to wed and have an heir. That I didn’t do so sooner was a thorn in my father’s side. What if I died without issue?” He slapped his palms to his cheeks and gaped at her.

She giggled. “We shouldn’t be joking about death.”

“Why not? It happens to all of us. If we can’t laugh at life—and death—what point is there?”

She grew serious, returning her elbow to the arm of the chair and resting her chin on her hand.

“You make a compelling argument. I’d rather laugh.

Take today’s debacle, for instance. I was so wound up with anxiety and fear that I almost forgot to have a good time.

I met the queen, for heaven’s sake! And yes, I fell on my arse, but—” She clapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry.”

Laughter erupted from him, and once he started, he couldn’t stop. It was the combination of the horror on her face from saying “arse” and the memory of the horror on her face when she’d collapsed in front of the bloody Queen of England.

Thankfully, she joined in with him, her face lighting up with humor and joy. And of course she did. He’d meant it when he’d told her she was witty. His eye caught the clock on the mantel. If he was going to the club, he should probably leave…

He didn’t want to.

When his laughter began to fade, he sat forward to the edge of his chair. “We’re still going to a ball tomorrow night. How is your dancing coming along?”

“Well, I think. I practiced with the dancing master every day except today.”

He stood and offered her his hand. “Show me.”

She slipped her fingers into his palm, and he felt a surprising jolt. Her gaze ratcheted up to his, and he tugged her from the chair.

Leading her to the center of the study, he stepped back from her. “What dance do you prefer?”

“None of them.”

He arched a brow. “You don’t like dancing at all?”

“I like dancing. I’m just awful at it.”

“You can’t be that bad. Have you waltzed?”

“No. Lady Pickering said I would learn that last, and, in the meantime, I’m to say I don’t have permission. Doesn’t that make me sound dreadfully provincial?” She shuddered.

“No.” He laughed again. “All right, maybe. I’ll teach you.”

“Really?”

“Why not?” He moved closer to her. “There are a few ways to conduct a waltz, but I’ll show you the version I prefer.” He took her left hand, clasping it within his, then placed his palm against the flat of her back. “You put your other hand on my shoulder.”

She complied, looking up at him in slight surprise. “We’re so close.”

There were still several inches between them, but he supposed this was closer than she’d ever been to a gentleman.

Save the musicale when he’d admonished her.

There’d been a moment when he’d mentioned kissing, and he could’ve sworn something had passed between them.

He’d since convinced himself that was absurd.

“Now you know why permission is required.” He gave her a flirtatious smirk, such that she might expect from a gentleman on the dance floor.

She smacked him on the shoulder. “Don’t do that!”

“Do what?” he asked with faux innocence.

“Behave like one of the young bucks who might wish to court me.”

“I was once a young buck.” Who flirted with every lady he met, regardless of her age or marital status. Was he flirting with her?

“You’re my guardian.”

Yes, he was. Consequently, he should not flirt with her. For a fleeting moment, he found that disappointing.

“Right. Then allow me to behave like a guardian and teach you to waltz.” Lifting his chin and stiffening his frame, he focused on her hairline.

“The most important thing to remember about the waltz is keeping time to the music. You can count one-two-three in your head. But don’t get too caught up in doing that or you won’t be able to exchange witticisms with your partner. ”

“You assume my partner will be capable of being amusing.”

“One can hope. Dancing with a dullard is truly awful.”

She nodded, her expression effusive. “Yes, you’re stuck together for so much time . Abysmal.”

“I’m going to guide you around the room,” he said. “We’ll move in a clockwise direction.”

“And pretend there is music playing.”

Tobias pressed his palm against her back and clutched her hand more firmly, then started to move. A melody came to his mind, and he began to hum.

She stumbled, and he had to clasp her even more tightly to keep her upright. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Dancing.”

“No, the sound you’re making.”

“I’m humming.” He started up again as he steered her in a small circle, which was all the room would allow. They risked becoming dizzy.

She stopped so abruptly that he nearly fell. Digging her fingers into his shoulder, she started laughing.

“We’re barely dancing! How can you be laughing?”

“Because you sound like a cat in mourning.”

He stared at her, shocked, but he was already starting to laugh.

She sobered. “My apologies,” she said solemnly. “To cats. I think that was perhaps insulting to them.”

“Fiona!” The laughter spilled out of him then, and it was far more debilitating than the last time. Moisture pricked his eyes as he fought to gain his breath.

She grinned as she watched him. Then, gradually, she began to laugh too. A long moment later, they stood together fighting to catch their breath, their hands still clasped.

“You did not call me Miss Wingate,” she managed to say.

He took a deep breath and wiped the back of his hand over his eyes. “And I apparently sound like a dying animal.”

“That is not what I said!”

“Is it wrong?”

She shook her head, another giggle escaping her.

At the precise same moment, they both looked down at their still-joined hands. Their amusement came to an abrupt and rather obvious halt.

They released each other and took a step back.

“Well, that was nearly as disastrous as my presentation to the queen,” she said.

“That bad? I was rather enjoying it, or at least the few seconds I was allowed to.” He rubbed his hands together for he could still feel the heat of her palm against his. He could also smell her lavender scent.

He darted a glance toward the clock and decided it wasn’t too late after all. “I must be on my way to the club. Thank you for the, ah, memorable dance .”

She curtsied, dipping as deep as she had that afternoon. However, this time, she rose with grace and precision. “Haha! I did it. See, it is those infernal gowns.”

“I never doubted it,” he said. “Or you. See you tomorrow, Miss Wingate.” He turned.

“Good night,” she called after him.

A few minutes later, wrapped in his great coat and a hat stuffed on his head, Tobias pulled on gloves as he strode toward Bond Street, where he would still be able to catch a hack. He hadn’t wanted to wait for his coach to be brought round from the mews.

Now that he was going to ease up on matchmaking Miss Wingate, he needed to plan for what could happen. No, what should happen. He would marry in the coming weeks, and Miss Wingate would come under the new countess’s oversight.

And just who would that countess be? Bloody hell, he needed to set his sights on someone and move rapidly to a betrothal. It seemed he was destined for a special license wedding at this point.

Tomorrow at the ball, he must be singularly minded.

Hopefully Miss Goodfellow would be there.

And who was the other woman Lucien had mentioned?

Tobias thought of the young lady he’d met at the drawing room that afternoon—Miss Nethergate.

He shuddered. No, she was far too young.

He wasn’t going to repeat the errors of the past.

Resolved toward his goal, Tobias inhaled a deep breath of cool night air. Oddly, he could have sworn he smelled lavender.