“But the earl is trying to find a wife, and this will have a negative effect.”

“Still his fault, not yours. Nor is it your responsibility to rescue him from his behavior—even if you could, which you can’t.”

So much for Prudence providing any assistance to help Overton.

Fiona stood. “I’m going to retire.”

“You’ve a caring heart, Fiona. I understand that you feel responsible for what happened at the club, but it wasn’t entirely your fault. Don’t carry a burden you don’t have to.”

“Thank you, Prudence.” Fiona retreated to her chamber, closing the door behind her. Setting the book on the table beside her bed, she considered Prudence’s counsel. While she understood what Prudence was saying, Fiona didn’t agree that it wasn’t entirely her fault. If she hadn’t been foolish enough to go to the club in the first place, none of it would have happened.

She would find a way to make things right with the earl. In the meantime, she’d ponder why she hadn’t simply ignored the impulse to kiss him. She’d found other men attractive—Lord Lucien, Lord Gregory. Even so, nothing about them appealed to her in the same way as her guardian.

In hindsight, Tobias should have insisted they skip the Dungannon ball. Between the rumors swirling about his debauchery with an “innocent maid” and the fact that Miss Lancaster was ill, and Mrs. Tucket was acting as chaperone, he should have realized it would be uncomfortable, to say the least. He only hoped it didn’t turn into a full disaster.

Really, could anything be more disastrous than what had happened at the club the other day? As soon as he’d entered the ballroom with Miss Wingate and Mrs. Tucket, he’d been aware of the stares and the whispers. He’d gone directly to the gaming room for a drink.

As he reentered the ballroom, he considered whether he should leave entirely. He shouldn’t abandon Miss Wingate, but she had Mrs. Tucket and Lady Pickering.

The latter woman saw him come in, her gaze meeting his and then narrowing. She left the group she was in and came striding toward him, her focus fixed entirely on him.

Tobias was reminded of how he’d felt when his mother had caught him pilfering cake from the kitchen. “Good evening, Lady Pickering,” he said brightly, hoping he might stave off a lecture.

It was, however, a foolish notion.

She steered him toward the wall. “You have quite bungled things.” She frowned at him, her green-blue eyes flickering with disapproval.

“Mmm.”

She cocked her head. “That’s all you have to say?”

He arched his shoulders. “What should I say?”

She exhaled and pivoted, her gaze surveying the ballroom. “It’s a pity, for I’d planned to introduce you to two women who are eager to wed. They are not, however, interested in marrying a rake. They’d like to find a gentleman they will love or at least hold in high esteem.”