by Darcy Burke
Taking a step back from her, he exhaled some of the frustration from his body. Sexual frustration, if he were honest with himself. Deciding honesty was overrated, he attributed the tension to the impact of today’s events on his marriage plans. He was running out of time.
“Go upstairs now,” he said. “And stay there until tomorrow.” He sounded autocratic and obnoxious, like his bloody father, but he needed to. However their relationship had changed today, he had to get them back to where they needed to be—he was her guardian, and she was his ward.
“I get to stay?”
“Apparently. Don’t make me regret my decision.”
“I won’t. Thank you.” She turned to go but hesitated at the door. Looking back over her shoulder, she said, “I really am sorry. If there’s anything I can do to help you, I hope you’ll let me.”
You could marry me. That would solve my problems.
The idea came from nowhere and shocked him to his core. He said nothing as Fiona left, his heart pounding at the notion that had just crept into his mind.
He was in trouble where she was concerned. Especially if he couldn’t even stop thinking of her as Fiona instead of Miss Wingate. She was his ward, not a woman he desired.
Unfortunately, she was both.
Chapter 13
Mrs. Tucket yawned loudly as she rushed to put her hand in front of her mouth. “I must to bed, girls.” She started to rise from her chair in the sitting room Fiona shared with Prudence but wobbled.
Fiona jumped up from her chair and went to help Mrs. Tucket to her feet. The older woman smiled and patted her hand. “Thank you, dear.”
“You should have brought your cane.” Fiona had taken her to get one over a week ago, but Mrs. Tucket was not using it consistently.
“Bah, I haven’t got very far to go, and I’m not going up and down stairs.”
“At least let me help you to your room,” Fiona said, still holding the older woman’s arm.
“That won’t be necessary. If I can’t walk that far on my own, I’m a lost cause. You stay with Miss Lancaster.” Mrs. Tucket sent a smile toward Prudence.
Fiona reluctantly released her. “You promise you’re going to your room? That you aren’t going down multiple flights of stairs to bother Mrs. Smythe?”
“No, I’m not doing that.” Mrs. Tucket sighed. “I was only trying to help with directing the maids. This is such a large household, and I thought Mrs. Smythe could do with the support.”
“You’re retired now, Mrs. Tucket,” Fiona said kindly. She’d had to speak with her the day before about intruding on the housekeeper’s domain. “You don’t have to do any of that. Just relax and let others do the work.”
“It’s very hard to stop managing things when you’ve been doing it your whole life. Since I was eleven, mind you, when my mother died and, as the oldest, I had to take charge of everyone, including my poor father.” She shook her head as she meandered to the door. “Good night.”
“Good night,” both Fiona and Prudence called after her.
“She’s such a sweet woman.” Fiona retook her chair near Prudence’s, picking up the book she’d set on the seat when she’d leapt up to help Mrs. Tucket. “I do wonder if she’d be happier in a cottage back in Shropshire. I should speak to Lord Overton about it. Although, she really isn’t his concern. I should probably wait and let my husband decide what to do. He’ll be the one to support her.” She turned her head to Prudence. “Will he support her? I suppose Mrs. Tucket won’t be his concern either, but she’s as good as family to me.”
“Then you’ll only choose a husband who understands and values that.”
Fiona wasn’t sure it would be that easy, but she would take the advice to heart. “You’re so wise.”
“I’m not sure that’s accurate,” Prudence said with a frown. “I should have put a stop to your plans to go to the Phoenix Club, not stand idly by while you secured costumes and executed a reckless scheme.”
Fiona had told her what happened as soon as she’d arrived home. Not everything, of course. She’d left out the kissing part. “You are not to blame for what happened. I did want to ask how you knew about the maid costumes.” She hadn’t had a chance earlier because she’d been summoned to the earl’s study.
Prudence was focused on her embroidery, her hand moving the needle perhaps a bit more slowly than a moment before. “I don’t remember where I heard about them. Probably overheard something.” She didn’t look up.
