He slowed. “Do you want to?”

Her eyes met his, and instead of answering, she continued through the open doorway out onto the terrace. Lanterns lit the walkways, and an oval pool in the center reflected the light. She’d somehow missed that aspect of the garden when she’d rushed inside with Mrs. Renshaw the week before.

“If there’s nowhere suitable for Mrs. Tucket at Horethorne, I will find a place for her at Deane Hall.”

Fiona paused near the pool. “You would do that?”

“Of course.”

“Your father’s support of me is such a mystery, and now you are continuing it. I will be forever grateful. And indebted.”

He shook his head and guided her along the pool, then veered away from it toward the wall that divided this half of the garden from that of the men’s. It was less illuminated here and more secluded.

“It is no longer a mystery.” He stopped and turned to face her. “My grandmother explained why our fathers were so close.”

Fiona withdrew her hand from his arm. She could just make out his features in the shadows. “Why?”

“They were lovers. Since Oxford.”

Sucking in a breath, Fiona felt as though she’d found a long-missing piece of a puzzle. “That explains why my parents’ relationship always seemed so aloof.” It also explained why certain pages of that book Fiona had found in her father’s library seemed more worn than others—specifically the ones with drawings of only men engaged in sexual acts. “Did they love each other?”

“They must have. Look at the lengths to which my father went to provide for your future.” He smiled. “I admit I was glad to learn my father had known love. I was also jealous, since he wasn’t ever able to bestow any upon me.”

Fiona reached up and cupped his jaw. “I’m sure things were very difficult for him.”

“Certainly, yes. I can’t imagine the life they were forced to lead. I am sad they had to live falsely, which perhaps resulted in our mothers’ unhappiness. However, without that, you and I would not be here. I must also admit that when my grandmother first began to reveal this to me, I thought she was going to tell me that we were somehow related.”

Gasping, Fiona took her hand from his jaw and covered her mouth. “Oh, that would have been awful.”

“I thought so too, but then I wondered if it mattered since it seems we do not have a future together.”

She lowered her hand between them. “Tobias—”

He put his gloved finger on her lips. “Just let me say one more thing. When I spoke earlier about the woman of my dreams, I meant you, Fiona. I love you, and not because you’re inheriting my mother’s house or because I desire you above all other women. Which, I do, by the way. I love you for your sweet nature, your inquisitive sensibilities, and your hunger for life. You make me laugh, provoke me to think about things I don’t usually, and you inspire me to be a better man.”