Tobias pressed his palm more firmly against her back, and it was hard not to recall his touch upon her the night before. She tried not to shiver and failed. His pupils darkened, and she knew he’d felt it. “Tell me why you think my grandmother provoked me to dance with you.”

“It wasn’t about you. She was not in favor of Lord Gregory’s courtship. I wondered if she asked you to prevent me from spending time with him. It seemed a logical conclusion since you’ve never asked me to dance before.” He had though. “At least not in public.” She ought to look away from him because the intensity of his gaze was making it hard for her to focus on the waltz.

She did not.

“What is her quarrel with Lord Gregory?” Tobias seemed to hold his breath a moment.

“She never actually said, only that I could do better. She did, however, say quite plainly that she was not in favor of the match. I still don’t understand.” Fiona frowned. “Lord Gregory comes from an excellent family, and he’s a very kind and interesting person.”

“To you, he’s a good match.” Tobias broke eye contact, and she suddenly felt off-kilter. She clasped his hand and shoulder more tightly. “If you think you’d be happy with him, you should marry him.” Tobias sounded strained, as if he struggled to force the words out. Was he upset?

Why shouldn’t he be? He’d proposed marriage to her last night, and she’d refused him. Just as Lady Bentley had done two years before. Even worse, now he was also facing the loss of something he deeply cherished.

Her chest squeezed as she thought of how he must be feeling. Yet here he was at this assembly, and in what seemed to be a good mood. She wondered if there was a reason for it. “I saw Miss Goodfellow a short while ago. I’m surprised you didn’t waltz with her.”

His gaze found hers once more, and there was a warmth to the pewter depths that made her heart beat a little faster. “I have no intention of dancing with Miss Goodfellow or anyone else this evening. I came tonight to see you enjoy this ball that you’ve been so looking forward to, and to tell you I’m not getting married before the twelfth. Horethorne will be yours.”

She missed her step, but he held her fast, keeping them from faltering as he continued to steer them behind the couple in front of them. Had she heard him right? She can’t have. “You’re giving up?”

“Not at all. I’m choosing not to allow my father’s control to guide me. I was approaching marriage the way he wanted me to—as a business arrangement—instead of the way I wanted to.”

Her breath tangled in her throat. “And what way is that?”

“With love and hope for a happy union. With the woman of my dreams.”

The ache in her chest grew more pronounced. “Oh, Tobias. That’s lovely.”