Fiona wasn’t sure she believed that but wouldn’t press her. “I’ve also been meaning to ask how you knew Lord Lucien. The night I met him, you two were already acquainted.”
Now Prudence sent her a furtive glance. Her hand stopped, but only for a moment before poking the needle into the fabric again. “Lord Lucien helps people. I used to work at a school, but I didn’t like it.” She spoke slowly and deliberately, which only made Fiona more curious. “I heard about him from a friend and asked for his help to find new employment.”
There was clearly more to her story, but it seemed equally evident that Prudence didn’t wish to share it all. She wasn’t making eye contact, and her body was tense. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Prudence,” Fiona said softly. She thought of what Cassandra had told her about Lord Lucien helping people and was glad he’d done so for Prudence. “I hope you’re happier here.”
Prudence looked up then, her gaze meeting Fiona’s. “I most definitely am. Perhaps I shouldn’t admit this aloud, but I just wanted a chance to be in Society, even though I’m not actually in Society, if that makes sense. I prefer it that way, actually. I don’t like to be in the center of anything.” Her shoulder twitched.
“It does make sense because I feel somewhat the same. Although, I suppose I don’t mind being the focus of attention, except that I have a tendency to be a disaster.”
“The queen’s drawing room was just one occasion.” Prudence gave her a small smile.
“True, but the Season is young yet,” Fiona said drily. And it seemed she was here for the duration, which still surprised her. She rather expected Overton to change his mind and return her to Shropshire anyway. In fact, if she inquired about Mrs. Tucket, he may just decide it was convenient to send them both.
“Good evening, ladies.” Overton’s voice drew Fiona’s attention to the doorway. He stood just inside the room, his gaze moving from Fiona, as if she’d caught him looking at her, to Prudence.
“Good evening, my lord,” Prudence said, setting her embroidery down in her lap.
Overton stepped further inside. “I came to inform Miss Wingate that her break from Society is over.” He looked at Fiona then, his gaze cool. “You’ll attend the Dungannon ball on Saturday. You must be on your best behavior, for Lady Dungannon is a Phoenix Club patroness.”
Meaning she had a great deal of power. Did that really matter to Fiona since she would not be attending the club’s assemblies? She couldn’t bring herself to ask. “Will you be coming to the ball?”
“Yes.”
She stared at him, wanting to ask again if there was anything she could do to repair the damage she’d caused to him. But she knew there was not. “I shall be an exemplary model of a young lady. My dancing form will be perfect.”
The corner of his mouth inched up, but he pressed his lips together and straightened. “Good. Have a pleasant rest of your evening.” Then he was gone.
Fiona stared at the empty doorway for several moments. Exhaling, she flipped open the book in her lap, looking for the page she’d left off on earlier. After trying to read the same paragraph three times, she snapped the book closed. “He’s still angry with me.”
“I daresay he won’t stay that way,” Prudence said. “He doesn’t strike me as someone who holds grudges.”
Except perhaps when it came to his father, but was it truly a grudge when the relationship was fraught? “He has every right to be angry with me.” For far more than Prudence knew, of course.
Prudence didn’t l
ook up from her embroidery. “No harm came of it—your reputation is intact. He’ll come around.”
Guilt weighing on her, Fiona blurted, “But his is not.”
“His reputation?” Prudence’s brow furrowed.
“I didn’t quite tell you everything that happened. I didn’t want to, but I need help. I don’t know how to fix this.”
“What did you leave out?”
“The part where Lord Overton was seen by one of the patronesses to be kissing a maid.” Fiona felt the heat in her face but didn’t look away from Prudence.
“He kissed you?” Prudence stared at her, her eyes narrowing in outrage.
“Not at first. I kissed him.”
“Are you very certain he did not take advantage? Men are inclined to do that.” Prudence pursed her lips.
“He did not take advantage. We were in the garden at the club. It was a…tense moment. I don’t really know why I kissed him.” Other than she’d simply wanted to. “I do know that it adversely affected his reputation, which he was trying to improve.”
