Miss Wingate nodded. “I wanted to thank you for the book on Ptolemy. I’ve only just started it, but I’m already fascinated.”

Tobias grinned, glad she was finding it interesting. “Wonderful. I look forward to discussing it with you.” He thought of Lord Gregory and how they would likely suit. Then she’d discuss Ptolemy with him. For some reason, Tobias found that mildly disappointing.

“I would like that.” She fidgeted with her gown, her fingers pinching the fabric on the side of her knee. “I wondered if I might, ah, ask you about an allowance.”

Surprised by her question, Tobias didn’t immediately respond. He supposed he should have thought of that. “Is this so you can make your own wagers?”

Miss Wingate’s eyes widened briefly, and dots of pink appeared in her cheeks. “No. I mean, perhaps. Don’t young ladies receive allowances?”

He’d meant it in jest, but since they’d argued about it, he realized he perhaps should not have. “Pin money, yes. I will determine a fair amount and see that you receive it tomorrow.”

She smiled as her shoulders dipped with relief. “I deeply appreciate your generosity. Truly.”

“It was my father’s intent that you enjoy the best Season possible. And that you marry well, of course.”

“I will always wonder as to the source of your father’s largesse. My impression from you is that he was not a kind man.”

“I am baffled by it too, and I admit a part of me could have very easily ignored his wishes just to spite him. However, I shouldn’t want you to suffer because of the enmity between my father and me.”

“Why were you at odds?”

Tobias exhaled and pressed his back against the chair. “I was always closer to my mother. She spent most of her time at Horethorne, her grandmother’s house in south Somerset. Before I went to school, that is where I spent most of my time as well.” He closed his eyes for a moment and saw the swing that hung from the oak in the park, smelled the grass and summer flowers, felt the rush of warm air as he flew through the air, and heard his mother’s laughter as she pushed him higher.

“You’re remembering something,” she noted softly.

He opened his eyes to find her watching him intently. “Yes. I miss my mother very much. Perhaps the closeness of our relationship was a stark contrast to what I shared—or didn’t share—with my father. He was unflinchingly stern and demanding.”

“How long ago did you lose your mother?”

“When I was sixteen.” So long ago. “Nearly twelve years has passed.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m sure she was brilliant, since you loved her so much.”

“She was indeed. And how was your mother? You’ve already indicated your father wasn’t terribly fatherly, for lack of a better word. Seems our fathers had that in common.”

Tobias had a sudden thought. They were close friends and had remained that way since their Oxford days. That they’d been friends at all was surprising, given their backgrounds. He wondered what else they’d had in common. Perhaps their friendship had been very deep indeed. That might explain his father’s puzzling dedication to Miss Wingate, the only child of his close friend.