The Transformation of Philip Jettan

by Georgette Heyer

Tom's eyes travelled down to the creaseless biscuit-coloured small-clothes.

"Ay. I admire everything. The boots most of all. The boots—Philip, where did you obtain them?"

Philip glanced carelessly down at his shapely leg.

"They were made for me. Me, I am not satisfied with them. I shall give them to François."

"Give them to François?" cried his uncle. "Ye wicked boy! Where is the fellow?"

"He and Jacques are struggling with my baggage and Moggat." He stretched out a detaining hand as Tom started forward to the door. "Ah, do not disturb yourself. I have spoken with ce bon Moggat, and all is well. He will arrange everything."

Tom came back.

"He will be in a frenzy, Philip! All that baggage!"

"All—that baggage?" Philip spoke with uplifted brows. "It has arrived?" He went to the window and looked out. "But no, not yet."

"B—but—is there more to come?" asked Tom.