Baron Vanderbean was the title that gave Tommy the freedom to flirt and dance and make a public claim on Philippa, temporary though it may be. Opportunities she would never have had acting like Miss Thomasina Wynchester, who would not have been welcome among the beau monde. In that role, she and Philippa might never have met.
Oh, if only she could just be Tommy and live as she pleased!
“Come along,” called Elizabeth. She and Marjorie led them past the statue of Handel toward the Dark Walk.
The magnificent Triumphal Arches soared up ahead. Tommydidfeel triumphant. She was here with her sisters and Philippa, away from the crowd and Mrs. York’s watchful eyes.
“Chloe mentioned you’re forbidden from making literary purchases,” Elizabeth said, wasting no time. “We can acquire the other three volumes for you. I’ll have Graham look for sellers—”
“I already did.” Philippa rubbed her temple. “My mother finally gave me permission to make an acquisition, but it’s no use. Northrup manuscript enthusiasts sold theirs years ago, to an individual who no longer resides at that address. No private collectors still own their copies.”
“No private collectors.” Tommy thought quickly. “What about public collectors?”
“I compiled a depressingly short list of eight organizations and universities with a Northrup manuscript in their collection, from Inverness to Penzance. Cambridge University…Carlton House…Most locations are forbidden to women or closed to guests, and all of them keep their illuminated manuscript collections under lock and key. You’d need an army to get past the guards.”
“You’re like a…bluestocking Graham,” Elizabeth said, impressed. “You would make a good Wynchester.”
Tommy ignored her sister. “Did you happen to bring that list?”
Philippa pulled it from her reticule.
Tommy tucked the list into her coat pocket to look over later.
“Now all we need are counterfeit copies.” Elizabeth looked at Marjorie.
“You want me to forge four illuminated manuscripts?” Marjorie said, incredulous.
“Just three,” Elizabeth reassured her. “Philippa already has one.”
Marjorie stared at her. “Do you know howlongit takes master artists to create each illuminated manuscript? You expect me to just dash a few off in my spare time?”
Elizabeth lifted a shoulder. “It didn’t take you long to forge the painting Chloe stole from the Yorks’ house.”
Philippa tripped and hurried to catch up. “Wait…What?”
“Very well,” Marjorie said with a sigh. “If Philippa can part with hers, I could create rough copies. They wouldn’t fool anyone who looks carefully, but could replace the original on a shelf if no one is paying close attention.”
“What painting did Chloe steal?” Philippa demanded.
“Robin Goodfellow,” Elizabeth answered absently. “The one Chloe’s husband gave you as a courting gift.”
Tommy tightened her lips at the reminder.
“Oh…all right.” Philippa fell back to Tommy’s side without further questions or comment.
“You didn’t want our painting anyway,” Tommy reminded her.
“I remember.” Philippa did not look upset at the theft. Nor was she looking at Tommy. She kept her gaze straight ahead, as though hoping she need never again discuss the Duke of Faircliffe or any of her other suitors’ attempts to woo her.
Or possibly…hoping she need never suffer any othergentleman’s attentions?
“I can also rebind your manuscript, if you’d like,” Marjorie offered.
“I trust you to take good care of art,” Philippa admitted. “So, yes, that would be wonderful. I am happy to pay for the work.”
Marjorie shook her head.
“Unnecessary,” Tommy explained. “We don’t need your money.”
