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“Splendid,” she said, sounding abnormally pleased. “I shall look forward to having another opportunity to view shards of broken pottery, dead flowers, and ancient coins.”

Henry shook his head helplessly but was unable to prevent a soft chuckle from escaping. Aunt Millward was incorrigible.

Chapter 6

Rain was pouring down the windows. Emily lowered the book she’d been reading, set it on her knee, and gazed through the wet panes at the blurry view of Lady Millward’s small garden. After an evening of socializing, she’d not been sorry to wake up to the sound of rain. London’s cold, damp weather was a far cry from the heat and humidity described in the volume about India that she’d discovered in the townhouse’s modest library this morning, but there was something wonderfully soothing about reading in the comfort of a deep armchair beside the fire.

Colonel Eastberry’s vivid descriptions of India had fascinated her, and she’d left the Farwells’ dinner party eager to learn more about the far-off land. But now that she was seated in the quiet drawing room with reading material in hand, she was finding it unusually difficult to concentrate. The book’s descriptive passages of the Bombay and Madras presidencies were seemingly no match for the images and snippets of conversations from the previous evening that kept invading her thoughts.

Her initial run-in with the Dowager Lady Pendleton had had the potential to completely ruin the evening, but entering the house with Lady Millward at her side had made all the difference. Not only had Lady Millward given her fair warning of the elderly stateswoman’s disposition, but she’d also made Emily an ally. And by so doing, Emily had immediately become Lord Benning’s and Mr. Buckland’s ally too.

She smiled at the memory of the Dowager Lady Pendleton’s horrified expression upon learning of Lord Benning’s partiality for farm labor. If she had any idea how Adam spent most of his time or how many hours Emily gathered apples during harvests, she likely would shun them both. As it was, after their initial meeting, the dowager had limited her interaction with Emily to a cursory question about Emily’s musical talent followed by a full explanation of Lady Aurelia’s proficiency on the pianoforte.

Despite her grandmother’s newfound reservations, Lady Aurelia had attached herself to Lord Benning at every available moment from the time they’d sat down together at dinner to the moment her family had exited Benning House. The gentleman had been the epitome of civility, but even Emily—with her limited experience among strangers—had caught an occasional glimpse of strain on his face.

She’d recognized a similar emotion in Mr. Buckland’s expression at the dinner table. Although why he would feel that way when he was seated beside Lady Millward, she could not fathom. Emily had been grateful to be seated beside Colonel Eastberry. For the entire meal, he’d maintained an interesting monologue with very little need for her to contribute more than a few comments and a question or two. But in her heart of hearts, Emily knew that if the choice had been hers, she would have preferred to sit beside Mr. Buckland.

She ran her fingers absently over the open pages. She was not sure what caused her to marvel the most: that the gentleman she’d seen collecting red campion on her recent journey was in attendance at her first dinner party in London, that he was willing to fully overlook her earlier impropriety, or that he was a curator at the British Museum. Her fingers stilled, and she sighed. A red campion plant was surely one of the most prosaic items on display at so distinguished an institution. What would it be like to have daily access to an untold number of treasures from around the world?

A knock on the townhouse’s front door brought Emily out of her musing. The sound of the butler’s solid footsteps followed, and then voices. The door closed, and the butler’s footsteps faded away. A messenger rather than a caller, it would seem. Emily glanced out of the window again. With today’s inclement weather, the absence of visitors was hardly surprising.

Picking up her book once more, she turned to the next page. Monkeys. Surely those intriguing creatures would capture her attention.

She had managed only two paragraphs when the door to the small library opened and Lady Millward walked in.

“Ah! I thought I might find you here.” The older lady smiled. “Have you found something new to read?”

“Yes.” Emily held up the book. “It’s about India. I haven’t got very far yet, but I’m learning a great deal.” She hesitated. “Thank you for allowing me access to your library.”

Lady Millward’s gaze ran across the bookshelves lining one wall. “My husband was a great reader, but I fear it is an interest I cannot claim. Since his passing, these books and this room have been somewhat neglected. I am glad to see them being enjoyed once more.”

Phoebe had told Emily that Lord Millward had died when she was very young, so Emily knew his passing was not a recent loss for the older lady, but she guessed that since they’d had no children, being widowed at a relatively young age had made for many years of loneliness. It was a condition Emily knew all too well.

“My mother died soon after my birth, and since Adam is significantly older than I am, he was away at school or university most of my growing-up years. I think I turned to books for companionship.”

Lady Millward circled the end table and took a seat on the armchair across from the one Emily was using. “And along the way, you learned all sorts of things,” she said.

Emily smiled. “Yes, I suppose I did.” She sobered as memories of Adam’s concern over some of her topics of study resurfaced. “Perhaps the study of wild animals or distant lands is not considered suitable reading for a well-bred young lady, but I find it so much more interesting than stitchery or practicing the pianoforte or . . . or knitting.”

“I think it is time that I let you in on a secret, Miss Norton.” Lady Millward leaned forward in her chair. “I have never enjoyed those things either.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.” Lady Millward was most definite. “There is little so tedious as unpicking embroidery or banging at the same notes over and over again.”

Warmth filled Emily’s chest. She could not remember a time when her unconventional interests had been so validated, and to have the endorsement come from a well-respected lady of title and means was all the more heartening. “What do you enjoy doing, my lady?”

Lady Millward contemplated the question a moment. “I’m afraid I cannot claim true proficiency in anything particularly literary, musical, or creative. But I do consider myself a good judge of character, and I take great delight in mentoring those individuals whom I feel I can assist by virtue of my position in Society or my life experience.”

“Such as your bolstering of Lord Benning’s stance last night.”

Lady Millward’s blue eyes sparkled with something that looked remarkably like mischief. “I believe the Dowager Lady Pendleton’s expression when I mentioned Benedict’s involvement with the lambing made up for all the times I’ve been forced to listen to her recite the names of her ancestors who have married into royalty.”

Emily bit her lip to prevent a giggle from emerging. “Is the list extensive?”

Lady Millward groaned. “To hear her tell it, it’s a wonder the king hasn’t taken upon himself the name Pendleton.”

There was no holding back Emily’s laughter now. “Lady Millward,” she said. “You are quite marvelous.”