She’d just immersed herself in the topography of southern Europe when Lord Overton came in. At once, the air changed, filling with a thick tension. Her heart rate picked up speed.

“Good evening, Miss Wingate.”

She straightened in her chair at the table upon which the map was spread. “Good evening, Lord Overton.”

He strolled to the other side of the table. “I apologize for missing dinner again. I was caught up at Westminster.”

“No need to apologize. Speaking of apologies, however, Mrs. Tucket is keen to offer another one to you about the ball the other night.”

He smiled and ran his fingers over the faint bruise on his jaw. “She could have a future as a pugilist if not for her dependence upon the cane.”

“She would argue about the need for the cane, so please don’t tell her that.”

His brow arched. “You think she’d actually want to take up fighting?”

Fiona recalled the way she herded chickens and goats. It wasn’t fighting, but she possessed a temperament that was good at commanding others. Fiona imagined that would be a welcome quality in a fighting match. “I would not be surprised. More importantly, I think she would be frightfully good at it.”

He looked down at the map. “Topography of southern Europe?”

“I am trying to imagine how the French army invaded Portugal. Their path seems difficult.”

“It was.” He moved around the table and stood at the corner, rather near her. His fingertips traced over the Tagus Valley. “Napoleon wanted a shorter route, but it’s more remote and rugged.”

“I close my eyes and try to imagine how it looks.”

“There are drawings, I’m sure. Perhaps those are the books we should look for next.”

He spoke as if they would be together like this for some time. They would not, of course, since they would each likely be wed in the short term.

She tipped her head back to look up at him, only to find his gaze on her instead of the map. He took a few steps to his right—away from her.

“I came to tell you that I’ve changed my mind about the Phoenix Club assembly. We’ll go on Friday.”

She bolted from the chair in surprise. “Why?”

“I heard Lord Gregory accepted his invitation. I thought you might want to attend the ball since he’ll be there.” He focused his attention on the map.

Confusion swept through her. “You keep changing your mind about me. I mean, about things I’m allowed to do.” She added the last in a rush, thinking the first thing she’d said could be interpreted in multiple ways. Perhaps she should take more time to consider her words since she seemed to be doing that often. At least today.

“It seems Lord Gregory is courting you.” He flicked a glance toward her. “You like him, don’t you?”

“I do,” she responded. Had Prudence said something to him? How else would he know about Lord Gregory accepting the invitation?