“I have returned every sword stick I’ve ever borrowed, and never in a condition soap and water couldn’t cure. If Elizabeth is disgruntled about anything, it is that she rarely has cause to use the hidden rapier.”
“‘Rarely’?” Philippa’s eyes widened. “You mean she really does attack people?”
“Only when they deserve it,” Tommy assured her.
They were ever so slowly drawing closer to the rooms of the Electi Society for the Intellectually Elite. Coaches occasionally passed, but she and Philippa were the only pedestrians on the street. It was impossible to know where Graham was at this moment. Somewhere on the roofs overhead. He’d identified a likely entrance point days ago.
“‘Intellectually elite,’” Philippa muttered. “All they do is smoke cigars and drink port. I’d like to exchange all of the books in their library for replicas with blank pages and see how long those pretentious geniuses take to notice the difference.”
“That is good to know,” Tommy murmured back. “I was wondering what gift to give you for Christmas.”
“You have already given me the perfect gift,” Philippa said. “You trusted me enough to include me in your plans, and you allowed me to take part in the adventure.”
Yes, and it terrified Tommy.
Not just because she had never invited a non-Wynchester into their tight circle, but because if something went wrong, the consequences for Philippa could be catastrophic. If her reputation was ruined and her parents disowned her, Tommy would of course offer her a home. But she wanted tobePhilippa’s choice, freely given. Not as a last resort when all else failed.
“Thank you again.” Philippa smiled up at her. “For including me. You are the most skillful and daring person I know. I long to be remarkable, too.”
Tommy’s chest constricted with conflicting emotions. Of course Philippa deserved to be in charge of her own life. But along with the very practical reasons against bringing her into an illegal scheme, she had just given Tommy a new worry.
If Philippa did everything Tommy did, then Tommy wouldn’t seem special anymore. What if allowing Philippainended up pushing her away?
A wiry man with a tall top hat emerged from the Athenaeum. He turned to look up and down the cobblestone street. He blinked when he saw Tommy and Philippa.
Quickly, Tommy banged her cane on the pavement. “I say no winter was better than the one in ’88. ’Twas the best Frost Fair the Thames ever had.”
“Pah, you old fool,” Philippa replied. “Last winter was the best winter. It dragged on for a year and a half. Clearly it is the winner.”
“No, the Frost Fair.” Tommy shook her cane belligerently. “No winter can be the best winter without elephants crossing a river, I always say.”
“You always say a load of poppycock, is what you always say.” Philippa shook a crooked finger. “A Frost Fair might make the wintertimeamusing, but the Year Without a Summer by definition excelled at beingwinter. It was indubitably the wintriest winter that ever wintered.”
The gentleman in the tall top hat climbed into a hackney and rolled off down the street.
Philippa burst into giggles.
Girlish giggles coming from a face that appeared a hundred years old should have been incongruous.
Instead, they warmed Tommy’s heart.
She hoped Philippa would still giggle when she got away with naughtiness, no matter how many years passed by. It made her look youthful despite the wrinkles lining her face. Tommy could barely look at her without wanting to kiss her. She suspected that feeling would never go away. Philippa would be just as alluring as an old woman as she was as a young lady.
“Do you think your brother is inside yet?”
Tommy consulted her pocket watch. “He’s inside. He’s looking for the library.”
“What if the library is locked?”
Tommy leaned casually against the red brick of the Electi Society building. Just an old man catching his breath. “Graham has tools to help. He can’t scale walls and leap from building to building with an illuminated manuscript under one arm”—she gestured at Philippa’s basket, which contained the replica Marjorie had made—“but he has a leather belt with secure pouches for carrying small things.”
“I hope these manuscripts prove what I think they do,” Philippa whispered.
Tommy didn’t address the unspoken questions.
What if the manuscripts proved useless? What if Graham’s network found no evidence to support Damaris, and Northrup was honored for deeds he did not perform? What if, in the absence of a comeuppance, Philippa’s parents married her to Northrup after all?
Tommy wanted to hold Philippa tight while she still could. To make the most of what little time they had together, whether it was months or weeks or days.
