She would hope he didn’t find a wife soon.

Discordant notes from a pianoforte greeted Tobias as he entered his house and handed his hat and gloves to Carrin. “I hear it has arrived.”

“Indeed, my lord. It has been placed in the sitting room as you directed. However, it will need to be arranged in a more pleasing fashion.”

“Excellent.” Smiling, Tobias veered left into the sitting room that faced the street. The small pianoforte stood in the corner, awkwardly situated between other pieces of furniture.

Miss Wingate stood in front of it, her fingers picking randomly across the keys.

“A lovely melody already,” he said, drawing a gasp from his ward as she abruptly pivoted toward him. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I didn’t hear you enter over the noise I was making. A melody?” Her lips curved with amusement. “You’re very kind, particularly after I cringed at your humming.”

Tobias laughed. “True, I am quite magnanimous. Shall I hire a teacher for you then?”

“Surely I’m too old to learn.” She glanced back at the instrument. “I didn’t really think you were going to get one. And certainly not this fast.”

He shrugged. “Lucien had an extra.”

Her brows drew together. “Just a surplus pianoforte lying around?”

“Or something. Lucien is quite good at solving problems.”

“Was not having a pianoforte a problem?”

“Of course not, but when I mentioned I wanted to get one for you, he said he could have one delivered today.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“It was a surprise. I’ll inquire about a teacher tomorrow.”

“Do you play?”

“Only superficially. My mother was quite skilled. We used to make up silly ditties when I was a boy.” He hadn’t thought of those in years.

Miss Wingate smiled broadly. “About what?”

The words of one came back to him. “Frogs are slimy, and they eat flies. Birds are downy, and they just fly.”

She laughed, her eyes alight with mirth. “You were a true poet.”

“Why lie about such a thing when you were unflinchingly brutal about my abysmal humming?”

“Did I say it was abysmal?”

“You said something was abysmal, and since you compared me to a cat in heat, I think that’s probably accurate.”

“I did not say a cat in heat.” She held up her finger to make her point. “I said a cat in mourning.”

“I can’t decide which is more flattering.”

“Definitely the bereaved cat.” She turned back to the pianoforte and plucked out a few more notes. “Perhaps we can put on a musicale.”

“For those who can’t hear, I hope.”

She grinned. “We’ll make it for some indistinct future date. After we are wed.” She clasped her hands and faced him once more. “Did you make good progress on that front?”

Her comment about them both being married jolted him, for his initial interpretation was them married to each other. As if his reputation wasn’t bad enough. What would the ton say if he wed his ward?