Miss Lancaster dropped into an easy curtsey. “I have been eager to meet you, Miss Wingate. And to be of service.”

“I will let the two of you become acquainted,” the earl said. “Dinner is at eight.”

“So late?” Fiona asked. “Mrs. Tucket will be quite famished by then, I should think.”

“We don’t keep country hours here in town,” Overton said. “But we’ll do our best to accommodate Mrs. Tucket. I’ll see she has whatever refreshments she desires. As soon as she wakes,” he added.

“Where is her room?” Fiona glanced toward the door from which Miss Lancaster had emerged.

“Across the gallery overlooking Brook Street. I’m sure she’ll find it more than acceptable. See you at dinner.” He turned and left before Fiona could ask any more questions.

Instead, she addressed Miss Lancaster. “Is that your room there then?” Fiona inclined her head toward the door that didn’t lead to Fiona’s chamber.

“Yes. His lordship thought we should share this sitting room so as to form our, er, bond.” Miss Lancaster shifted her weight, and Fiona saw the crack in the woman’s façade. She was nervous.

Fiona relaxed, for she was nervous too, and it helped to know she wasn’t alone. It also helped that her new companion appeared to be just a few years older than her, rather than someone with several additional decades. Fiona loved Mrs. Tucket, but it would be nice to have someone young to talk to. “How old are you, Miss Lancaster?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Is that the age of most companions in London?”

“Er, yes?” Miss Lancaster sounded uncertain.

“You don’t know? I thought Lord Overton said you were an experienced chaperone.”

“Oh, of course. Just not here in London.” Miss Lancaster abruptly turned. “Come, I’ll show you your room. I’m sure you’re anxious to see it.”

“Thank you. I should like that very much, Miss Lancaster.”

The taller woman looked back over her shoulder. “Please call me Prudence.”

“All right, but you must call me Fiona then. Especially if we’re to be friends.” How she hoped they would be friends. Fiona hadn’t had one in a very long time. Not since Abigail Harding had moved to Ludlow after getting married four years ago.

Prudence’s gaze softened and some of the tension seemed to leave her frame. “I would like that.”

“Wonderful.” Fiona grinned and then gasped as she stepped into her bedchamber. It was more than twice as large as the one in their cottage in Bitterley on her cousin’s estate, perhaps three times, actually, and decorated in beautiful rose and gold. There was a large bed, a writing desk, a dressing table, and a grand armoire along with smaller dressers for her things. What she owned wouldn’t fill even a quarter of everything, but then she supposed her new wardrobe would.

Turning to face Prudence, she clasped her hands together. “I have so many questions but let me start by asking when we can go to Bond Street.” There were so many things Fiona was eager to do and experience. Why not start with something close?