“Because there is no reason to have a Season unless I intend to wed,” she said softly, her dark eyes glittering in the filtered light of the coach.

“Correct.”

She shifted her gaze to the window and folded her hands in her lap. “Then I appreciate your kindness in allowing me to adjust. I’m sure I’ll find my way, and when I do, my…enthusiasm for marriage will rise to the surface.”

Satisfied with her response, even if it had been sprinkled with sarcasm, Tobias settled back against the squab. He needed to speak with Lady Pickering. Miss Wingate required more guidance than he’d imagined.

And in the end, perhaps he’d end up shipping her back to Bitterley.

She was not going back to Bitterley.

Neither did she wish to marry. At least not yet.

Fiona had thought of little beyond those things since her frustrating visit to the museum the day before with her guardian. Not all of it had been awful. The hours in the map room had been absolutely sublime. That part truly had been her favorite day ever.

Until Overton had ruined it by being a dictatorial wretch.

Perhaps he hadn’t been that bad, but he didn’t understand her desire to simply enjoy her newfound freedom. It was as if she were a butterfly finally free of her chrysalis, and he meant to clip her wings.

Fiona frowned at his back as they walked into Lord and Lady Billingsworth’s house on Park Street for tonight’s musicale. Prudence gently touched her arm, and Fiona brought her features into a more serene expression. Or at least one that didn’t demonstrate her displeasure with her guardian.

Poor Prudence had listened to her lament. She understood Fiona’s need to find her place before she committed to marriage, even while she explained Fiona’s duty to wed.

Once they were inside and had given over their outerwear, they were guided up the stairs to the drawing room. At the top of the stairs was a long gallery filled with people. Fiona immediately picked out Cassandra.

“My lord, if you don’t mind, I’m going to speak with Lady Cassandra,” she said, provoking Overton to turn.

His gaze surveyed the gallery until he found Cassandra. “I’ll accompany you as I’ve a mind to speak with Aldington.”

Fiona suppressed her disappointment. She’d hoped they could go their separate ways once they got there.

“Oh, Fiona!” Cassandra greeted her with a wide smile, and they clasped hands. “I’m so pleased to see you. What a fetching gown.” Her gaze swept over Fiona’s pale yellow dress.

“Thank you.” She looked a bit enviously at Cassandra’s vivid blue gown. None of her dresses were that dark in color. Lady Pickering had said she must wear light colors. She had one purple gown that was her very favorite. It wasn’t dark, but the color was lush and vibrant. She was saving it for a special occasion, not that she knew what that was yet—perhaps her first ball at the Phoenix Club, for she was intent on going to one. Which meant she had to find an alternate sponsor for it.