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Fiona hadn’t thought of that. But if he wed soon, that’s precisely what would happen.

How would his countess feel about having to share her house with her new husband and his ward?

The pressure for Fiona to wed would grow apace.

“I’ll settle for pleasant.” And patient, for what if she didn’t wed?

What if his new countess hated having his ward here and insisted he send her back to Shropshire?

She would hope he didn’t find a wife soon.

Discordant notes from a pianoforte greeted Tobias as he entered his house and handed his hat and gloves to Carrin. “I hear it has arrived.”

“Indeed, my lord. It has been placed in the sitting room as you directed. However, it will need to be arranged in a more pleasing fashion.”

“Excellent.” Smiling, Tobias veered left into the sitting room that faced the street. The small pianoforte stood in the corner, awkwardly situated between other pieces of furniture.

Miss Wingate stood in front of it, her fingers picking randomly across the keys.

“A lovely melody already,” he said, drawing a gasp from his ward as she abruptly pivoted toward him. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I didn’t hear you enter over the noise I was making. A melody?” Her lips curved with amusement. “You’re very kind, particularly after I cringed at your humming.”

Tobias laughed. “True, I am quite magnanimous. Shall I hire a teacher for you then?”

“Surely I’m too old to learn.” She glanced back at the instrument. “I didn’t really think you were going to get one. And certainly not this fast.”

He shrugged. “Lucien had an extra.”

Her brows drew together. “Just a surplus pianoforte lying around?”

“Or something. Lucien is quite good at solving problems.”

“Was not having a pianoforte a problem?”

“Of course not, but when I mentioned I wanted to get one for you, he said he could have one delivered today.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“It was a surprise. I’ll inquire about a teacher tomorrow.”

“Do you play?”

“Only superficially. My mother was quite skilled. We used to make up silly ditties when I was a boy.” He hadn’t thought of those in years.

Miss Wingate smiled broadly. “About what?”

The words of one came back to him. “Frogs are slimy, and they eat flies. Birds are downy, and they just fly.”

She laughed, her eyes alight with mirth. “You were a true poet.”

“Why lie about such a thing when you were unflinchingly brutal about my abysmal humming?”

“Did I say it was abysmal?”

“You said something was abysmal, and since you compared me to a cat in heat, I think that’s probably accurate.”

“I did not say a cat in heat.” She held up her finger to make her point. “I said a cat in mourning .”

“I can’t decide which is more flattering.”

“Definitely the bereaved cat.” She turned back to the pianoforte and plucked out a few more notes. “Perhaps we can put on a musicale.”

“For those who can’t hear, I hope.”

She grinned. “We’ll make it for some indistinct future date. After we are wed.” She clasped her hands and faced him once more. “Did you make good progress on that front?”

Her comment about them both being married jolted him, for his initial interpretation was them married to each other . As if his reputation wasn’t bad enough. What would the ton say if he wed his ward?

It didn’t bear consideration.

“Yes, I think so,” he managed, directing his mind to the question she’d posed. “I called on Miss Goodfellow, and we had a nice visit.”

Miss Wingate ran her slender fingers over the top of the pianoforte. “Does she play?”

“I don’t know. That topic didn’t come up. We mostly discussed the absurd war we just lost in America.”

“Did you? What an odd thing for a young lady to discuss with a suitor. Or so I’ve been led to believe.”

He snapped his gaze to hers. “Who told you that? It’s terrible advice. Don’t rely on the Fs for conversation.” He shuddered.

“The Fs?”

“Fashion, food, and flowers. It’s all most young ladies talk about. And the weather.”

“You won’t catch me discussing fashion. I can, however, wax rather effusively about Shropshire flowers. I tended a garden back home. What used to be home, anyway.”

Used to be. “You don’t think of it as home anymore?”

She exhaled and moved away from the pianoforte. “It’s difficult to think of a place as home when you don’t have family, and nothing really belongs to you. Home is solid and secure—permanent. I have felt rather transient in recent years. I suppose I still am.”

Tobias realized Horethorne was the place he recognized as home. He lived here and at Deane Hall, but his mother’s house, where he spent Yuletide and a few weeks in late summer, was where things felt most secure and…permanent. Which was why he’d never let it go.

