She had slain the dragon! She had brought a happy ending to not one, but three fair maidens! Triumph was not a feeling Philippa was accustomed to. She loved it. She was happier this morning than on the day of her come-out, or the night she first used her Almack’s voucher.

Tommy’s family must awaken with this sense of pride and justice every day of their lives.

The joy came from knowing Philippa had made a difference. She’d been part of a team that nudged the world in a better direction than it had been going yesterday. A far better accomplishment than “can use watercolors” or “knows five melodies at the pianoforte.”

Rightful credit had been given to three talented women who deserved it. The reading circle was euphoric. Damaris was the belle of the ball—due to her cryptography. A so-called unladylike pastime that had helped to win the war.

This sudden popularity should also help with the reading circle’s charity endeavors. After Philippa broke her fast, she intended to write to all the ladies who had previously declined to take part in collaborative charity work with a group of bluestockings. Perhaps now they would be eager to help.

Philippa’s dream to bring lending libraries to every neighborhood in London could actually come to fruition. What lady wouldn’t wish to join causes with women who stood up for other women? Perhaps the reading circle would even grow twofold!

Her lips curving in what felt like a permanent grin, Philippa dressed and made her way lightly down the steps. By now, Tommy and her siblings would have returned the “borrowed” manuscripts. At this hour in Philippa’s home, only the servants would be awake. But even without friends to talk to, nothing could dampen her sunny mood.

To her surprise, the muffled sound of her mother’s voice came from the cerulean sitting room. Philippa paused. She gave up on her plan to read alone and headed to her mother’s sitting room instead.

Philippa’s jaw dropped when she walked through the door. Not only was her father out of his study and seated beside the fire, but every surface of the salon was covered with gifts. Flowers, sweets, wine, pile after pile of letters…

“What is this?” Philippa said in wonder. “Is it for me?”

Her mother rounded to face her, countenance pale save for two bright spots in her cheeks.

“It would appear so,” Father said from behind his broadsheet.

“There’s nothing from any suitors,” Mother said acidly, “so don’t get your hopes up. All of this nonsense was sent by your foolish bluestockings.”

Now that Mother mentioned it, fine Madeira was an unusual choice from a gentleman, but made perfect sense if the sender was Lady Eunice.