“What?” Mother burst out. “We have spent all morning refining the terms of your settlements—”

“Now you can keep the money,” Philippa said. “Not marrying me off will be economically advantageous.”

“Not if you’re upstairs spending our fortune on old manuscripts,” Father said from behind his broadsheet.

“Ah,” said Philippa. “That is where you’re in luck. I shan’t be upstairs at all. From this day forth, I shall be living with the Wynchesters.”

“You cannot be serious.” Mother let out a high laugh. “Darling, this is your final opportunity to be a lady. Whiddleburr is a marquess.”

“And yet,” said Philippa, “I find myself far more tempted by the idea of remaining a spinster for the rest of my days.”

“I told you we should have secured her acquiescence first,” Father said without lowering his broadsheet.

“You did?” Philippa said in surprise.

“What good would that have done?” Mother said in exasperation. “The only man she’s ever shown any interest in is…Is that what this is about? Are you eloping with Baron Vanderbean?”

“I’m afraid Baron Vanderbean was called home to Balcovia,” Tommy said. “He has not sent word on when or whether he shall return.”

Elizabeth and Marjorie raised their eyebrows at each other.

“Well, that’s something, at least,” huffed Philippa’s mother. “At least I needn’t worry you’ve taken up with a Wynchester.”

Philippa concentrated on petting Tiglet and tried very hard not to exchange glances with anyone.

“Now, darling,” Mother continued, “if you would just be reasonable. Lord Whiddleburr is likely to retract his offer if you no longer reside here in Mayfair with us.”

“There is no offer to retract,” Philippa said. “I’ve already declined it and am not open to considering any others.”

Mother wrung her hands. “Think of your father and his potential connections in the House of Lords. Think of your poor mother, and how close you are to having a title. When you can rule Polite Society as a lady—”

“The only society I wish to keep are the Wynchesters and my reading circle,” Philippa said.

“Darling, you know you cannot have both of those. Surely you prefer the reading circle over the company of—” Mother coughed delicately into her hand, seeming to recollect at the last moment that there were three Wynchesters standing in her parlor, two with their arms crossed and one with her hands atop the brass handle of a sword stick.

“Those who wish for my company may still have it,” Philippa said quietly. “But if you and Father feel you must punish me to protect your reputations…”

Her father shook his broadsheet without lowering it. “Oh, let her be a spinster in peace. She already was one. I’d as soon see our daughter’s nose in a book as stuck up in the air next to Whiddleburr.”

Philippa’s heart fluttered. “I—you—”