Page 101 of The Perks of Loving a Wallflower

Tommy turned back to Philippa and lowered her voice. “Tell me more about the parts of you I’ve set a-quiver.”

Philippa’s lips curved in a remarkably wicked smile. “You’ll discover them for yourself if we ever have another moment alone together.”

“Oh, is that all we need? I’ll clear the ballroom posthaste.” Tommy patted her false bosom. “Where did I put that tinderbox? A small fire ought to do the trick. Plenty of wood to be found in a ballroom.”

“No setting fires until we find the manuscript,” Philippa scolded her.

“It’s in an iron strongbox upstairs,” Tommy said. “Perfectly safe from a wee little strategic ballroom inferno. Just think how much easier it will be to nick if everyone’s already run off screaming.”

“I see why we always putChloein charge of the plans,” Philippa teased.

Tommy grinned at her. They were awe. It thrilled her.

“My sister’s logical plans lack a certain…flair,” she protested. “We should really put Graham in charge. He’s always wanting to leap from the backs of horses or scale turrets with a rose clamped in his teeth. Or Jacob! Now,there’san unpredictable plan full of pythons and poetry.”

“I can only imagine.” Philippa’s mouth twitched. “He’d have filled the ballroom with beasts by now.”

Tommy nodded. “AndthenGraham could swing down from a tightrope, snatch up a plate of meat pies, and launch himself back into the sky amidst a flutter of flower petals.”

“This is a fancy party,” Philippa reminded her. “There are no meat pies. He would be forced to retrieve the actual object of the mission instead.”

“Pah,” Tommy said. “Never let the men have all of the fun. Retrieving the manuscript ismybit.”

“And here comes mine,” Philippa said with a grimace. “Mother must have worked her magic.”

Tommy turned to see Northrup swaggering in their direction.

Philippa shuddered. “Ugh, I would marry any man but that one.”

Tommy’s bravado faltered.

Even now, after the night they’d shared, Philippa still planned to marry some lord. Tommy would be nothing more than a funny thing Philippa had once done the autumn before she got married and settled into areallife.

“There you are,” Northrup said, as though Philippa’s conspicuous position alongside the dance floor had made her difficult to spot. “Shall we lead the way?”

Tommy glared at the strutting captain as he ushered Philippa to the center of the ballroom.

Perhaps it was best if Great-Aunt Wynchester did not sulk broodingly at the gentleman of the hour and his pretty partner.

“Aren’t they such a lovely couple?” came a low female voice just behind her.

“I heard they’re betrothed already, or close enough to it,” came the whispered reply.

“Her parents must besoproud,” the first voice said dreamily.

Tommy clenched her hands. She was definitely glowering, and there wasn’t a bloody thing she could do to stop it.

Philippa’s husband would not be Captain Northrup if Tommy had any say in the matter, but it would besomegentleman or other. Tommy did not figure into the equation.

She swallowed. She could not be upset. Philippa had made no promises, nor had Tommy asked for any. If their connection was to be nothing more than a shared secret, then Tommy would at least keep it for as long as she could. She would not stand here watching Philippa and Northrup or listen to the gossips’ fawning approval of this godawful match.

She made her way to the refreshment table instead. There was no platter of meat pies, but there was dessert, which could do in a pinch.

Tommy was engaged in consuming fresh lemon cakes when the interminable first set finally ended. Since Philippa had been standing with her ancient chaperone when Northrup arrived to claim his dance, he brought her back to Tommy.

“Where’s that duchess?” Northrup glanced over his shoulders. “She promised me the second set. What was her name again?”

“Her name is ‘Your Grace,’” Tommy barked. “You green lads, with no sense of respect for ladies—”