Page 110 of The Perks of Loving a Wallflower

“Whatisthis?” Philippa said in wonder. “Is it for me?”

Her mother rounded to face her, countenance pale save for two bright spots in her cheeks.

“It would appear so,” Father said from behind his broadsheet.

“There’s nothing from anysuitors,” Mother said acidly, “so don’t get your hopes up. All of this nonsense was sent by your foolish bluestockings.”

Now that Mother mentioned it, fine Madeirawasan unusual choice from a gentleman, but made perfect sense if the sender was Lady Eunice.

Philippa crossed to the overflowing sideboard. She recognized the handwriting on the letters as being from ladies who attended her reading circle. All two dozen of them must have sent a note or a gift. She picked up the bottle of wine. A note was attached to the neck with a sunny yellow ribbon. Philippa removed it carefully and unfolded the letter to reveal several paragraphs of Lady Eunice’s elegant handwriting.

Darlingest Philippa—

Mother snatched the letter from Philippa’s hand and tossed it into the fire.

“I wasreadingthat!” Philippa clenched her fists as the fire consumed the kind words. “It was from a friend.”

“Not anymore.” Mother drew herself up to her full height—an inch taller than Philippa’s admittedly short frame. Mother crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her nose. “There shall be no more reading circle and no more bluestocking nonsense.”

“What?” Philippa’s chest constricted. “Why?”

“Because you’re ruined,” Mother burst out. “What did you think you were doing?”

“The right thing!” Philippa snapped up straight. “I didn’t ruinmyreputation. It is Captain Northrup who lied to everyone and stole his niece’s cipher.”

“Captain Northrup, celebrated war hero and personal favorite of the Prince Regent, who planned to bestow a viscountcy upon Northrup to honor him, and now shall not.”

“He shan’t?” Philippa brightened. “Itdidwork.”

“It worked to paint you as poisonous to the gentlemen of the ton,” Mother snapped. “Why single him out? There isn’t a man alive who hasn’t done something he regrets.”

“I certainly have,” Father muttered from behind his broadsheet.

Mother ignored this. “Fashionable gentlemen no longer wish to be under the same roof as Philippa. Not when her presence could spell doom or scandal.”

Philippa’s happiness faded. This was the worst possible outcome of the best thing she had ever done.

“There areno more suitors,” Mother whispered, pressing her hands to her chest in horror.

No. That was not the worst thing. Philippa didn’t give a fig about receiving the cut direct from men. She liked the idea that her mere presence could cause arrogant bucks to tremble in their champagne-shined Hessians. “Bringer of Doom” was an even better sobriquet than bluestocking.

But if Philippa was persona non grata to the men, then she had become persona non grata for the ladies, too. The female half of the ton had brothers, fathers, husbands, sons. Some would forbid contact with her. Others had never wished to rub elbows and now had even more excuse to ostracize her. Philippa’s stomach sank.

The citywide lending library was not going to happen. The charity collaborations were as ephemeral as smoke. In fact…there wereeighteenletters and gifts, not twenty-four. Her grand triumph might have cost her several of her dearest friends.

Lady Eunice had sneaked out one letter and a bottle of Madeira, but her very proper parents had no doubt forbidden her from any further acquaintance with Philippa.

“You’renot canceling my reading circle,” she said bleakly.

“I’ve no need to,” said her mother. “We’ll be lucky if thenewspaperstill comes.”

“I am literally reading it at this very moment,” Father said from behind his broadsheet. “Or rather, was attempting to do so before I was interrupted.”

Of course the newspaper would still come. And the milk cart, and their servants, and so forth. But many, if not most, of Philippa’s friends would not be permitted to risk their reputations.

And she had only herself to blame.

She noticed a letter written in a strange hand. It bore no name but her own. She turned it over: the wax was unmarked. Philippa broke the seal and scanned only the first few lines before tossing it into the flames herself.