“Splendid,” Lady Pickering said.

“I’m going to leave,” Tobias announced.

“Probably for the best.” Lady Pickering leaned toward him, her gaze dipping to his jaw. “Looks like you might have a bruise come morning.”

Fiona stepped closer to him and lifted her hand, as if she meant to touch his face. His eyes widened at the implication of it, here in the middle of a bloody ballroom where everyone had already been staring at him all night.

She seemed to realize the error too, thank goodness, for she quickly brushed a nonexistent curl behind her ear. “What happened?”

“Mrs. Tucket hit him when he interrupted her slumber.”

“Oh no.” Fiona winced. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“I’ll be fine.” He touched his jaw and easily found the tender spot. Yes, he may well have a bruise. A brilliant culmination to a brilliant few days.

If he could assume his bad luck was over. He probably should not.

Turning to Lady Pickering, he asked, “You’ll see Miss Wingate home?”

“Of course. Have a good evening, Overton. And behave,” she added in a reproving whisper.

Boring as that sounded, Tobias could do nothing else.

Chapter 14

The maid arranged the flowers Lord Gregory had brought and set them atop a side table in the sitting room. Fiona thanked her before she left, then returned her attention to her guest, who occupied a chair opposite the settee where Fiona sat. Prudence was present but removed from them in a chair near the window that looked out onto Brook Street.

Fiona surveyed the bouquet of daffodils and snowdrops. “Thank you again for the flowers, Lord Gregory. They’re just beautiful. I find daffodils so cheerful.”

“I’m glad you like them.” He sat straight in the chair, his frame stiff as if he might be a tad uncomfortable. One leg was slightly extended while the other was bent at the knee. He almost looked as if he were posing for a portrait. And what a handsome portrait it would be with his blond hair waving jauntily over his brow and his mouth drawn into a slight smile.

“It’s lovely of you to call today.” Fiona glanced toward Prudence, whom she could just see from the corner of her eye. She could not, however, offer any help. Not that she knew Fiona needed any. “You are my first caller,” Fiona said, deciding to be honest about her inexperience.

Lord Gregory’s smile widened. “You are my first call.”

Fiona laughed softly. “We are well matched then.”

“I thought so too,” he murmured.

Realizing the potential implication of what she’d just said, Fiona worried she’d made a mistake. She didn’t want him to think they were courting. Were they courting? What constituted a courtship exactly?

“I’m pleased to inform you that I’ve accepted the invitation to join the Phoenix Club. I am looking forward to the first assembly on Friday evening. You will be there, I presume?”

“Oh, well done,” she said, pleased that he’d taken her advice. “Alas, I will not be there.”