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.
“That’s probably well and good,” she said. “Best to take your time with finding the right countess.” She smiled serenely. “When more people come to town, you’ll have an even wider selection of potential brides.”
He didn’t disagree, but he didn’t have the benefit of time. Nor did he like the idea of the Marriage Mart where he browsed young ladies like horses at Tattersall’s. Furthermore, he’d done that two years ago, and the results had been disastrous.
“I’m not sure I care to participate in the full-fledged Marriage Mart. Better to settle on someone soon, I think.”
“Settle? My lord, that doesn’t sound romantic at all. Surely you wish to feel something for your wife? Another reason to take your time, to allow emotion to root and bloom and flourish.”
He nearly laughed at her word choice, even as her perspective hit him square in the chest. He didn’t love Miss Goodfellow. Not yet anyway. “You’re using a flower analogy.”
“Oh dear, does that count as an F?” she asked in mock horror.
“I’ll allow it. And you’ll have to tell me about your Shropshire flowers some time.”
“Fritillaries, oh blast, another F, are my favorite. I love the checkered pattern on the blooms. They bloom in April and May. If you wait to get married until then, I could have some brought here for your bride’s bouquet.”
Was she trying to get him to put off his marriage? Why would she do that? Unless…
No, she couldn’t know about his father’s will. The only people who knew she stood to inherit Horethorne if Tobias didn’t marry within three months of his father’s death were his closest friends and his father’s secretary. Who was now Tobias’s secretary. Tobias had asked him if Miss Wingate would be notified of her potential inheritance, but Dyer had assured him she would not unless the three months elapsed before Tobias wed.
Tobias brought his legs up, bending them at the knee, and rested his elbow on the arm of the chair. “Why are you so interested in my marriage all of a sudden?”
“It’s important to you, and it does affect me.”
Tensing, he probed further. “In what way?”
“Your new countess will