“Why? Is there some publication where eligible young ladies are listed with their pedigree and monetary worth?” Anger bubbled inside her.

“Of course not. But when a young woman enters the Marriage Mart, certain things are shared.”

“So you shared—with who, the entire ton—that I have an oversized dowry?”

“I made it known, yes.” His brows dug down as his eyes narrowed. “That is how things are done, particularly when a young lady is not, as you put it, pedigreed.”

“I see.” She would never know if any man was ever interested in her for her or for the money she could bring him. Money that wasn’t hers, but with which she could change her life and be independent. Of course, women were never afforded that option. Just imagine if a father—or a bloody guardian—said, “This is your dowry, but if you choose not to wed, you may take it for yourself.” She nearly laughed out loud.

“You seem angry,” he said slowly.

“I feel trapped. I am utterly reliant on you and my future husband. I don’t even know what to do about poor Mrs. Tucket. She’d probably be happier back in Shropshire, but I can’t make that happen. I have to ask you or my husband to provide a retirement for her. Apparently, I have a dowry that I could use, except that I can’t because it isn’t really mine.”

Lines burrowed across his forehead. “You aren’t trapped. I am doing my best to give you the best opportunities.”

“As dictated by Society. I must learn to dance and how to behave so that I may find a husband.”

He frowned more deeply. “I also obtained books and maps for you, as well as a pianoforte. I’ve tried to give you things you’ve never had and that you clearly enjoy.”

Some of her ire dissipated, but the sense of being in a cage did not. She thought of returning to Shropshire with Mrs. Tucket, but she’d be without choices there too, since her cousin would marry her off just as Overton was doing. “I am grateful, my lord, for everything. And I shall repay you by marrying Lord Gregory, provided he proposes. It seems that is the preferred, and best, course. I bid you good evening.”

She turned and left the library without tidying the maps. Because to stay another moment in his presence might have completely broken her spirit.

After a particularly long day at Westminster, Tobias went directly to the gaming room at the Phoenix Club where, over the course of an hour, he lost a considerable sum of money. Most of it went to Mrs. Jennings, a sharp, witty widow around forty years of age.

As he took his leave of the table, she did the same. “You seemed distracted as we played, Overton,” she said as they walked between the tables.

Between his troublesome ward and his lack of marriage prospects, Tobias was more than distracted. One might even describe him as morose. “My mind is cluttered,” he admitted. “It was a busy day at Westminster.”