Why his father was so willing to invest in this young woman was baffling. Tobias supposed it was simply because of the affection he bore Miss Wingate’s father, but since Tobias had never witnessed any sort of warm feeling from him—toward anyone—it was hard to believe. Or perhaps it was only difficult to accept that he’d apparently liked his friend from Oxford better than his own family.

Lord and Lady Edgemont greeted them in their grand staircase hall.

“So many lovely young ladies having their first Season,” Lady Edgemont exclaimed after meeting Miss Wingate. “You shall have a hard time choosing a wife, Lord Overton!”

He smiled blandly before offering his arm to Lady Pickering so they could climb the stairs to the ballroom. Or what was likely, in a house this size, a drawing room and another chamber opened up together to create something approaching the breadth of an actual ballroom.

“How did Lady Edgemont know I am in search of a wife?” he whispered to Lady Pickering.

“Because you are.” She sent him a scolding look. “Why else would you be back in Society after your…respite?”

The word respite made his activities seem positively benign. “It’s obvious I am looking for a countess?” He’d hoped to conduct his search without the pressure of Society watching his every move. But Lady Pickering was right—his return to Society after nearly two years of skirting the edges would be noted. And questioned. And endlessly remarked and speculated upon. He groaned inwardly.

“It is the logical conclusion. Particularly since you have recently inherited the earldom.” Lady Pickering pressed her lips together. “On second thought, perhaps people won’t make that assumption. Logic isn’t found in the greatest abundance in the ton.”

Tobias grinned as they reached the drawing room. There were already a few dozen people in attendance, and the musicians were warming up.

Lady Pickering looked back at Miss Wingate and Miss Lancaster and inclined her head toward the wall where a tall window looked over Charles Street below. A line of carriages moved slowly beside the pavement.

“Now, Miss Wingate, do remember everything we discussed. You must accept every invitation to dance until your card is full.”

Miss Wingate nodded.

“Are you feeling nervous?” Lady Pickering asked.

“Only about some of the dances.”

Apparently, her mother had taught her to dance, but with no occasion to practice or become proficient, the lessons had faded from Miss Wingate’s memory. Resultingly, she’d spent yesterday afternoon and a good portion of today with a dancing master.

Lady Pickering gently patted her arm. “You’ll do fine. Now, let us make the rounds and do your best to remember everyone’s name.”

Tobias again escorted Lady Pickering as they circulated the room, introducing Miss Wingate—and Miss Lancaster as her companion—to everyone they encountered. The higher the rank, the longer they stayed to converse. By the time they’d nearly reached the door again, Miss Wingate had received four invitations to dance. Then the music started, and Mr. Mansfield came to lead her onto the floor.