“Well, obviously you would need to keep being the baron,” Philippa said. “He cannot disappear the moment we’re betrothed. The ruse will only work if people believe it. You’d have to be the baron in public and anywhere he would reasonably be expected to be present.”

“Obviously,” Tommy repeated, her voice dull and empty.

Her skin prickled beneath her livery. Was it worth it? Was getting to keep Philippa worth giving up herself? Being forced to answer to her father’s name forevermore?

It wasn’t Happy Ever After if only one person was happy with who they were ever after. She didn’t want to be the lesser evil in the choice between Lord Whiddleburr and Baron Vanderbean.

If Tommy wasn’t chosen for herself…then she wasn’t being chosen at all.

“No,” she said quietly. “I’m not Baron Vanderbean. I’m Tommy. I asked you to stay with me.”

“I would be with you,” Philippa said.

“You’d be with Baron Vanderbean,” Tommy said. “Anywhere he might reasonably be expected. Which is everywhere you are. In public. At private gatherings. At home.”

“I rarely attend society events,” Philippa pointed out, “and the baron is famously reclusive. Besides, my own parents are rarely seen together. I could spend most of my time with my sister-in-law.”

Tommy closed her eyes. “Miss Thomasina” was also a disguise.

“In any case, you make an excellent Baron Vanderbean. His costume is very comfortable, remember?”

“Any costume is unbearable if it cannot be removed. Theater is an enjoyable pastime because it ends. Four hours, then the curtain closes. But everywhere I went would be my theater. Every day. Constantly onstage, even at home.”

“I would know you were really you. Your family would know you were really you.”

“My family would never ask me to hide myself for the rest of my life,” Tommy said quietly. “They love me. They would never prefer a fictional character over the real Tommy.”

Philippa blanched. “I—”

“I want to be wanted for me. As me. Doesn’t everyone?” Tommy opened her arms wide in supplication. “Or did you think I own so many disguises because there’s nothing underneath?”

Philippa’s voice shook. “That’s not fair.”

“I’m not fair?” Tommy said in disbelief. “How can you ask me to marry you as Baron Vanderbean? There is no Baron Vanderbean.”

“But you have wardrobes full of—”

“Being caught dressed as a chimneysweep wouldn’t matter. Being caught impersonating one’s conspicuously absent benefactor, however…The ramifications could be severe.”

Philippa’s face drained of color. “But if you—”

“It is one thing to don temporary disguises for our clients when the circumstances warrant,” Tommy said quietly, “but I was not planning to live a lie for the rest of time.”

Or to continue using Bean’s name as if it were her own.

Philippa’s eyes were wide, her cheeks pallid.