“Because they weren’t right foryou. A wallflower as shy and awkward as you are needs a title as a shield. You won’t always have me to protect you. Your name has to be protection itself.”
“But Captain Northrup—”
“—is the first man that actually suits you,” Mother finished. “He’s new to the title, which means he’s not been drilled with a lifetime of expectations of what his future viscountess must be like. He’ll be honored by the Prince Regent himself, which makes Northrup’s reputation the opposite of those disreputable Wynchesters. Of equal import, Captain Northrup enjoys puzzles and books and illuminated manuscripts. Just likeyou, darling. It’s a perfect match!”
Of equal import.
Mother considered Philippa’s future husband’s opinions about books and puzzles to be of equal importance to his reputation and title.
Philippa’s stomach twisted with guilt. Her parents weren’t punishing her. All ton mothers wanted a titled suitor for their daughters. Philippa’s parents believed they were doing her a favor. In their way, they were trying to ensure their daughter had not just a title, but a happy life.
“I will make the best match that I can,” she promised her mother. It wouldn’t be Northrup, but if her parents could compromise in order to make Philippa happy, she could do no less for them. Perhaps she could find a gentleman who shared Tommy’s qualities. And if not…
Betrothed, Philippa could see her reading circle again. Her throat grew thick. Although not all were “shy and awkward” like she was, her friends counted on those cherished hours together as much as she did.
There was Lady Eunice, whose titled parents pinned even more hopes on their spinster daughter than Philippa’s did on hers. At home, Florentia was considered the unmarriageable sister and advised never to call attention to herself. She flourished in the reading circle with her fellow bluestockings. Jessica had been dragged along by Gracie, only to discover wine and books and debate and charity work the highlight of her week. Sybil, whose home was unpredictable, clung to charts and schedules, doing her best to ensure this group of friends was the most stable thing in her life.
“Straighten your shoulders,” Mother hissed. “Captain Northrup is walking in our direction.”
Philippa straightened obediently. “Captain Northrup hasn’t spoken to me since my come-out. He won’t start now.”
That was the one silver lining. Northrup was as disinterested in Philippa as she was in him.
“Pinch your cheeks,” Mother whispered.
Philippa did not pinch her cheeks. Northrup was going to walk right past them to the card room and—
“Mrs. York, Miss York.” Northrup made a bow, then held out his hand to Philippa. “Might you honor me with the next waltz?”
Bloody hell.
Northrupwasinterested. And she was forbidden from seeing Tommy for an entire month.
22
Philippa poured a dram of milk into a bowl for Tiglet before the maid removed the breakfast tray. Although he was hiding under a piece of furniture, she was comforted knowing he was somewhere in the room.
Breakfast in bed was supposed to make one feel cosseted, but for Philippa it had always been…lonely.
For the past fortnight, her habit of rising early and alone had improved immeasurably with the company of a naughty kitten. Tiglet enjoyed waking her up by pawing at her hair or settling on the adjacent pillow to stare at her, so that the first sight when she awoke was the kitten’s enormous eyes, inches from her own.
Other mornings, like this one, Tiglet slept late, often tucked out of sight beneath Philippa’s dressing table or her bed or the wardrobe.
Philippa could not sleep. When she did, she dreamed of Tommy. She ought to have been dreaming of how to decipher the markings on the edges of the manuscripts. But they only reminded her of how isolated she was from Tommy. Even if Philippa could concentrate long enough to discover something, she had no way to send word. Mother had halted outgoing correspondence until Philippa was properly betrothed.
She wasn’t just prohibited from hosting her Thursday afternoon reading circle. She was cut off from her friends altogether. Even Great-Aunt Wynchester.
Philippa moved her stool a little closer to her dressing table and looked at the illuminated manuscript before her. It was in splendid condition. So splendid, she was hesitant to poke at the sturdy binding even with a gloved finger. There was no way to tell by touch whether it contained reused scraps or another hidden letter.
Nor could she destroy such a perfect specimen to satisfy her curiosity. Especially when said specimen had been stolen from the Cambridge University Royal Library.
The Wynchesters intended to return this illuminated manuscript in the same pristine condition in which it had been found…didn’t they?
There.That was a professional, not-remotely-related-to-kissing reason to contact Tommy Wynchester. The public might take interest in the chivalric tales involved in the famous cipher, which would increase the value of the set. The theft had not yet been discovered, but it could only be a matter of time.
And then what? Philippa was the one in possession of stolen goods, not that anyone would think her capable of sneaking into Cambridge for a spot of burglary. Wallflowers were rarely suspected of conspiring with criminal masterminds.
Or kissing them, which she was definitely not thinking about.
