“Why did she say you kidnapped her?”

“Because I offered to elope with her to Gretna Green. I was certain her father had pressured her to accept Bentley’s proposal. As the son of a duke, he outranked me. I had to know if the decision to choose him was hers, so I arranged to get her alone at a ball.”

“Isn’t that rather scandalous?”

He arched a brow at her and tried not to smile. “This from the woman who disguised herself as a maid and stole into a private club?”

She blushed. “And was the decision hers or her father’s?”

“Her father’s, but she seemed willing to do whatever he wished, like a good, biddable young lady who understands that a marital alliance is perhaps the most important thing she can do.”

Fiona made a face, her nose wrinkling as her mouth twisted. “How perfectly horrid. But isn’t that what you expected me to do?” She spoke softly, but the volley of words managed to pierce straight into his chest.

Wincing, he dipped his head. “Yes. I deeply regret it. I hope you’ll accept my apology. It is, unfortunately, the way of Society—for women and for men. Who I married was of the utmost importance to my father.”

“Was he angry when she chose to marry someone else?”

The old, familiar tension gripped Tobias, but only for a moment. With his father gone, he knew he didn’t have to suffer the man’s dissatisfaction anymore. “He was disappointed. Our relationship never recovered from that.”

“How come?”

Tobias gripped the top of the settee’s back as he recalled that night at whatever ball they’d attended. “When I suggested to Lady Priscilla that we elope, she was extremely titillated by the idea—not because it was a chance to marry the man she loved, but because it would spark notoriety and popularity. I saw my mistake in thinking she would be a good wife, and I encouraged her to wed Bentley.”

“You changed your mind?”

“Yes. She then told everyone that I attempted to kidnap her.” He made a sound of disgust low in his throat. “Most didn’t believe her, thankfully, but it was dodgy there for a while. I was given the cut direct on several occasions, and my father was furious with me. I was labeled a rogue, a scoundrel, and a rake—the worst sort of reprobate. I grew frustrated with everyone’s judgment, especially since I’d ultimately done the right thing. I decided to become what they accused me of.”

She was quiet a long moment. “I can’t imagine your father approved.”

“Not at all. He was livid. We didn’t speak for some time.” He looked toward the portrait of his father that hung on the wall to the left of the desk. In it, the former earl stood with his pony when he was about seven or eight years old. The portrait was his father’s favorite because of his love for the animal. Tobias had always hoped his father would speak to him with the same tender fondness with which he recalled his horse, but he never had. Now, Tobias wondered why he hadn’t removed the painting. Perhaps Tobias was still hoping, even now, to find some glimpse of affection from the man.