Agrin curved Tommy’s lips at the familiar sound of raucous bluestockings arriving for their Thursday afternoon reading circle.
Once the ladies were settled on the other side of the house in Philippa’s new library, their joyful, boisterous voices would no longer be heard from the sitting room, where Tommy was working on her maps. The cataloging system Philippa had created was phenomenal. Tommy now had several albums organized thematically. When they’d needed to infiltrate an auction house last Tuesday, it had taken mere seconds to pull the right maps.
With the new system in place, Tommy’s maps had multiplied. Thanks to Philippa, the Wynchesters could complete their missions more efficiently than before. There was even a new album dedicated solely to Philippa’s burgeoning network of community reading libraries.
Marjorie was in her third-floor studio, painting or forging heaven-knew-what. Jacob and Elizabeth were in the rear garden, practicing some sort of complicated and extremely ill-advised maneuver with swords and hedgehogs.
Graham was the only other sibling in the sitting room, sprawled in his usual sofa with a broadsheet in his hands. He must be hard at work. Every surface within reach was piled high with journals, correspondence, notes, crisp newspapers waiting to be read, and old newspapers blurred and soft from being read too many times.
“What are you looking for?” Tommy asked.
Graham lowered the broadsheet, his brown eyes sparkling. “News of the parcel.”
“The alleged mystery parcel alluded to only obliquely in otherwise innocuous advertisements?” Tommy inquired politely. “Are youcertainsomething nefarious is afoot? Perhaps you’re simply bored because we’ve found ourselves between adventures again.”
“Thereisa parcel.” Graham rubbed a hand over his black curls and let out a tight sigh. “Therewasa parcel. I am certain of it.”
“You suspected smugglers, did you not? Perhaps the contraband has reached its destination.”
“Smugglers don’t smuggle a lone package for a lark. They have bills of lading and illicit vendors and unscrupulous clients. I’ve found the trail. There is a mystery waiting to be discovered.”
“Well, if you need me, I’ll be—”
Tiglet jumped onto the table. His paws skidded toward an open bottle of ink. Tommy scooped the curious cat out of the way just in time.
“You’re grown now,” she scolded him. “No more making kitteny messes. Just for that, I’m taking you to your mistress.” But she snuggled him to her lapel all the same.
Quickly, she strode out of the sitting room and across the house to the new library, where the door was wide open. The dozen or so women inside were still waiting for Gracie, but they did not appear to be cross. Lively chatter filled the air.
A small gold plaque next to the door read:
The Agnes & Katherine Library
for women who can accomplish anything
The ladies had each donated copies of their favorite volumes. Philippa had used part of her inheritance to stock the rest. Every wall of the salon was lined floor-to-ceiling with bookshelves, with a ladder to reach the topmost titles.
The sideboard contained artful trays of libations and hors d’oeuvres—including pies.
Clad in her usual cloud of lace, with her heart-shaped face framed by golden ringlets, Philippa was easy to spot. She was deep in conversation with Florentia and Lady Eunice. At the sounds of footsteps approaching, she glanced up and smiled at Tommy.
Or perhaps her grin was at the sight of a calico cat burrowing inside Tommy’s coat, with only his furry behind and question-mark-shaped tail protruding out.
As always, Tommy’s heart warmed every time she glimpsed her.
The unused wing of the house felt alive again. This was Philippa’s home as well now, and already felt as though it had always been that way.
And Tommy’s chambers upstairs—er, that was,Tommy and Philippa’schambers—were the best rooms in the house. Philippa’s private study was fit for a queen. Tommy’s dressing room contained more disguises than ever, now that Philippa was taking part in the schemes. Their nights were spent in each other’s arms, and their days were spent in pursuit of their passions.
Rather than bother with society events, the Wynchesters threw their own parties, where Tommy and Philippa were free to dance as many sets together as their feet allowed.
Philippa now had a dedicated armchair in the Planning Parlor, and her personal reading nook in the sitting room. She spent hours working on parliamentary speeches with Faircliffe and creating pamphlets for social reform with Chloe, and spent just as much time having passionate discussions with Graham about the shocking lack of care some people took with their books.
“Miaow,” said Tiglet.
Tommy deposited the cat on the hardwood floor. He immediately darted through the skirts and slippers, making his way straight to Philippa. She scooped him up and winked at Tommy.
Sort of winked. Philippa was trying very hard to learn the trick of what she’d termed Tommy’s “rakish eyebrow wink,” but so far Philippa managed to look far more adorable than lecherous. Her friends thought the hapless attempts romantic. If Agnes and Katherine were alive, the bluestockings were certain their next grand story would be about Tommy and Philippa.