“It should,” Prudence said firmly. “He shouldn’t have kissed a maid. Er, you.”
“As I said, I kissed him. And now he will continue to be seen as a rake.”
“Did he step away when you kissed him?”
“No.”
“Then he was an equal participant and deserves whatever judgment comes his way.”
“That hardly seems fair. I won’t suffer at all, apparently.”
Prudence stared at her a long moment. “I will never think this is an unfortunate situation. On the contrary, I revel in your emerging from this without any impact to your standing. It’s absolutely brilliant. We women must take whatever victories we can.”
“It doesn’t feel like a victory.”
“Trust me, Fiona. Lord Overton will recover. You, on the other hand, would not. At least not in the eyes of Society.” That was almost precisely what Mrs. Renshaw had said. They were both rather adamant in their statements, which made Fiona wonder about their past experiences. Neither could have been ruined for they wouldn’t be in the positions they were. Would they?
“But the earl is trying to find a wife, and this will have a negative effect.”
“Still his fault, not yours. Nor is it your responsibility to rescue him from his behavior—even if you could, which you can’t.”
So much for Prudence providing any assistance to help Overton.
Fiona stood. “I’m going to retire.”
“You’ve a caring heart, Fiona. I understand that you feel responsible for what happened at the club, but it wasn’t entirely your fault. Don’t carry a burden you don’t have to.”
“Thank you, Prudence.” Fiona retreated to her chamber, closing the door behind her. Setting the book on the table beside her bed, she considered Prudence’s counsel. While she understood what Prudence was saying, Fiona didn’t agree that it wasn’t entirely her fault. If she hadn’t been foolish enough to go to the club in the first place, none of it would have happened.
She would find a way to make things right with the earl. In the meantime, she’d ponder why she hadn’t simply ignored the impulse to kiss him. She’d found other men attractive—Lord Lucien, Lord Gregory. Even so, nothing about them appealed to her in the same way as her guardian.
In hindsight, Tobias should have insisted they skip the Dungannon ball. Between the rumors swirling about his debauchery with an “innocent maid” and the fact that Miss Lancaster was ill, and Mrs. Tucket was acting as chaperone, he should have realized it would be uncomfortable, to say the least. He only hoped it didn’t turn into a full disaster.
Really, could anything be more disastrous than what had happened at the club the other day? As soon as he’d entered the ballroom with Miss Wingate and Mrs. Tucket, he’d been aware of the stares and the whispers. He’d gone directly to the gaming room for a drink.
As he reentered the ballroom, he considered whether he should leave entirely. He shouldn’t abandon Miss Wingate, but she had Mrs. Tucket and Lady Pickering.
The latter woman saw him come in, her gaze meeting his and then narrowing. She left the group she was in and came striding toward him, her focus fixed entirely on him.
Tobias was reminded of how he’d felt when his mother had caught him pilfering cake from the kitchen. “Good evening, Lady Pickering,” he said brightly, hoping he might stave off a lecture.
It was, however, a foolish notion.
She steered him toward the wall. “You have quite bungled things.” She frowned at him, her green-blue eyes flickering with disapproval.
“Mmm.”
She cocked her head. “That’s all you have to say?”
He arched his shoulders. “What should I say?”
She exhaled and pivoted, her gaze surveying the ballroom. “It’s a pity, for I’d planned to introduce you to two women who are eager to wed. They are not, however, interested in marrying a rake. They’d like to find a gentleman they will love or at least hold in high esteem.”
Damn. “They sound like precisely the sort of countess I am looking for.”
“More’s the pity then.” She swept her head back to toss another glower in his direction. “A maid? What on earth were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t really.” Fiona had kissed him, and he’d temporarily lost his wits. Which was no excuse. He never should have kissed her back. He’d taken a bad situation and made it a thousand times worse.
He edged toward her, whispering, “Is it really that bad? It really was just a fleeting kiss. There was nothing more.”
