Page 21 of The Unassuming Curator

“Goodness.” She took a deep breath in a vain attempt to calm her nerves. “How ever does one navigate so large a gathering?”

Aunt Millward smiled reassuringly. “One person at a time, my dear. All it will take is a couple of well-placed introductions and you shall be well on your way.”

Well on her way to what? An evening of memorizing names and faces and saying just the right thing to every stranger she met? Her feet slowed.

Phoebe stepped up beside her and linked their arms. “Remember,” she said softly, “you are not alone.” She cocked her head to one side. “In the short time we’ve been in London, you have completely won over Aunt Millward, and although I have yet to determine whether she or Adam is most protective of you, I do know they will both come to your rescue if ever you need them. As will I.”

“Thank you.” Emily squeezed Phoebe’s arm. “I’m not really as timid as I seem. It’s just that this sight . . . the number of people . . . for someone who is used to solitude, it’s a little overwhelming.”

“It is. But it’s also exciting, and I want you to enjoy every moment of it.” Phoebe’s eyes sparkled. “And to that end, I will do my best to keep Adam from scaring off any potential suitors.”

“You would likely need to lock him outside to accomplish that.”

Tapping her chin with her forefinger, Phoebe gave the appearance of pondering Emily’s suggestion carefully. “I believe that idea may have considerable merit.”

“Phoebe, I have seen that scheming look before.” Adam joined them, looking from one lady to the other, his eyebrow raised. “What are you up to?”

“I think she is rather hoping you will take a walk with her on the patio,” Emily said.

“Now?”

Phoebe slipped her arm out from beneath Emily’s and claimed Adam’s. “Now would be lovely,” she said. “Aunt Millward will stay with Emily.”

“Yes, yes.” Aunt Millward waved them away. “Off you go. Emily and I will be fine.”

Adam wavered for only a moment. “In her current condition, it would probably be wise to have Phoebe out of this press for a time.”

Emily smiled. “We can meet up again after you have taken some air.”

He nodded and turned to guide Phoebe toward the french doors. Emily watched them go, her smile faltering. Perhaps one day there would be a gentleman in her life who loved her as deeply as Adam loved Phoebe. Perhaps. If she were very fortunate. She took another deep breath and raised her chin a fraction. Until then, she had a grand ball to navigate, and she’d best begin right away.

The ballroom was crowded. Henry paused at its entrance and allowed his gaze to traverse the room. This late in the Season, most of the people attending the ball were familiar. He focused on those standing near the refreshment table. He could not see Lord Dunsbourne’s dark head above the throng, and without her signature peacock-feathered hat, Aunt Millward was going to be almost impossible to spot among all the white-haired ladies. He scanned the guests standing in clusters along the wall, and a niggle of doubt entered his mind. No one had mentioned this ball when his aunt and her guests had visited the museum two days before. It was entirely possible that they had no plans to attend. He shook the thought away. Surely after arriving in London so late in the Season, Lord and Lady Dunsbourne would not forgo this opportunity to introduce Miss Norton to Society. The Tilsons’ ball was known for being one of the grandest affairs of the year.

He skimmed the crowd again. Miss Norton was so petite that his best chance of seeing her would be if she was out on the dance floor. Weaving through a group of gentlemen discussing a recent race at Ascot, he inched toward the center of the room. A few gentlemen greeted him by name, but he did not stop to join their conversation. Lady Dalrimple, standing between her two daughters, smiled encouragingly at him. He acknowledged her with a polite nod and veered away.

Old Mr. Baldwin was talking loudly to Lord Littlewood. The gentleman’s rambling complaint about his gout followed Henry to the edge of the dance floor. Over the music, Lady Aurelia’s distinctive laugh reached him from somewhere to his left, and for about the tenth time since Felix had handed him his hat, he questioned his decision to come.

“Good evening, Henry.”

Henry swung around as his aunt arrived beside him in a cloud of green silk and ribbons.

“Aunt Millward,” he said. “I wondered if you would be here.”

“I have been here for the best part of an hour.” She eyed him critically. “But you certainly took your time to arrive. I was beginning to think you had failed me.”

“Failed you?” What on earth was she talking about? Had she sent him a message that he’d never received?

“Not me, exactly,” she said. “But most certainly Miss Norton.”

“Miss Norton?” Henry’s concern rose. His aunt had a bevy of friends, acquaintances, and servants who would assist her should she have a need. To the best of his knowledge, Miss Norton knew almost no one in London beyond her brother and sister-in-law.

“Of course.” Aunt Millward shook her head despairingly. “Honestly, Henry, if you cannot manage to do anything more than repeat whatever I say, this evening is sunk.”

Henry snapped his mouth closed, catching the question “This evening is sunk?” before it rolled off his tongue.

She opened her fan and wafted warm air across her face, watching him expectantly. “Well? Are you ready to enter the fray?”

Tamping down the urge to run his fingers through his hair, Henry dug deep for an extra measure of patience. “Aunt Millward, I do not mean to be obtuse, but I fear you are going to have to explain yourself a little better than this. What exactly does Miss Norton need?”