I held Emma's satin clutch as she smoothed the folds of her pleated skirt.

"Y-you think my armor's good enough?"

I took a step toward her and cupped her cheek in my hand before planting a kiss firmly on her hairline. I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of her shampoo. "You're more than enough, Ems. No matter what happens tonight, know you'll always be more than enough to me."

Emma's head bobbed underneath my lips. I begrudgingly released her and surrendered her miniature purse. She gripped it tightly in both hands and tilted her chin upward, offering me a brave grin. "Thank you... You don't look half bad yourself."

I leaned forward again but hesitated. Emma's smile widened as she went up onto her toes and closed the gap, her lips locking perfectly to mine.

"Bloody finally!"

I groaned, but Emma fell back onto her heels with a laugh.

"Good evening to you, too," she said in greeting to my sister.

Cynthia stood in the doorway, her bright, neon green heels tapping impatiently at us. Her dress—much shorter and tighter than Emma's—was equally colorful and patterned with abstract splotches, which, to my eyes, resembled a school of fish.

"Everyone's already inside, come on, come on!" She practically whined.

I felt Emma's fingers entwine with mine and glanced over my shoulder in her direction. She smiled tightly and nodded as she gave my hand a gentle squeeze. I stroked the knuckle of her index finger with my thumb and, with a heavy sigh, led us both onward to our now inescapable fate.

* * *

I promised Emma I would stay by her side the entire evening, but, true to form, I was yanked away to shake some previously generous hands. Emma quietly assured me she would be fine, but within mere seconds of my departure, they descended...

Cynthia noticed it, too, and smoothly inserted herself in a nearby conversation.

Emma's eyebrows lifted in an air of surprise as Lord Shelby introduced himself and his wife, Lady Shelby. They were a middle-aged couple, bordering on elderly, though this didn't stop them from being some of the most vigorous gossips currently working the non-profit circuits. To their credit, the pair frequently donated large sums of money to good works; however, rumor had it that the two were enthusiastic swingers who just as frequently perused charitable events looking for new lovers.

I watched from across the room as Emma nodded and offered her hand to Lord Shelby. Instead of shaking it, he hooked her fingers in his own and brought them up to his lips. I shifted my weight to move toward them, but Cynthia had already beaten me to it.

In an instant, she was beside Emma and shoving her own hand in Lord Shelby's direction. Emma offered a composed laugh at something the old man had said and then sent an amiable smile to Lady Shelby.

I tried to turn my attention back to the conversation I was supposed to be partaking in, but my attention continuously flickered back to the back of Emma's figure. Finally, Lord and Lady Shelby shuffled on only for the next set of societal vultures to settled on her.

I was pulled from one conversation to another, all the while Emma floated through a steady stream of donors with apparent ease. She stood tall with Cynthia beside her serving as her own personal sentential standing guard. She continued to offer her hand to every new introduction, nodding along with whatever they were saying, and all the while smiling.

To everyone around us, she was the picture of young, high society. I knew only I could see her smile—see how it was held fixed to her cheeks, never quite reaching her eyes.