And yes, he supposed he did want to fall in love. Or at least develop some sort of affection for the woman who would be his wife. He didn’t want a cordial but dispassionate union like that of his parents. They’d both been happier when the other was someplace else. That was why he’d spent so much time with his mother—just the two of them—at the house she’d inherited from her grandmother.

Lucien cupped his hands around his glass on the table and leaned forward, his dark gaze on Tobias. “This is a wonderful plan but, forgive me for asking, are you certain you’ll receive the invitations you need to accomplish this feat?”

Since he’d reinvented himself as a rogue, his invitations were not always of the best caliber. He hadn’t cared. In fact, he’d reveled in his ignominy, particularly because it had irritated his father, who’d tried to press him into an unwanted marriage after he’d been jilted by Priscilla.

But now his reputation mattered. He could practically hear his father chortling from beyond. Indeed, he’d probably anticipated this problem when he’d changed his will. Which meant he expected Tobias to fail and thus to lose his beloved mother’s house. And this was after he’d swindled the property from his father-in-law, demanding it as Tobias’s mother’s dowry. Tobias believed his mother’s bitterness toward her husband stemmed from losing the estate to him in the marriage contract. She’d often lamented that she wasn’t able to leave it to Tobias.

Yes, his father was almost certainly laughing.

Tobias curled his lip. “I’ve been on my best behavior since my father died. No gaming hells, no phaeton racing, and I gave up my mistress.”

“Have you?” Lucien asked. “I heard you were seen running from her lodgings just this afternoon.”

Glaring at Lucien, Tobias demanded, “Do you know everything?”

Wexford snickered. “Yes, he does.”

Lucien sat back in his chair. “Lady Pickering should be able to assist you, but you’ll have to do your part. The slightest misstep, such as continuing to see your mistress, and you’ll ruin your chances.”

“As well as that of your ward,” MacNair said rather unnecessarily.

It was too much. His father hadn’t even told him about Miss Wingate until he lay dying. He’d been the young woman’s guardian for two years and hadn’t said a word. Tobias wondered if he’d ever known the man at all.

“While you’re considering potential wives for me, I will also take suggestions on how to mend my reputation.”

“Align yourself with Lucien’s brother.” Wexford’s brows darted up as he exchanged a look with MacNair, who chuckled.

“Brilliant idea,” the Scotsman said.

Lucien groaned. “God, I wish that was a terrible suggestion. You do realize he’s mostly insufferable.”

Tobias couldn’t help smiling. The relationship between the two brothers seemed complex, but then Tobias had no siblings, so what did he know? “He’s always pleasant to me.”

Lucien grumbled something unintelligible before finishing off his brandy.

Wexford clasped his hands on the table. “A fortnight to secure a betrothal with the wedding to follow three weeks later. We’ll make sure you find a wife, Overton.”