Some heat returned to his gaze. “They would have devoured you whole. It’s good that I interrupted you. Sometimes the ladies can be more vicious than the men.” He closed the distance between them, moving to stand directly in front of her. “Miss Wingate, Fiona, you must stop these…antics.”
“I fail to see how—”
He held up his hand. “Yes, you fail to see anything of import. Your behavior must be absolutely above reproach. A duke’s daughter will be excused for things that you will not. Following Lady Cassandra about will only get you into trouble. Then what will you do?”
She blinked at him. “What do you mean?”
“What will you do if your reputation is ruined? You won’t be able to marry. Do you want that?”
“I don’t want to get married.” There, she’d said it as plainly as possible, and it felt glorious. A weight lifted off her chest, and she nearly smiled.
His eyes widened and then narrowed. “You’re being foolish and immature. You must marry.”
“Why, because you say so?”
“Would you prefer to return to Bitterley? I’m sure your cousin can still find you a nice country vicar to wed.”
Her blood chilled. “Still?”
“That was his plan before I wrote to him requesting you come to London for the Season.”
Fiona gasped. Her cousin hadn’t told her that. Her shoulders sagged as the victory she’d felt a moment ago evaporated like steam. “Is it terrible that I just want to have some fun for once?”
Exhaling, he rubbed his hand along his jaw. “No. However, you must choose your fun wisely. Visiting the map room at the museum is acceptable. Gambling at loo during a musicale is not.
“I still don’t understand how that will get me into trouble.”
He leaned toward her, and his masculine scent of sandalwood filled the air around her. “Perhaps it won’t, but you aren’t where you’re supposed to be, and that’s when bad things happen.”
A frisson of awareness danced up her spine. She tipped her head back to look up at him and swallowed. “What sort of bad things?”
“Things like you leaving the card room by yourself and being dragged into a room by a gentleman who wishes to take liberties.” His gaze briefly dipped before snapping back to hers.
Her breath caught as her pulse sped. “Like this?”
“I am not taking liberties,” he said softly, his velvet tone making her think he very well could. “Nor would I. You are my ward. That would be highly improper. But you can see how easy it would be for someone to bring you here and kiss you.”
Fiona swallowed again, suddenly feeling warm. He was embarrassing her again. He was quite good at that. Unless it wasn’t embarrassment. Because the image of him kissing her flashed in her mind, causing another blast of heat.
She was definitely blaming embarrassment.
He thankfully interrupted her wayward thoughts. “Then you’d be compromised. And if the gentleman refused to wed, you’d be ruined.”
“I shall be more careful.” Her eyes met his for a charged moment.
Nostrils flaring, the earl took a step back. “You’re damned right you will. And you’ll marry as soon as possible”
She shook her head. “I won’t.”
“You will. You can either find someone here in London or return to Shropshire and become a vicar’s wife. I’ll leave the decision to you.” He took a deep breath and smoothed his hand over his hair. “Let us attend the performance.” He offered her his arm once more.
She glared at him instead of taking it, then she turned and stalked from the room. She wasn’t going to marry anyone, nor was she going to return to Shropshire. There had to be another option.
Fiona just had to discover it.
Chapter 6
The last thing Tobias wanted to do after the discomfort of sitting through the musicale next to an angry Miss Wingate was visit White’s to have a drink with Aldington. However, doing so was crucial to the rehabilitation of his reputation, and so here he was scanning the room for the earl.
Tobias ignored the cluster of gentlemen surrounding the table in front of the bow window where Brummel held court. Aldington wouldn’t be anywhere near there. When Tobias had visited a few nights ago, Aldington had made a point to disdain the spectacle that often clustered around Brummel. It had briefly occurred to Tobias that Aldington might actually prefer the more casual atmosphere of the Phoenix Club where no one behaved sycophantically.
“Here again, Overton?”
Turning his head at the sound of his name, Tobias inwardly cringed at seeing Philip Trowley. Outwardly, he summoned a bland smile. “Evening, Trowley.”
The older man stroked his hand over his rotund belly as he moved closer to Tobias. “I was just mocking a wager someone had entered about you marrying by Easter. Who would take that bet?” He chortled loudly, drawing the attention of others around them.
“I haven’t looked at the betting book,” Tobias said with a patience he only barely possessed.
“Coming here twice in one week after so long an absence following your fall from grace… I daresay you are trying to improve your reputation so as to make the best possible match.” He sidled closer, lowering his voice as his madeira-soaked breath wafted over Tobias. “Tell me, is that true?”
“Perhaps I’m here to forge political connections,” Tobias replied mildly as he took care not to breathe through his nose. “I’m new to the Lords, and I’m taking my new position rather seriously.”
Trowley stared at Tobias a moment, seemingly at a loss for words. Then he erupted in laughter once more and smacked Tobias on the back hard enough that he had to grind his heels into the floor to keep from pitching forward. “You almost had me! I’m for the betting book.” He took himself off, tottering a bit uncertainly.
Exhaling, Tobias turned and continued his search for Aldington. At last, he caught sight of the man at a table near the corner. As
