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.
Chapter 8
“Cassandra!” Fiona greeted her friend as soon as she entered the Basildons’ ballroom with Prudence at her side. It felt good to have Prudence back, as if nothing horrendous would befall Fiona as it had at the queen’s drawing room the day before.
Cassandra stood near the wall. Her aunt, whom Fiona had met briefly at the Edgemont ball, was deep in conversation with another lady nearby.
“Fiona, I’m so glad to see you. I worried you may not come tonight after what happened yesterday. But then I decided that was silly because you would never let such a thing affect you that much.” Cassandra’s brow puckered. “Are you all right?”
Fiona laughed gaily. “More than. Think of the story I have to tell for the rest of my life.”
“What did the queen say to you? Everyone was dying to know.”
“If I tell you, do you promise not to share? I’d rather people continue to guess.” She winked at Cassandra, who grinned.
“I do like how you think. It is no wonder we are friends.”
“As it happens, she told me I was having the adventure of a lifetime, and she’s right. A country girl like me having a London Season. Who could have imagined that? I took it quite to heart and informed Lord Overton last night that I would not be rushed into marriage.”
Cassandra’s dark brows climbed her forehead. “Did you? What did he say?”
“He agreed.” Fiona glanced toward Prudence. “However, he also said that after tonight, I shall be taking a break from accepting invitations for the next week or two.” Fiona pushed her lips into a brief pout.
Cassandra looked crestfallen. “That is utterly unfortunate. Events like this won’t be the same without you.”
“He said we can still take all the outings we planned. I do believe he is relieved to not concern himself with me, since he’s focused on finding his own wife. At least that’s what Prudence and I deduced.”
Prudence nodded in agreement.
Cassandra’s eyes lit with mischief. “Do you know what I should do? I should flirt with Overton and make a courtship seem imminent. My brothers would have fits.” She laughed, then tapped her finger against her lip. “So tempting.” Blinking, she focused beyond Fiona. “Speaking of brothers, here comes Lucien. You haven’t met him yet, have you, Fi?”
Pivoting, Fiona saw Lord Lucien coming toward them. “I have not.” He looked more like Cassandra than like their brother, Aldington. Dark-haired and dark-eyed, Lord Lucien moved with the predatory grace
