Page 108 of The Seaside Homecoming
“What is this?” Claire studied it.
“An invitation to an evening party.”
Claire stared in some astonishment at her name on the official-looking invitation. “But how?”
“James added you to the guest list—with Sir Thomas’s approval, of course. Do say you’ll come. Several gloomy politicians will be there, so we’ll need help enlivening the mood, as well as another woman to even the numbers. I have even convinced Sarah to come. Viola and the major will be there too. You could wear the white-and-rose dinner dress again. It would be perfect for an evening party.”
Claire admitted, “Mr. Hammond also suggested I attend ... as his guest.”
Emily’s dark eyes sparkled. “Did he indeed?”
“I was reluctant to agree, but now that my name is officially on the guest list...”
“You’ll come! Excellent,” Emily said. “I’m so glad. The cabriolet at our disposal has a hood but seats only two.”
“So,” Viola interjected, “you are welcome to ride with Sarah, Jack, and me, as our carriage is larger.”
Claire nodded. “Mr. Hammond said something about hiring a chaise or gig, but I was not sure I should travel alone with him.”
“There would be room for him as well,” Viola said. “And less room for gossip.”
Mr. Hammond came into the room. “Ah. Mrs. Thomson. Mrs. Hutton. A pleasure to see you both again.”
“Mr. Hammond. We were just speaking of you.”
“All good, I hope?”
Claire explained, “Emily’s husband has procured an official invitation for me, and Viola and her husband are offering to convey us both in their carriage to Sir Thomas’s party.”
“Excellent. That’s all sorted, then. Thank you very much. And please do thank your husbands for me.”
“The major and I are happy to do it.” Viola met his gaze directly. “We want there to be no mistake. My sister is not alone in the world, without the protection of family.”
For a moment Mr. Hammond stood stock-still, only the deep lines between his eyebrows giving away his displeasure. “I know that. I would never take advantage, even if she were.”
“Good. I am glad we understand one another.”
“We do.”
Good heavens!Claire thought, mortification heating every pore. What had happened to her shy, reclusive sister? This Viola was a woman to be reckoned with.
Despite the embarrassment, her sister’s protective gesture touched Claire’s heart.
Later that day, they all gathered in the morning room, including Armaan, ready for Mr. Filonov to unveil his portrait.
The artist pulled back the covering and looked first at Mira. “So. What do you say?”
Mira gasped and pressed her hands to her mouth, then clapped loudly. “It isAmma!”
Claire could hardly believe the transformation from pencil sketch to full color portrait. “You are a master, Mr. Filonov.”
“Sank you, my dear.”
“I don’t know how you accomplished it and so quickly,” Mr. Hammond said. “I see Miss Summers’s dress. Miss Patel’s braid. The girl in the miniature, and Mira, as well as Armaan. Yet I blink and look again, and I see my wife, Vanita, as she was.”
Mr. Filonov laid a hand over his heart. “You honor me, sir. You are pleased?”
“More than pleased.” He sent Armaan a sour look. “Although I am not sure I like my wife having Armaan’s eyes.” His lip quirked. “I shall endeavor to overlook it.”
