“We are all saving the day,” Tommy said firmly. “The Wynchesters are a family of knights of various colors and genders who save the day together as a team.”
“See?” said Elizabeth. “They should have let women write the tales of chivalry. The stories would have been so much better.”
Tommy’s heart warmed. She could not have asked for a better family than her motley siblings. Even when they argued, it was out of love. And when they joined forces against a common enemy…they were unstoppable.
She wished Chloe were here. It didn’t feel like “joining forces” without her. She was the one with the plans. Left alone, Tommy got into scrapes like…being Baron Vanderbean for three months.
That was someone else she missed deeply. The real Bean. Wearing his monogrammed handkerchiefs made her feel closer to him, but at the same time made his loss sharper than ever. The only reason Tommy could play this role for Philippa was because her adoptive father would have wanted Tommy to do whatever she needed to be happy. But no one could replace Bean. Not even “Horace” Wynchester. The loss would hurt less when she could take the costume off.
“We only have three months before Prinny’s party,” she reminded her siblings.
The seventeenth of January would be here before they knew it. In fact, Northrup could be granted his viscountcy beforehand. Graham’s network was gathering intelligence.
“I spoke to Damaris.” Elizabeth buffed the serpentine handle of her sword stick with a handkerchief. “She said she doesn’t need a room in a military academy named after her.”
Graham pulled a journal from his pocket. “What does she want?”
“Acknowledgment. A confession from Captain Northrup to his superiors that he stole her idea, followed by his complete and utter relinquishment of all undeserved glory, titles, or other accolades. And an apology would not go awry, either.”
“Oof,” said Tommy. “Her likeness on a plaque at a military academy would probably be easier. Any man shameless enough to steal his niece’s ideas for fame and fortune is not the sort of man who admits or apologizes for his actions.”
“Marjorie can create the plaque,” Graham suggested.
“No forgeries,” Elizabeth said. “If Damaris wants genuine acknowledgment, then she deserves to have it. The celebration should be in her honor, not Northrup’s.”
“We’ll have to force his hand,” Tommy said. The question was how. “If we can find the original plans Damaris drew up, can we prove it’s her handwriting and not his?”
“How do we prove which came first?” Elizabeth asked.
“Good point. They’re no longer using the cipher,” Tommy said. “The war is over. Old messages may no longer be guarded. If we can demonstrate Damaris easily deciphering one, that would prove her familiarity with the cipher.”
“Can’tyouaffirm she invented it?” Marjorie asked. “You’re in the reading circle.”
“It was long before Chloe and I attended,” Tommy explained. “Apparently Damaris showed Philippa first, and then the others. Theycouldcome forward and call Captain Northrup a liar—”
“But they’re women, and he’s Captain Northrup,” Elizabeth finished dryly.
“They could swear in a court of law,” Marjorie insisted. “Eyewitness testimony.”
“It will never come to that,” said Tommy. “As a viscount, can’t Northrup just claim ‘right of privilege’ and have the whole thing tossed out?”
Philippa had said she wanted to be part of the escapades. The difficulty was thinking up an escapade that would work. If Northrup could dismiss all charges with a wave of his hand, where did that leave them?
Elizabeth pulled a face. “Damaris said she instructed the reading circle to burn the instructions once they’d committed them to memory, which means she has no evidence of a prior cipher. More importantly, Northrup is her mother’s brother, and her mother would not forgive Damaris for bringing formal charges against him, no matter the outcome.”
“Captain Northrup won’t back down now that there’s fame and a title in his future,” Graham said. “Worse, he’s acting like he already has it. You should see all the purchases he’s made on credit in the past few weeks alone. He seems certain that where there’s a title, there’s a bride with a large dowry.”
“He’s probably right.” Marjorie set down her empty plate. “But we’re going to stop himbeforewe’d be dragging an innocent down with him.”
“Meanwhile…” Elizabeth pointed her sword stick at Tommy. “Baron Vanderbean has a romantic engagement he’s definitely not afraid of.”
14
Flower in hand, Tommy stepped out of her carriage and strode up the perfectly swept path of the York residence. The air was crisp and cool. Leaves were beginning to show signs of gold and orange. She had arrived to escort Philippa to a ball.
Tommy. Philippa. A ball.
It sounded like a fairy tale, and if there was one thing all fairy tales had in common, it was that nothing went according to plan.
