“Attempts?” Philippa scoffed. “If monks still penned illustrated manuscripts, the stories would all be about your family’s endless escapades helping the helpless and righting wrongs. It must be marvelous to be a Wynchester.”
Tommy’s chest filled with love for her siblings. “I sometimes think I am the luckiest person in all of England.”
The waltz came to a close. The next song was to be a country dance involving several sets of partners.
“Shall we join them?” Philippa asked.
They could. But Tommy wasn’t ready to share Philippa with others just yet. The question was whether Philippa felt the same way.
Tommy gave her most wolfish leer. “How about a turn through the garden instead?”
“Classic,” Philippa breathed. “Everyone will think you’re angling to steal a kiss.”
Stealing a kiss was a splendid idea. The idea that Philippa was still thinking about how best to attract someone else…less so.
“The garden doors are open,” Tommy said. “Come with me. If you get cold, I’ll warm you up.”
Philippa’s forehead furrowed. “You mean you’ll loan me your coat?”
“Yes,” Tommy agreed. “That is the contingency plan.”
A thick border of tall, leafy trees enclosed the small, well-trimmed garden. The sun had long since set, so it was impossible to detect any bursts of autumnal yellow and orange among the green. Clouds diffused the moonlight, bathing the garden in a hazy, magical glow.
The trees blocked the wind, but the cold was already seeping through her clothes. They wouldn’t be able to stay outside for more than a few moments.
Tommy touched Philippa’s side.
Philippa gasped and froze.
Tommy’s hand was exactly where it had been while they were waltzing. Its position was neither salacious nor improper—during a waltz. It was not at all the same out here in the garden, where the loudest melody was the arrhythmic beating of one’s heart. Tommy brought her free hand to Philippa’s, cradling it for just a second.
She wanted to create a mental map of every facet of Philippa to remember her by. Every dip and curve, every hidden freckle, every blond curl, every expression. Tommy wanted all of it, to hold on to the knowledge in her mind, even after all that was left in her life was a memory. She knew Philippa’s face as well as her own, had admired her silhouette from every angle. And now she knew how it felt to dance with her, what her hand felt like in Tommy’s. Even if it was all she would ever have. Tentatively, she gave Philippa’s fingers another light caress.
Philippa neither jerked back nor leaned closer. She did not slap Tommy’s hand away, nor respond in kind. It was impossible to say what Philippa wanted or whether she understood the question Tommy was asking.
Philippa just stared back expressionlessly.
Tommy felt her rakish confidence evaporate. Shewasn’ta baron. Playing the part for a few weeks was well and good, but she had no wish to do so the rest of her life. Bean was Baron Vanderbean. She liked being Tommy. She wantedPhilippato like Tommy. But this was neither the time nor place. They could not risk someone stumbling upon them.
What they needed was privacy. A place no one could interrupt them.
And then Tommy could see about stealing a kiss.
Reluctantly, she led Philippa back inside the ballroom. Warmth washed over them—as well as a wave of whispers.
“Men,” Philippa said in surprise. “Gentlemen.Do you think they’re talking about me?”
“Mayhap.” Tommy wasn’t certain which possibility to wish for. Her jaw hardened. “Those prigs are dreadful gossips. They said Baron Vanderbean is the only acceptable Wynchester. They said the rest of my siblings are worthless ragamuffins who ought to be tossed in the street. They said—”
Did her voice just wobble? Oh God, her throat had gone scratchy. Tommy clicked her teeth closed and stopped speaking, lest any more unwanted divulgences leak out.
“They’re imbeciles,” Philippa said flatly. She held on tighter to Tommy’s arm. “I’ve committed their names and faces to memory. They will not be receiving smiles or dances or anything else from me.”
“You can’t say that,” said Tommy. “What if one of them is your future husband?”
“He ceased being a contender the moment he insulted your family.”
If that was true, Tommy had bad news for Philippa about the entire rest of the beau monde.
