Sucking in a sharp breath, Fiona made a face as she looked toward the fireplace. “Why do you think that?”
Prudence surprised her by laughing softly. “Are you really going to deny it? After that reaction? No, you aren’t shy or reserved, nor are you adept at hiding your thoughts and emotions. At least, not completely.”
Exhaling, Fiona leaned back in the chair. “Very well. No, I don’t want to get married. Not immediately anyway. I only just left Bitterley, where I had no choices about my life.”
“We’re women. Choice is not something we are typically afforded. Especially when you are lucky enough to have a Season.” Her tone was matter-of-fact but without any bitterness or envy. She was merely stating the truth—Fiona was lucky.
Fiona drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair. “So I am learning. I had no idea there would be expectations.” She’d been foolish to think otherwise, but how was she to know? She no longer had a mother, and Mrs. Tucket had demonstrated her complete lack of knowledge about such matters. Indeed, the only advice Fiona’s mother had ever imparted was to be wary of who she wed, that it was the most important decision she would ever make and, once committed to, could never be undone. The counsel wasn’t necessarily earth-shaking, but the earnest manner in which her mother had delivered it had always stuck with Fiona.
“There are always expectations,” Prudence said with a touch of darkness. “You should tell his lordship soon.”
“Perhaps he’ll change his mind and send me back to Bitterley.” The thought of that made her want to weep.
“Or not.” Prudence lifted a shoulder. “I shan’t tell him.”
Fiona looked at her in surprise. “But you work for him. Surely you feel a sense of loyalty to your employer.”
“Yes, but my duty is to you. My loyalty is to you.”
The sense of solidarity sank into Fiona, filling her with a gladness she hadn’t felt in some time. “Thank you. I have just decided you are the very best thing about coming to London.”
Prudence smiled. “I think I’ll go to bed.” She started to rise, but Fiona lifted her hand.
“Wait, one moment, if you please. Would you be up for an early morning jaunt tomorrow?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I am desperate to go to Hyde Park. It’s not that far. We can walk, can’t we?”
“Yes, but ladies don’t go to the park in the early morning. Are you hoping to see a duel?”
Fiona shot forward to the edge of her seat. “A duel?”
“They are typically fought in the park at dawn.”
“How horrible. I don’t think I’d want to see that.”
Prudence wrinkled her nose. “Neither would I. Particularly when we can observe men being idiots just about anywhere.”
Fiona laughed. “Oh, I do like you. I only wanted to see the park. But if you think we should not—”
“I didn’t say that. We’ll just go for a brisk walk that happens to take us into the park,” she said airily as she stood.
Staring up at her chaperone, Fiona felt a renewed surge of excitement for the Season. “You have quite shocked me this evening, Prudence. You are not at all what you seem.”
Prudence’s eyes glimmered with something indescribable. “See you in the morning.”
Fiona could hardly wait.
Chapter 4
Tobias walked into Lord and Lady Edgemont’s house near Berkeley Square, trailing his ward and her chaperone and sponsor. Miss Wingate looked lovely this evening, dressed in an ivory ballgown trimmed in pale green and gold. Her dark red hair was expertly styled, proving her new lady’s maid, recommended by Lady Pickering, was a welcome addition to the household. Tobias didn’t want to think about how much money his ward was costing him. It didn’t bear consideration because his father had set aside a rather large sum for precisely this purpose.
Why his father was so willing to invest in this young woman was baffling. Tobias supposed it was simply because of the affection he bore Miss Wingate’s father, but since Tobias had never witnessed any sort of warm feeling from him—toward anyone—it was hard to believe. Or perhaps it was only difficult to accept that he’d apparently liked his friend from Oxford better than his own family.
Lord and Lady Edgemont greeted them in their grand staircase hall.
“So many lovely young ladies having their first Season,” Lady Edgemont exclaimed after meeting Miss Wingate. “You shall have a hard time choosing a wife, Lord Overton!”
He smiled blandly before offering his arm to Lady Pickering so they could climb the stairs to the ballroom. Or what was likely, in a house this size, a drawing room and another chamber opened up together to create something approaching the breadth of an actual ballroom.
“How did Lady Edgemont know I am in search of a wife?” he whispered to Lady Pickering.
“Because you are.” She sent him a scolding look. “Why else would you be back in Society after your…respite?”
The word respite made his activities seem positively benign. “It’s obvious I am looking for a countess?” He’d hoped to conduct his search without the pressure of Society watching his every move. But Lady Pickering was right—his return to Society after nearly two years of skirting the edges would be noted. And questioned. And endlessly remarked and speculated upon. He groaned inwardly.
“It is the logical conclusion. Particularly since you have recently inherited the earldom.” Lady Pickering pressed her lips together. “On second thought, perhaps people won’t make that assumption. Logic isn’t found in the greatest abundance in the ton.”
Tobias grinned as they reached the drawing room. There were already a few dozen people in attendance, and the musicians were warming up.
Lady Pickering looked back at Miss Wingate and Miss Lancaster and inclined her head toward the wall where a tall window looked over Charles Street below. A line of carriages moved slowly beside the pavement.
“Now, Miss Wingate, do remember everything we discussed. You must accept every invitation to dance until your card is full.”
Miss Wingate nodded.
“Are you feeling