“Well, I suppose that’s something. Except it isn’t to the masses. They would much rather recount your bad behavior over and over again, which ensures they all believe you were carrying on a torrid affair with a maid at the Phoenix Club.” Her brows elevated as she regarded him. “I might expect the mysterious membership committee to expel you.”
He wanted to assure her they would not, but that would only raise questions or suspicion. Besides, he was only one member. Could they vote to expel him?
“What if I told you she wasn’t even employed by the club?”
Lady Pickering’s brows went so high they almost disappeared into her hairline. “Is that true?”
He blew out a breath and directed his gaze to the dance floor where Miss Wingate was dancing. With Lord bloody Gregory. “It doesn’t matter.”
Tobias tried to find Miss Goodfellow, but it seemed she wasn’t in attendance this evening. He was disappointed, but at least she couldn’t overhear all that was being said about him tonight.
“Do you think my chances with Miss Goodfellow are ruined too?” he asked.
“It’s difficult to say. Her mother might cool toward your suit, but that’s because her father was a rector and she’s rather committed to her religious beliefs. On the other hand, you are an earl and neither of her other daughters married so well.”
“That tells me how Mrs. Goodfellow might think of me, but I am not marrying her. What of Miss Goodfellow?”
“Well, this is her fourth or fifth—sixth?—Season, and she is generally considered to be on the shelf. I am not sure she’ll have another Season after this. She would be a fool to decline your suit. Unless she doesn’t want to wed, which is sometimes the case with women who end up as spinsters.”
Tobias saw a chance to have his question answered. “How does a woman become a spinster? Is there some number of Seasons or some age that defines this designation? Why does it even happen? There is nothing about Miss Goodfellow that ought to suggest she isn’t marriageable.”
Lady Pickering stared at him as if he’d spoken a language she didn’t understand. “What a strange question. I suppose after a woman fails to marry, Society just thinks of her differently.”
“It’s ridiculous. At least with Society’s regard of me, I’ve done something to alter their perception or opinion.”
“Some would argue a young lady on her fifth Season with nary a proposal has done somethin
g. Perhaps it can’t be identified, but there is a reason she is not wed.”
“I still maintain it’s ridiculous. What if the young woman is shy or just hasn’t met the right gentleman?”
“Are you trying to decide if you should wed Miss Goodfellow? I don’t think it should matter to you that she’s on her however many-th Season.”
He gave her a wry look. “It absolutely does not. However, it may be too late. I called on her yesterday, and she wasn’t receiving. Perhaps her mother’s stringent opinions extend to her.”
Lady Pickering inclined her head in sympathy. “I am sorry to hear it. You’ll have to find another young lady who is in danger of finding herself a spinster. I shall search for a suitable candidate if you like.”
“I am good enough for women whom Society has deemed probably not good enough.” He shook his head in dismay.
“You could also take your time, do a better job of rehabilitating your reputation, and see what new crop arrives over the next few weeks.”
“I think I’d prefer a near-spinster.” And not just because he wasn’t keen to wed a young lady on her first Season.
None of that mattered since he was nearly out of time. His father had died December twelfth. Which gave him just fifteen days to be wed. Not identify a prospective countess but marry her. In a fortnight, he would be sharing his name, his home, his bed.
His entire body chilled. Not just because it was a daunting task, but because he couldn’t see it happening. Miss Goodfellow was pleasant, and he liked her, but to take her as his wife…
Once upon a time, he’d wanted to fall in love. As he’d told Fi—Miss Wingate, he had an ideal woman in his mind. However, his father’s demands had made any hopes or dreams Tobias possessed nearly moot. He began to feel morose about the entire situation.
“I’m not at all certain you should have brought Mrs. Tucket as Miss Wingate’s chaperone this evening.” Lady Pickering frowned toward the corner.
Tobias followed her gaze. Seated in a chair, head bent with her chin resting on her chest, was Mrs. Tucket, her eyes closed and her mouth hanging open.
