Tommy slid out of bed and returned with a small box.
Philippa sat up and opened it carefully. Inside was an elegant pocket watch on a gold chain. Her breath caught. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s synchronized to mine.” Tommy grinned at her. “Now that you’re officially a Wynchester, we cannot have our newest member arriving tardy to the family’s highly improper and occasionally illegal philanthropic adventures.”
Philippa pressed it to her chest, her heart overflowing with happiness. “Thank you so much. And…I think itistime. Before we can create a new life together, first I must put paid to the old one. I must inform my parents of my new address.”
As she rooted through the discarded clothing on the floor in search of her shift and plum underdress, her hands would not stop trembling.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“Please,” Philippa said with feeling.
This ought to feel joyful, like the moment she unmasked Northrup’s perfidy, but instead she was filled with dread. When she returned home, Philippa was going to break the impending betrothal to Lord Whiddleburr as well as her parents’ hearts.
Her palms were already sticky. But it was time to stand up for herself.
With Tommy at her side.
Tommy laced Philippa’s gown. “Who do you want me to be?”
Philippa looked over her shoulder at her. “Whoever you want to be.”
“To visit your parents?” Tommy thought it over before disappearing into her dressing room and emerging in shimmering celestial blue satin with matching lace at the hem, thin gold spectacles, and shiny brown hair styled with face-framing ringlets. She was positively gorgeous.
Philippa curtsied. “And whom do I have the pleasure of greeting?”
Tommy handed her a calling card. It read:
Tommy Wynchester
Bluestocking
Philippa burst out laughing. “You have cards that saybluestocking?”
“I have cards that say absolutely everything,” Tommy said. “Vintner, wax chandler, Royal Exchange broker, Duke of Wellington…”
Philippa lifted her lips to Tommy’s and gave her temporary bluestocking a thorough kiss.
When they clattered down the stairs, Elizabeth and Marjorie were just emerging from the direction of the sitting room. Tiglet pranced just beside them.
Elizabeth pointed at them with the tip of her sword stick. “Where are you going?”
“To confront Philippa’s overbearing parents. Well…” Tommy tilted her head. “Philippa is in charge of the confronting. I’m going for support.”
“I’ll go along to provide personal protection,” Elizabeth said.
Marjorie lifted a sketchbook. “I’ll capture the ambiance for posterity.”
“An image of Philippa standing up to her parents or of Elizabeth attacking them with her sword stick?” Tommy inquired.
“It will all be part of the same memorable moment,” Marjorie assured her.
Philippa scooped up Tiglet and grinned at Marjorie and Elizabeth. They hadn’t asked what, precisely, Philippa needed to confront her parents about or take a stand against. It didn’t matter. They were on her side no matter what.
“Tales of chivalry should be written about you,” she informed them.
Elizabeth looked thrilled.