He pivoted toward where she’d gone. “That’s a beautiful sentiment, albeit sad. I want you to feel at home here.”

She summoned a half smile. “I am as comfortable as I could possibly be. But this is temporary.”

“You do have family—your cousin and his wife. And Mrs. Tucket is somewhat like family, isn’t she?

” The former maid had begun to assert herself as a kind of assistant housekeeper, much to Mrs. Smythe’s chagrin.

If she didn’t stand down, Tobias was going to have to intervene.

In fact, he should probably say something to Miss Wingate. Perhaps she could help.

“Yes, she is,” Miss Wingate answered. “My cousin and his wife, however, are not. We have never been close. Actually, I’ve only met his wife three, maybe four times in the three years they’ve been married.”

Tobias found that shocking. And horrible. Why didn’t they regularly invite Fiona to dinner at their house? He couldn’t send her back to Bitterley, knowing what she’d return to.

“It sounds as if things are going well with Miss Goodfellow then?” It seemed Miss Wingate didn’t wish to continue speaking of her cousin, and Tobias would respect that.

“I believe so, yes.”

“Did you call on anyone else?” Miss Wingate went to the settee where she gracefully sat at one end and arranged her skirt. She’d learned a great deal in the almost fortnight she’d been here. Perhaps she didn’t need a break from Society after all.

“Not today.” He deposited himself in the chair angled near her position, stretching his legs out.

“That’s probably well and good,” she said. “Best to take your time with finding the right countess.” She smiled serenely. “When more people come to town, you’ll have an even wider selection of potential brides.”

He didn’t disagree, but he didn’t have the benefit of time. Nor did he like the idea of the Marriage Mart where he browsed young ladies like horses at Tattersall’s. Furthermore, he’d done that two years ago, and the results had been disastrous.

“I’m not sure I care to participate in the full-fledged Marriage Mart. Better to settle on someone soon, I think.”

“Settle? My lord, that doesn’t sound romantic at all. Surely you wish to feel something for your wife? Another reason to take your time, to allow emotion to root and bloom and flourish.”

He nearly laughed at her word choice, even as her perspective hit him square in the chest. He didn’t love Miss Goodfellow. Not yet anyway. “You’re using a flower analogy.”

“Oh dear, does that count as an F?” she asked in mock horror.

“I’ll allow it. And you’ll have to tell me about your Shropshire flowers some time.”

“Fritillaries, oh blast, another F, are my favorite. I love the checkered pattern on the blooms. They bloom in April and May. If you wait to get married until then, I could have some brought here for your bride’s bouquet.”

Was she trying to get him to put off his marriage? Why would she do that? Unless…

No, she couldn’t know about his father’s will.

The only people who knew she stood to inherit Horethorne if Tobias didn’t marry within three months of his father’s death were his closest friends and his father’s secretary.

Who was now Tobias’s secretary. Tobias had asked him if Miss Wingate would be notified of her potential inheritance, but Dyer had assured him she would not unless the three months elapsed before Tobias wed.

Tobias brought his legs up, bending them at the knee, and rested his elbow on the arm of the chair. “Why are you so interested in my marriage all of a sudden?”

“It’s important to you, and it does affect me.”

Tensing, he probed further. “In what way?”

“Your new countess will take command of this household, as she should. I am a member of this household. For the time being.”

He stared at her as if by looking long and hard enough, he’d be able to divine what else she might be thinking. Alas, that was impossible.

“Cassandra visited earlier.” Miss Wingate moved closer to the end of the settee. Closer to him. “Have you spoken to Lord Lucien about my idea to change the rules so you can bring me to the assemblies as your guest?”

“I haven’t had a chance.” He didn’t really understand why this was so important to her.

It was just another ball. That wasn’t exactly true.

It was a coveted invitation, like Almack’s but so much better.

If he were young and new to London, he’d probably want to go too.

Hell, he was neither, and if he wasn’t a member of the club, he’d be trying everything possible to garner an invitation.

She pressed against the arm of the settee, and her skirt brushed his boot. “Surely this is another problem Lord Lucien can solve. Particularly since this affects his sister, and he owns the club .”

