They kept up this patter down the corridor and into the parlor, where Tommy and her sister took their usual seats between the door and the sideboard. Chloe placed her basket on the floor next to their chairs and wandered about, greeting the other ladies in the parlor.
Tommy sat because she was Great-Aunt Wynchester, and Great-Aunt Wynchester had bad knees. And also because the lower angle of a chair gave her a convenient vantage point from which to watch Philippa without being conspicuous herself.
In the five long days since the outing at Vauxhall, Philippa had grown even more beautiful. Her white-and-pink round dress of jaconet muslin was flounced with lace and flowers.
Just the sight of her made Tommy happy, and not solely for her beauty. Tommy adored watching Philippa light up when talking to her friends. It was no wonder at all that these ladies preferred spending their Thursday afternoons in a parlor with Philippa to promenading about Hyde Park with the crème de la crème of the beau monde.
The ladies of the reading circlewerethe best of the best.Thesewere the people they most wished to converse with and to impress.
They certainly impressed Tommy. She had never seen so many intelligent and capable people all in one room. Chloe felt the same way, and she’d spent years spying on Parliament.
A familiar pair of calico ears poked out from beneath Philippa’s skirts. Tiglet wiggled his whiskers and gave a plaintive miaow, as though miffed that the ladies appeared more interested in books than kittens.
Philippa bent over, scooped him up, and brought him to her bosom without interrupting the heated discussion she was having with Lady Eunice about archery and fletchers.
Tommy couldn’t help but smile.
She needed a private conversation with Philippa. Great-Aunt Wynchester did not participate in literary arguments. Tommy’s tendency at the reading circle was to stay close to the dessert tray and toss out the occasional inappropriate comment in her best irascible-old-lady voice.
Today, however, her only aim was to present the peace offering she’d brought for Philippa.
Lady Eunice glanced at the clock in one corner. “Where’s Jessica?”
Florentia pursed her lips. “Running late like Gracie?”
This launched an immediate and lively debate between those who felt the reading circle’s scheduled hour was sacrosanct, and those who believed “out late kissing a rake” was a perfectly acceptable excuse for tardiness.
It was Great-Aunt Wynchester’s moment. The meeting hadn’t started, Philippa’s conversation with Lady Eunice was waning, and the others were distracted by the polemical Gracie discussion.
“Romantic gift, please.” Tommy held out her palm toward Chloe.
Chloe handed her the wicker basket.
Tommy pushed to her feet and bent forward myopically as she peered about the room.
“Miss York,” she quavered. “Might you show an old lady where to find the necessary?”
A brief frown lined Philippa’s brow at being interrupted. Great-Aunt Wynchester knew good and well where to find the water closet, and in any case, Chloe always helped her aunt when she got muddled.
Chloe, however, was far too absorbed in inspecting her fingernails to notice Philippa staring at her pointedly.
“Of course.” Philippa handed the kitten to one of her guests, likely for safekeeping. He couldn’t resist an open window. “Follow me, please.”
Rather than follow Philippa to the water closet, Tommy ducked into the empty dining room instead.
“Oh—not that way, Great-Aunt Wynchester.” Philippa reversed course and hurried into the dining room after Tommy. “This is where we dine. The necessary is—”
Tommy shut the door. Philippa’s mother was infamous for listening at the parlor keyhole when the reading circle was in session, but she had no reason to imagine the dining room occupied. Convincing the ladies to abandon their books was Mrs. York’s lifelong struggle.
Nonetheless, Tommy motioned Philippa away from the door and around the table where they had sat next to each other for tea.
“Great-Aunt Wynchester, really.” Philippa visibly tried for patience. “Surely you can see that this is a dining room, not a water closet. I know you’re not as vacant as you pretend. Is this about Damaris’s case?”
Philippa was simply too adorable. Tommy could barely look at her without remembering what it was like to kiss her, and battled the urge to grab her and kiss her all over again.
But definitely not as Great-Aunt Wynchester.
“It’s me,” Tommy said.
