“I forbid you from touching any of my animals, ever.” Jacob ignored the chairs and the sofas and settled on an unchalked patch of slate instead.
Elizabeth and Marjorie encircled him and his hedgehogs with rolled blankets, creating a makeshift pen.
Graham threw himself into a chair and opened a broadsheet as though the spectacle before him was as interesting as waiting for a kettle to boil.
“Are you reading the personal advertisements?” Tommy asked.
“What else? The news isn’t interesting,” Graham answered. “I learned all the good bits before breakfast.”
“And regaled us with every minute detail,” Elizabeth said, sotto voce.
“You eat breakfast together?” Longing shot through Philippa. It sounded chaotic and wonderful.
“Every meal when we’re home at the same time,” Tommy answered. “Some appear at the table with their gossip or their osprey, but the rest of us are civilized.”
“I’m not civilized,” said Elizabeth. “I resent that accusation.”
“Osprey?” Philippa asked doubtfully.
Jacob glanced up from his hedgehogs. “A large bird of prey with a wingspan of six feet and a lifespan of ten to twenty years, in danger of being hunted to extinction here in England. I rescued mine. Her name is Caelum.”
“I know what an osprey is,” Philippa said. “Should it be near Tiglet?”
“It shouldn’t be around any small animal you don’t want it to eat,” Jacob said. “Which is why I shall release mine back into the wild as soon as her wing heals.”
“Aargh.” Graham shook his broadsheet. “Why aren’t the secret messages ever interesting? Lady who lost her garter inside a catacomb, gentleman seeking same for friendship or more, coordinates for tracking a parcel, notice for a runaway bride: ‘Please come home; you can have your violin back.’”
“Those things…aren’t interesting?” Philippa managed.
“Bah,” said Graham. “Who hasn’t lost a garter or two? I’m waiting for someone to be kidnapped atop an unreachable spire, thus requiring my daring rescue.”
Philippa hesitated. “If the spire is unreachable…”
“Ignore him,” Tommy said. “He thinks all of that is fascinating, no matter his claims to the contrary. That’s why he never stops reading it.”
“I pause on occasion.” A book came flying out from behind his broadsheet. “There’s the intelligence on Northrup.”
Tommy caught it with her left hand and handed it to Philippa.
The last dozen pages contained an extremely detailed family tree, and the rest were filled with answers to every possible query anyone could think of to have about Captain Northrup. Philippa paged through it in wonder.
“He dislikes chocolate?” she asked.
Elizabeth shuddered. “He’s a monster.”
“We already knew that,” Graham said. “In fact, Northrup’s commanding officer, one Brigadier-General Boswick, doubted Northrup had invented the cipher on his own. According to my sources, Boswick made inquiries as to who might have helped, but nothing came of it. In the absence of evidence to the contrary, he and other doubters were forced to accept Northrup’s claim as truth.”
“Aargh.” Philippa clenched her fingers. “I know no one will listen to the unpopular opinions of a bluestocking, but—”
Another book came flying out from behind Graham’s newspaper. Tommy caught it with her right hand and handed it to Philippa.
Graham lowered his broadsheet. “You don’t think the intelligence you provide is just as valuable as mine?”
“No…I…” Philippa paged through the journal. Even her observations of the markings on her illuminated manuscript had been faithfully re-created, probably by Marjorie. All of the Wynchesters’ contributions were annotated. All of the Wynchesters…and Philippa.
Shewas important.Shehad contributed to the Wynchesters’ intelligence gathering. Her heart warmed.
“At the ball, I saw you stand for a set with Northrup,” Tommy said. “Did he say anything that might be of use?”