“Put like that, it sounds rather achievable. Rest assured, I will speak with him on the matter.”

“I must say, I don’t understand why Lady Pickering hasn’t been invited. She seems like precisely the sort of well-respected woman in Society that the club would want to include.”

“How would you know that?”

“Because everyone always speaks of her with awe and admiration. Besides, didn’t you say Lord Lucien helped you gain her support as my sponsor? That would infer they are at least friendly. Why wouldn’t he invite her to his club?”

“Because it isn’t just up to him.”

“I think there are things you know about the club and its policies that you aren’t telling me.” She straightened, her eyes rounding. “Are you on the membership committee?”

“Why would you think that?” He’d responded too damn quickly and with too much vehemence. He forced a laugh. “If I was on the membership committee, I could ensure you were invited to the balls.”

Setting her elbow on the arm of the settee, she rested her chin on her palm. “Could you? So the membership committee does more than invite members. They control every aspect of the club?”

“I can’t say because I’m not a member of the committee.”

“Not allowing women to become members until after they wed is a terrible policy, as is not letting them be invited to an assembly unless they are sponsored by a member.”

Tobias ran his hand through his hair, then silently cursed himself for appearing agitated in any way. “It is not a terrible policy to disallow young, unmarried women membership. To do so would ruin the young woman.”

She cocked her head, her hand still supporting her chin. “But it doesn’t ruin older unmarried women?”

“They are already—” He snapped his mouth closed.

He wasn’t sure what he’d been about to say, but nothing would be good.

He’d yet to determine exactly what made a woman a spinster and found that the idea genuinely intrigued him.

“I don’t disagree that the policy is unfair.

However, it mirrors Society’s rules, and we must abide by them.

” Except wasn’t the point of the club to buck the ton’s conventions and rigidity?

Yes, but they still couldn’t lead young ladies to ruin.

She lowered her arm, keeping the elbow on the settee. “I apologize if I seem rather na?ve about these matters. Society is unnecessarily complicated, in my humble opinion.”

“I don’t disagree with you,” he murmured. “And I find your na?vete refreshing.”

She leaned toward him. “Do you?” Her dark eyes met his with unabashed curiosity.

He found himself pitching forward as well so that their faces were only a few inches apart. “Utterly.”

“My lord?”

Tobias and Miss Wingate jumped at precisely the same moment, their noses colliding with such force that they both fell back against their respective pieces of furniture with a collective “Ow!”

He held his face as numbness crawled up his nose. Miss Wingate did the same, her hand cradled over her nose and mouth.

“I beg your pardon,” Carrin said. “Mr. Dyer is here for your scheduled meeting.”

Hell, Tobias had forgotten all about that. And he’d even been thinking about Dyer a few minutes ago.

Tobias was unaccountably disappointed. Glancing toward Carrin, he slowly lowered his hand from his face. “I’ll be there in a moment.” Did he sound as if he had a cold?

Carrin inclined his head and departed.

Tobias instantly turned to Miss Wingate. “Are you all right?”

She nodded as she slowly removed her hand from her face. Wiggling her nose, she said, “I think so.”

He couldn’t stop staring at her reddened nose and the alluring way she was moving it. Because her lips also moved, and now he was fixed on them as well.

Hell.

Carefully, he rose from the chair, lest they suffer some sort of additional mishap. “I’m terribly sorry about that.”

“It was an accident.” She laughed softly. “I’m rather good at those since coming to town. I promise my agility wasn’t this poor before.”

“It’s my influence. I’m making you clumsy.”

“How can it be your fault?” She shook her head briskly. “I haven’t noticed that you are clumsy at all.”

“Given what just happened, I don’t think you can rule it out.

Perhaps you should rethink your plans to delay finding a husband so you may get away from me as soon as possible.

” He’d meant it as a joke, but the moment he saw the discomfort flit through her gaze, he regretted it.

“That was a jest. All of this was a jest. Of course I haven’t affected your agility. ”

“Of course,” she murmured.

“I must meet with my secretary now. Keep hammering away on the pianoforte, if you like.” He smiled at her on his way out.

As he made his way to his study, he wondered why, in addition to his still smarting nose, his lips were also tingling.