Philippa’s collection contained only one illustrated volume of Sir Reginald’s collected tales of English chivalry. The complete four-book set was rare to find. The binding on the volume Philippa owned was barely hanging on, which was how Damaris had first got the idea to—

“Oh no,” Philippa breathed. “Not your cipher!”

Damaris nodded miserably. “My cipher.”

Four years ago, Damaris had brought a family heirloom to the reading circle: a bright, colorful volume collecting dust in her uncle’s library. Leaves and pomegranates and flamboyant swirls decorated the gilded cover. The exterior edges of the pages likewise illustrated with half-moons of abstract swirls amid fruits and ivy. The interior was absolutely stunning. Though the style was identical, Philippa’s was a different volume, and in poorer condition.

Damaris created a cipher, using her uncle’s rare manuscript of chivalric tales as a base. She taught the code to the others, only for the group to lose interest when it proved impossible to decipher without having the illuminated manuscript at hand to use as the key.

“When we stopped using the cipher, I hated to see something so elegant fall into disuse. I showed the idea to Uncle Northrup and explained how it was uniquely suited to Sir Reginald’s quartet of chivalric tales, due to their astonishing uniformity, as well as the abundance and variability of—”

“English, you said,” barked Great-Aunt Wynchester.

“Yes. Thank you. I explained to Uncle Northrup as best I could and said the Crown might be well served by encoding messages in such a fashion. Uncle didn’t seem to think much of my suggestion or my cipher, and that was the last we spoke of it. He left for the battlefield again less than a week later. I forgot all about it until this morning.”

Chloe lifted the lid to the wicker basket dangling from her arm and handed Philippa a folded broadsheet. “This is the article.”

“Front page,” Philippa said as she unfolded it. “Not the scandal columns.”

“It ought to be a scandal,” Sybil said fiercely.

Philippa shook out the clipping.

Indeed, CAPTAIN NORTHRUP IS A HERO was printed across the top of the first page.

“It’s not fair,” said Lady Eunice. “He plagiarized his grand idea.”

“Since it was Damaris’s grand idea,” said Sybil, “it should be Damaris’s credit. And viscountcy. And royal celebration on the first day of the season.”

“We shan’t allow this theft to stand.” Philippa turned to Chloe. “Your family has a long history of doing the impossible to seek justice for those who have no other recourse. Can you help us prevent Northrup from reaping rewards that rightfully belong to Damaris? I will happily take part in any scheme to stop him.”

Chloe opened her mouth.

The door to the parlor swung open, sending the handkerchief falling from the keyhole.