The conflict flared inside her as it had since the day before. Fiona was at once excited by the prospect of inheriting an estate and deeply troubled by Tobias’s loss of what would have been his most cherished possession.
Prudence made a sound, startling Fiona. She looked over and saw that Prudence had stood from the settee. Fiona scrambled to do the same as a flush of embarrassment washed up her neck.
Mrs. Tucket did not get up. “Pardon me for not standing, my lady,” she said. “My hip is bothering me more than usual today.”
“You must be Miss Wingate’s maid from Shropshire,” the countess said, her gaze assessing as it moved over Mrs. Tucket, then Prudence, and finally Fiona. “And you must be Miss Wingate.”
Fiona dipped into a curtsey. “Good afternoon, my lady.”
“I hope you aren’t going to fall down as you did at the queen’s drawing room.”
“I shall try not to.” Fiona rose and waited for the dowager to settle into a chair before retaking her place on the settee next to Prudence. “Allow me to introduce my companion, Miss Lancaster.”
The dowager looked toward Prudence, her lips pursing. “You’re too pretty to be a companion.”
Prudence’s cheeks turned a faint pink, something Fiona had never seen before. “Thank you, my lady,” Prudence murmured.
“How fortunate you all are to be here,” the dowager announced. “I imagine it must feel quite extraordinary to be part of an earl’s household.”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Tucket said quickly. “It’s overwhelming, if I’m being honest. I’m looking forward to getting back to Shropshire.”
The dowager smiled faintly. “And when will that be?”
Mrs. Tucket shrugged. “Not until Fiona decides she doesn’t need me.”
“I shall always need you,” Fiona said warmly.
“What about you, Miss Wingate?” the dowager asked. “How are you finding London? Is the Season everything you hoped it would be?”
“Not really,” Fiona said honestly. “I was looking forward to exploring London, but I’ve been more restricted in my activities than I anticipated.”
“Of course you are, dear. It’s London, not some backwater village in Shropshire.”
Fiona tried not to take offense. The way she was raised was likely as foreign to the dowager as London had been to Fiona when she’d first arrived. “Once the weather is warmer, there will be more to do and see.”
“You’d be less restricted if you were wed. What are your plans on that front?”
“She has attracted the attention of the son of a marquess!” Mrs. Tucket beamed proudly.
The dowager cocked her head as she surveyed Fiona. “The heir?”
Fiona clarified, “No, his second son, Lord Gregory Blakemore.”
“Witney’s spare.” The dowager pursed her lips again. “He’s an academic with an eye toward obtaining a living in the church, isn’t that right?”
“It is,” Fiona said. “You are well informed.”
“Just because I’m not in town doesn’t mean I don’t keep up on everything.” Evidently, since she’d mentioned Fiona’s mishap in front of the queen. “Who else has caught your eye?”
The only man that came to Fiona’s mind was Tobias, but she couldn’t very well admit that the dowager’s grandson had caught more than her eye. He’d captured nearly every thought in her head. “No one in particular.”
“How can that be? I realize the Season is young, but you should have multiple suitors. You’re a beauty, despite that red hair, and my grandson tells me you are not empty-headed.”
Fiona stifled a laugh. She was willing to bet Tobias had not used that description. What had he said? That he would flatter her to his grandmother made her feel surprisingly wonderful. “Perhaps I’ve not been attending enough events.” She didn’t draw attention to the fact that Tobias had kept her from going out for a time.
“Well, I’m not convinced Lord Gregory is a suitable choice. While your pedigree is unremarkable, you have enough pleasing attributes, including a very generous dowry, to obtain a better match.”
What would be better than the second son of a marquess who was kind and charming? The same name as before came to mind, and Fiona shoved it away. A frustrated voice in the back of her head asked why, when that very gentleman had actually proposed.
Except he didn’t really want to marry her. Not for the right reasons anyway.
And it was his fault that she wasn’t enthused to wed Lord Gregory. Tobias was the one who’d put it in her mind that she shouldn’t settle for anyone other than the man of her dreams.
“Is there something wrong with Lord Gregory?” Mrs. Tucket asked with a touch of alarm in her voice.
“Wrong is not the right word,” the dowager said haughtily. “I am confident Miss Wingate can—and should—do better.” She directed her icy gray-blue gaze on Fiona. “You’ve still plenty of time left in the Season to make a match. I understand Lady Pickering is your sponsor. I will speak with her and, if necessary, take over myself. Matchmaking is an important task and should not be overlooked.”
Fiona thought of the match her cousin wanted to make and disagreed vigorously. Matchmaking should be completely abandoned. She did not voice that opinion, however. How on earth was she supposed to respond? She settled for, “Lady Pickering has been lovely.”
Mrs. Tucket’s brow creased, forming deep dimples just above the edge of her brows. “Would it be bad if she accepted Lord Gregory?”
Another lip purse from Lady Overton. “I am advising her not to accept Lord Gregory.” She turned her attention to Fiona once more. “My advice should not be ignored.”
This was all so odd. The dowager coming to London without advance notice. This audience in which she apparently wanted to stress the importance of matchmaking. Her stark lack of support for Lord Gregory, who seemed not only suitable but admirable.
What was going on?
The dowager abruptly stood. “Thank you for the enlightening conversation. If I was not
