Page 227 of From Rakes to Riches

The Phoenix Club, of course. He’d kept to the library the past few nights to avoid talking with anyone about the incident with a maid who wasn’t even a bloody maid.

Barbara’s. His former mistress would welcome him back eagerly. She’d continued to send him notes every few days, encouraging him to change his mind. Yesterday’s had been angry, however, as she’d heard about his affair with a Phoenix Club maid. She’d accused him of being a lying ass. Not Barbara’s then.

As if he would have gone there. She was no longer an option. When he thought of a woman who he wanted to spend time with, he increasingly imagined Fi—dammit, Miss Wingate. He thought of their charming discussions about maps and geography, teaching her to dance, listening to her learn the pianoforte. He thought of her hunger for life and thirst for information, and he wanted a first-row seat as she experienced everything she wanted, everything she felt her life had been missing.

When she’d kissed him, something had unlocked inside him. Now, he wanted his ward and having her was impossible.

Before he could retreat and leave as he should have, she was coming toward him smiling, her hand on Lord Gregory’s arm. Tobias deeply regretted not leaving.

“Thank you, Lord Gregory,” she said, taking her hand from his sleeve. Her cheeks were prettily flushed from their dancing. Her eyes were also alight, probably due to his charm or good looks.

“The pleasure was mine, Miss Wingate. I’ll see you soon.” He winked at her, then bowed his head to Tobias. “Lord Overton.”

“Lord Gregory,” he muttered as the man turned and walked away.

Fiona glanced toward the corner, then looked to Tobias in alarm. “Do you know where Mrs. Tucket is?”

“I sent her home.”

She stared at him in surprise. “Why?”

“Because she fell asleep and gave everyone in her vicinity an earful.”

Lifting her hand to her mouth, she looked at him in abject horror. “Oh dear. I am so sorry, my lord.”

He didn’t want her to call him that. He wanted to hear her say Tobias.

That was never going to happen.

Lady Pickering was coming toward them. Good. Now he could leave.

“Lady Pickering is going to act as your chaperone for the remainder of the evening,” he said.

“How was your dance?” Lady Pickering asked Fiona as she came up beside them.

“Lovely, thank you. I have finally mastered the steps. I didn’t tread on his feet once.” She looked quite proud, and while Tobias was happy for her, he was also disappointed that Lord Gregory’s toes hadn’t suffered.

“Splendid,” Lady Pickering said.

“I’m going to leave,” Tobias announced.

“Probably for the best.” Lady Pickering leaned toward him, her gaze dipping to his jaw. “Looks like you might have a bruise come morning.”

Fiona stepped closer to him and lifted her hand, as if she meant to touch his face. His eyes widened at the implication of it, here in the middle of a bloody ballroom where everyone had already been staring at him all night.

She seemed to realize the error too, thank goodness, for she quickly brushed a nonexistent curl behind her ear. “What happened?”

“Mrs. Tucket hit him when he interrupted her slumber.”

“Oh no.” Fiona winced. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“I’ll be fine.” He touched his jaw and easily found the tender spot. Yes, he may well have a bruise. A brilliant culmination to a brilliant few days.

Ifhe could assume his bad luck was over. He probably should not.

Turning to Lady Pickering, he asked, “You’ll see Miss Wingate home?”

“Of course. Have a good evening, Overton. Andbehave,” she added in a reproving whisper.

---