Marjorie smiled at her angelically. “It is.”
The carriage drew to a stop. Philippa’s stomach lurched. They had arrived at Grosvenor Square. The York town house loomed just outside.
Tommy helped Philippa from the coach. “We’ll be with you every step of the way.”
“If you require violence, just make the sign,” Elizabeth said.
Philippa held Tiglet nervously. “What is the sign?”
“Anysign.” Elizabeth patted the handle of her sword stick. “Blink if you want mayhem.”
Philippa blinked in surprise.
“Perfect.” Elizabeth unsheathed her sword. “I’ll attack first.”
Tommy pushed Elizabeth behind Marjorie.
“Keep her in check,” Tommy told Marjorie. “If she kills anyone, it will be your fault.”
She nodded. “I won’t look away, except when I’m drawing.”
Philippa giggled despite herself at their silliness. She knew they were doing it on purpose, to try and ease her nervousness. “Thank you.” She straightened her shoulders. “I’llattack first.”
She sucked in a deep breath and strode up to the front door.
Underwood welcomed her in with a distressed expression. “Your parents are in the cerulean sitting room.Together.”
Philippa’s eyes widened. It did not bode well that Mr. and Mrs. York were still in each other’s company—or had returned to the sitting room to continue arguing over their daughter’s fate.
“No swords,” she said to Tommy’s sisters. “Follow me.”
She marched into the parlor with her head held high.
“Where have you been?” snapped her mother.
“We’re here if you need us.” Tommy pulled her sisters to one side.
“Needwho?” Mother said.
“The Wynchesters,” Elizabeth answered helpfully.
“Philippa, these people are exactly what’s wrong with you,” Mother hissed.
“No,” Philippa said. “They’re exactly what’s right. Please convey my regrets to Lord Whiddleburr. I shall not be accepting his—or any—suit at this time, or at any time.”
“What?” Mother burst out. “We have spentall morningrefining the terms of your settlements—”
“Now you can keep the money,” Philippa said. “Not marrying me off will be economically advantageous.”
“Not if you’re upstairs spending our fortune on old manuscripts,” Father said from behind his broadsheet.
“Ah,” said Philippa. “That is where you’re in luck. I shan’t be upstairs at all. From this day forth, I shall be living with the Wynchesters.”
“You cannot be serious.” Mother let out a high laugh. “Darling, this is your final opportunity to be a lady. Whiddleburr is amarquess.”
“And yet,” said Philippa, “I find myself far more tempted by the idea of remaining a spinster for the rest of my days.”
“I told you we should have secured her acquiescence first,” Father said without lowering his broadsheet.
