The ladies cooed at the sweet surprise.
Well, all the ladies except Philippa’s mother, who looked significantly less pleased with Tiglet than she had with her yellow rose.
“It’s a homing kitten,” Tommy said under her breath.
“A what?” Philippa whispered back.
“Let him out of a window if you need me,” Tommy explained. “It’ll be faster than sending a footman.”
Ahomingkitten.
Philippa stroked Tiglet’s soft fur in wonder. She had devised this encounter because she couldn’t send a simple letter. The gift was more than thoughtful—it was practical and useful. Releasing a kitten into the wild was something she could do from the privacy of her bedchamber.
But it also meant Tiglet was one more fun and adorable thing that Philippa wouldn’t be able to keep. Between now and the Prince Regent’s grand celebration, Damaris would have justice—or not—and Philippa would be betrothed. She would become mistress of someone else’s home, and Tiglet…would return to where he was loved.
“If you don’t want him…” Tommy said softly.
Philippa cradled Tiglet to her chest. “Too late. He’s mine for now.”
Tommy met her gaze for a long moment and then tilted her face toward Philippa’s mother. “This is such an elegant dining room, Mrs. York. I have never seen such lovely ceiling lunettes. And the trim…Is the ormolu door furniture original?”
Mother puffed out her chest. “Indeed it is.” She launched into a lengthy and completely fictive explanation of how she had chosen the house just for those specific features. “Philippa, show Baron Vanderbean the ormolu and the lunettes. But stay inside this room so we can see you.”
“Yes, Mother,” Philippa said obediently.
Tommy flashed her eyebrows. “Shall we stroll about the room conspicuously?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Philippa whispered.
She rose to her feet, the kitten nestled against her bosom, and made a big show of leading Tommy beneath this ordinary ceiling lunette, then that identical ceiling lunette.
When they reached the farthest point in the room from the chatter of the dining table, Tommy’s eyes glittered wickedly and she pitched her voice low. “Alone at last with my fair maiden. Put down the cat so that I can ravish you.”
“We’re not alone,” Philippa said, but her pulse skipped anyway. “There won’t be any ravishing.”
“Not tonight,” Tommy agreed. “Probably. Though I fear it is my sworn duty to change your mind.”
“Your sworn duty, or something youwishto do?”
Tommy’s grin only widened. “Ah. You have seen through me. I wish to ravish you for no other reason than the personal pleasure it would bring both of us.”
Philippa’s cheeks felt strangely flushed. “You needn’t play the rake now, when no one can hear you.”
“You can hear me,” Tommy said softly.
It was an act. Of course it was an act. But Philippa was reminded of that moment last night in the garden. There had been no music. Just moonlight, and the sound of the wind in the leaves. Tommy had touched Philippa’s hip, just as she had when they were waltzing, and for one dizzy moment Philippa had almost thought…
She cleared her throat. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I’ve been accused of worse,” Tommy replied, and tucked her hands behind her back.
Was it ridiculous to wish that Tommy had not hidden her hands away? That she might touch Philippa again, on the same sensitive spot on her side, just to see whether it would feel like last night all over again, or whether the magic had been a passing fancy?
“I found a letter in my manuscript,” Philippa blurted out. Books were a much safer topic.
Tommy gave her all of her attention at once. Or rather, Tommy had already been giving Philippa her full attention, but it sharpened somehow. As though Tommy were a wolf who had just caught the scent of her prey.
“Tell me,” she commanded.
