Page 39 of The Perks of Loving a Wallflower

“Youwantto dance with them,” Philippa accused.

“I like to dance,” Tommy agreed. “I’d rather dance withyouall night, but it wouldn’t have the effect your mother is hoping for.” She lowered her voice. “People might think there is Something Sordid between us.”

“You make ‘sordid’ sound like ‘wonderful.’”

“Itiswonderful, when done with the right person.” Tommy’s voice was husky.

Philippa hesitated. “Are you speaking to me as Tommy or as Baron Vanderbean?”

“For the next few hours, I’m both.”

Philippa seemed to consider that. She wore the blank expression that indicated her mind was busy computing facts. She did not appear nearly as appalled or confused by their banter as Tommy might have predicted.

Perhaps there was more to Philippa than Tommy had suspected. If only she could just ask!

Are you sexually attracted to me?was not the sort of question one could gracefully recover from if the answer was no. In fact, Tommy’s three months with Philippa could end this very night.

Philippa lowered her eyes. “I’m not used to people flirting with me, even in jest.”

Tommy hadn’t been joking. She kept her voice serious. “I’m surprised everyone doesn’t flirt with you constantly.”

“Why would they?” Philippa’s eyes lifted to Tommy’s again. “I’m a wallflower.”

“Oh, you are not.”

Philippa’s mouth fell open. “I thinkIwould know.”

“You may not have caught the exact highborn lords your mother wants in the family, but you’re beautiful, you’re rich, you’re the leader of a bluestocking society, you have dozens of friends…” Tommy arched her brows. “Wallflower isn’t who you are, it’s the role you’ve chosen to play.”

Tommy knew quite a bit about that technique.

Philippa stared at her wordlessly.

“You’re a self-appointed wallflower.” Tommy turned her in time to the music. “Be careful. Disguises are useful when used strategically, but if you wear them for too long…you can lose who you really are.”

“I’ve always wanted to lose who I really am,” Philippa admitted. “That’s how I fell in love with books as a child. They gave me the siblings I never had, the friends I never had, the parental adoration I never had, the life I never had. They helped me to survive. I suppose you find that foolish.”

“For me it was my sister Chloe,” Tommy said. “It started with a shared pie. We all grab on to whatever we can.”

“If we’re fortunate enough to have something to grab on to,” Philippa said. “That’s why I’m arranging small community libraries. I want other women and children to have the same opportunity that I had. Everyone deserves an escape. Or to expand their mind, as they prefer. I want others to havechoices.”

“When Chloe and I were at the orphanage, she would have killed for a library,” Tommy admitted. “Books were one of the first things she donated after Bean adopted us.”

Philippa’s eyes softened. “What didyoudonate?”

“Meat pies,” Tommy answered without hesitation.

Philippa laughed. “You did not.”

“Indirectly,” Tommy hedged. “We’d spent years sneaking them in with our pickpocketing spoils. I donated money and equipment to the kitchens, so that stealing suppers would no longer be necessary. The orphanage is a very different place today.”

“How I yearn to make a difference, too,” Philippa said wistfully.

“You already do.” Tommy looked at her in surprise. “Your name is just as synonymous with charity work as it is with your bluestocking circle.”

“I donate funds and sew blankets and the like,” Philippa said, “which is all very well and useful. But I want to make a bigger difference. Afundamentaldifference. Once everyone has access to local reading libraries, regardless of their wealth or class, I will feel as though I made London better.” Her cheeks flushed. “Is that prideful and obnoxious?”

“It’s lovely,” Tommy admitted. “It’s very Wynchestery of you. We are very prideful of our attempts to make London better.”