Page 39

“Lord Culham,” she said, inclining her head.

He reached for her hand and pressed it to his lips. Her gloves were not barrier enough to prevent the shudder that coursed through her. She pulled her hand back.

Seemingly impervious to the snub, Lord Culham turned his oily smile on Aunt Millward. “Lady Millward.” He bowed. “Always a pleasure.”

“I did not know you were an opera enthusiast, Lord Culham,” Aunt Millward said.

“Indeed, my lady. I enjoy all music, and of course, I am always eager to support those working so hard on behalf of the British Museum.”

Given that Lord Culham’s topics of conversation at the Tilsons’ ball had not strayed beyond the weather, the loveliness of the ladies’ gowns, and the deteriorating service at White’s, it was hard to believe that he had ever given much thought to the items housed at the British Museum.

“Very good of you,” Aunt Millward said. “Do you have a favorite amongst the many exhibits?”

Emily attempted to prevent a smile from growing. Aunt Millward’s thoughts had obviously mirrored her own.

“Well now, that is hard to say,” Lord Culham blustered. “How is one to choose when there are so many?”

“True.” Aunt Millward appeared thoughtful. “I believe if I were forced to choose, however, it would have to be the collection of dishes from China. The hand-painted jugs are exquisite.”

Emily did not have to think long to know that there was no such collection. Lord Culham, however, was not so fortunate.

“I could not agree more,” he said. “I’ve never seen the like.”

The last part of his statement was accurate, at least.

“Good evening, Lady Millward. Miss Norton.” Colonel Eastberry stepped up from behind Lord Culham and greeted them both with a bow. “Culham,” he added almost as an afterthought.

Lord Culham gave him a curt nod, but Emily was so relieved to have Lord Culham’s falsehearted exchange interrupted that she greeted Colonel Eastberry with a warm smile.

“How nice to see you, Colonel.”

The gentleman stood a little taller. “Thank you, Miss Norton. The feeling is mutual.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention.” Lord Southbeck’s voice cut through the murmur of multiple conversations, and a hush fell upon the room. “Our special guest, Miss Sophia Ledbetter, has informed me that she is ready. If you would all be good enough to take your seats, we shall begin the concert.” Lord Southbeck moved away from the pianoforte, and Miss Ledbetter stepped up to a light ripple of applause and the movement of all the guests.

“Would you do me the honor, Miss Norton?” Colonel Eastberry asked, extending his arm to her.

Emily hesitated a fraction of a second too long. She saw the confusion in his eyes and hastened to rectify it by placing her hand upon his elbow. “It would be my pleasure, sir.”

Attempting to ignore Lord Culham’s scowl, she allowed Colonel Eastberry to lead her toward the front of the room. It was only when she took a seat on the second row, with Aunt Millward nowhere in sight, that she realized she would be forced to sit through the entire concert without the earplugs conveniently tucked away in the older lady’s reticule.

Henry slipped into the Southbecks’ drawing room just as Miss Ledbetter released her first warbling notes. Two footmen stood near the door, but the other occupants were seated in six tidy rows facing the singing sensation. Henry gave the closest footman an acknowledging nod before scanning the chairs in search of Aunt Millward and Emily. He spotted Aunt Millward immediately, near the back, her dark-blue gown standing out against her bouffant white hair. The chairs at her left were filled. There was one vacant chair at her right, but there was no sign of Emily on the row. Puzzled, he scoured the remainder of the chairs. And then he saw her. On the second row, beside Eastberry.

He clenched his hands in frustration. The promise of a chance to sit beside Emily this evening had been the driving force behind his feverish efforts to finish the Egyptian pottery display today. It had taken him hours to transport the pieces, arrange them in the case, and complete the labeling. He’d been one part exhilarated by the end result and two parts exhausted by the effort it had taken, but he’d pushed aside his fatigue to hurry home to change. Even with his best efforts, however, he’d not been fast enough.

On silent feet, he crossed the distance between the door and the back row of chairs and slid into the empty chair beside Aunt Millward.

She looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Do I need to buy you a new pocket watch, or are you habitually late?”

Grateful that Miss Ledbetter’s voice filled the room well enough to cover his aunt’s, Henry kept his eyes forward and attempted to hide his irritation. “Neither. I had something I had to finish at the museum. Truth be told, I changed and traveled here in record time.” He glanced at her. “And before you ask, I increased my valet’s pay this week.”

With a gratified expression, she opened her reticule. “Here,” she said, handing him two tiny scraps of fabric. “We’re only on the first aria. You’ll be needing these before too long.”

Henry accepted the makeshift earplugs with a halfhearted smile. They were poor consolation for having to stare at the back of Eastberry’s head every time he bent down to exchange a word or two with Emily, but they might enable Henry to survive until the end of the concert.

“Do you understand any of the words to this song?” he whispered.

“Not one.”