It didn’t bear consideration.

“Yes, I think so,” he managed, directing his mind to the question she’d posed. “I called on Miss Goodfellow, and we had a nice visit.”

Miss Wingate ran her slender fingers over the top of the pianoforte. “Does she play?”

“I don’t know. That topic didn’t come up. We mostly discussed the absurd war we just lost in America.”

“Did you? What an odd thing for a young lady to discuss with a suitor. Or so I’ve been led to believe.”

He snapped his gaze to hers. “Who told you that? It’s terrible advice. Don’t rely on the Fs for conversation.” He shuddered.

“The Fs?”

“Fashion, food, and flowers. It’s all most young ladies talk about. And the weather.”

“You won’t catch me discussing fashion. I can, however, wax rather effusively about Shropshire flowers. I tended a garden back home. What used to be home, anyway.”

Used to be. “You don’t think of it as home anymore?”

She exhaled and moved away from the pianoforte. “It’s difficult to think of a place as home when you don’t have family, and nothing really belongs to you. Home is solid and secure—permanent. I have felt rather transient in recent years. I suppose I still am.”

Tobias realized Horethorne was the place he recognized as home. He lived here and at Deane Hall, but his mother’s house, where he spent Yuletide and a few weeks in late summer, was where things felt most secure and…permanent. Which was why he’d never let it go.

He pivoted toward where she’d gone. “That’s a beautiful sentiment, albeit sad. I want you to feel at home here.”

She summoned a half smile. “I am as comfortable as I could possibly be. But this is temporary.”

“You do have family—your cousin and his wife. And Mrs. Tucket is somewhat like family, isn’t she?” The former maid had begun to assert herself as a kind of assistant housekeeper, much to Mrs. Smythe’s chagrin. If she didn’t stand down, Tobias was going to have to intervene. In fact, he should probably say something to Miss Wingate. Perhaps she could help.

“Yes, she is,” Miss Wingate answered. “My cousin and his wife, however, are not. We have never been close. Actually, I’ve only met his wife three, maybe four times in the three years they’ve been married.”

Tobias found that shocking. And horrible. Why didn’t they regularly invite Fiona to dinner at their house? He couldn’t send her back to Bitterley, knowing what she’d return to.

“It sounds as if things are going well with Miss Goodfellow then?” It seemed Miss Wingate didn’t wish to continue speaking of her cousin, and Tobias would respect that.

“I believe so, yes.”

“Did you call on anyone else?” Miss Wingate went to the settee where she gracefully sat at one end and arranged her skirt. She’d learned a great deal in the almost fortnight she’d been here. Perhaps she didn’t need a break from Society after all.

“Not today.” He deposited himself in the chair angled near her position, stretching his legs out.