Was it too blunt? Of course it was too blunt. Mother constantly harped that Philippa’s straightforward, logical thoughts were completely inappropriate. But wasn’t fraudulently leading on a perfectly nice man just as inappropriate?

“I knew my admiration of you would go nowhere,” he said at last. A wistful smile flitted at his lips. “Though I might have hoped Baron Vanderbean had a chance.”

Philippa frowned. “Did you just refer to yourself in the third person?”

“No,” Baron Vanderbean replied. “I’m Tommy Wynchester.”

11

11

Tommy?” Philippa repeated.

Doubt seeped into Tommy’s bones. And raw panic.

She hadn’t meant to tell the truth. But Philippa had been kind and brave enough to do so. She hadn’t rejected Baron Vanderbean. Her parents had preemptively done so. Which implied Philippa might not have done, if the decision were up to her.

And since Tommy wasn’t Baron Vanderbean, and hadn’t intended to be him for more than a few stolen moments, it was only fair to show Philippa the same courtesy.

Plus, her siblings were right. Tommy could not go to her grave without presenting herself as herself to Philippa at least once. Yet nothing terrified her more than being rejected by the woman she’d loved from afar for so long. Especially not now, in this moment, when they were alone together for the first time, side by side in a carriage, public but private.

Somehow, she managed to nod. “Yes, I’m Tommy.”

Philippa was close enough to touch. The softness of her cheek, the silkiness of her hair, a velvet pelisse that hid voluptuous curves Tommy imagined seeing bare. Philippa’s hand was right there. Inches from Tommy’s. Philippa’s mouth just a little farther away. Philippa’s wide blue eyes…very, very confused.

“Well…Tommy,” she said slowly. “If we’re to be friends, I suppose you may call me Philippa. Is it a Balcovian custom or a Wynchester custom to be intimate so quickly?”

“Both,” Tommy croaked. “I mean neither. That is…I’m not Baron Vanderbean. I’m Tommy Wynchester.”

Philippa stared at her, then cackled with glee. “Not Baron Vanderbean! A different Wynchester brother! I hadn’t known I could be more delighted with you, and here you are, delighting me beyond all measure. Mother thinks she’s pulling the wool over your eyes, and you’re not even the man she thinks you are!”

“Er,” said Tommy.

Philippa was delighted with her? Should Tommy correct her? Did it matter?

“You aren’t upset I’m not a baron?” Tommy asked.

“Since we are never to have a courtship, you could be a chimneysweep for all I mind,” Philippa pointed out reasonably.

Tommy didn’t feel reasonable. There might only be a hand’s width of space between her hip and Philippa’s, but that was as close as they would ever be.