She wanted to create a mental map of every facet of Philippa to remember her by. Every dip and curve, every hidden freckle, every blond curl, every expression. Tommy wanted all of it, to hold on to the knowledge in her mind, even after all that was left in her life was a memory. She knew Philippa’s face as well as her own, had admired her silhouette from every angle. And now she knew how it felt to dance with her, what her hand felt like in Tommy’s. Even if it was all she would ever have. Tentatively, she gave Philippa’s fingers another light caress.

Philippa neither jerked back nor leaned closer. She did not slap Tommy’s hand away, nor respond in kind. It was impossible to say what Philippa wanted or whether she understood the question Tommy was asking.

Philippa just stared back expressionlessly.

Tommy felt her rakish confidence evaporate. She wasn’t a baron. Playing the part for a few weeks was well and good, but she had no wish to do so the rest of her life. Bean was Baron Vanderbean. She liked being Tommy. She wanted Philippa to like Tommy. But this was neither the time nor place. They could not risk someone stumbling upon them.

What they needed was privacy. A place no one could interrupt them.

And then Tommy could see about stealing a kiss.

Reluctantly, she led Philippa back inside the ballroom. Warmth washed over them—as well as a wave of whispers.

“Men,” Philippa said in surprise. “Gentlemen. Do you think they’re talking about me?”

“Mayhap.” Tommy wasn’t certain which possibility to wish for. Her jaw hardened. “Those prigs are dreadful gossips. They said Baron Vanderbean is the only acceptable Wynchester. They said the rest of my siblings are worthless ragamuffins who ought to be tossed in the street. They said—”

Did her voice just wobble? Oh God, her throat had gone scratchy. Tommy clicked her teeth closed and stopped speaking, lest any more unwanted divulgences leak out.

“They’re imbeciles,” Philippa said flatly. She held on tighter to Tommy’s arm. “I’ve committed their names and faces to memory. They will not be receiving smiles or dances or anything else from me.”

“You can’t say that,” said Tommy. “What if one of them is your future husband?”

“He ceased being a contender the moment he insulted your family.”

If that was true, Tommy had bad news for Philippa about the entire rest of the beau monde.

“I am eaten alive with envy,” Philippa confessed.

“You’re what?”