Page 121 of The Seaside Homecoming
The jingle of tack and horse hooves announced the arrival of the Huttons’ carriage. Mr. Hammond opened the door for her, and they joined the major, Viola, and Sarah inside the vehicle, the fit rather tight.
Viola said, “I brought a coral necklace I thought would look well with your dress, should you like to wear it.”
She held forth a strand of pinkish-red beads.
“They are lovely. Thank you.”
At the same time, Mr. Hammond and Sarah held out their hands to assist. After a brief moment of uncertainty, Claire turned her back toward Sarah, her knees brushing Mr. Hammond’s as she did. She would be too self-conscious to have him perform the simple, familiar act—especially with her sisters and Major Hutton present.
Sarah made quick work of fastening the clasp, and Claire turned forward again, breaking contact with Mr. Hammond.
“That does look well,” Viola observed.
“Thank you for loaning it to me.”
“Keep it as long as you like.”
After that, Claire sank back against the cushions, content to listen as the major and Mr. Hammond carried on a conversation about recent parliamentary news, glad the focus had shifted away from her.
When at last they neared Killerton, the carriage turned up a long gravel drive that wove through rural woodland before leading to a torchlit entrance.
Liveried footmen helped them alight, and soon they were ushered into a grand hall dominated by a large, paneled staircase. There they were greeted by their host and hostess and made welcome.
A short while later, they all sat down to a sumptuous meal in the dining room lit by candelabra and an ornate marble fireplace, rows of gilt-framed paintings of ancestors arrayed to the ceiling.
Mr. Hammond sat on one side of Claire, an officer she did not know on the other.
At the head of the table, next to Sir Thomas, sat a vivacious woman dressed in an ivory gown trimmed in gold thread. She had dark, springy ringlets around her face and an accent that reminded Claire of Mr. Filonov.
She laughed and spoke with confidence, and the men around her seemed to listen with avid attention to her every word.
Claire leaned closer to Mr. Hammond and asked quietly, “Who is she?”
He followed her gaze. “The Countess Lieven, the Russian ambassador’s wife.”
“She appears to be quite popular.”
“Indeed. I understand invitations to her home are highly sought after, and she was the first foreigner to be elected a patroness of Almack’s.”
“Really?” Claire was impressed.
He nodded. “In fact, it is said she is the person who introduced thewickedwaltz to England through her influence there. Perhaps we shall have an opportunity to dance it this very night.” He waggled his eyebrows at her in a teasing manner. “If you are brave enough.”
Claire grinned in reply, although she was not certain she was.
After dinner, the ladies withdrew, leaving the men to their port and cigars. Claire excused herself to freshen up in the ladies’ lounge.
When she came back down the corridor, the sound of men’s voices drew her attention to an open door. There she saw Mr. Hammond in a small parlour with Sir Thomas, Emily’s husband, James, and another man, deep in serious conversation. Claire was glad she knew now what Mr. Hammond was involved in, or her suspicions would have been roused all over again.
Back in the elaborately decorated great parlour, the carpets had been rolled up, and as the men rejoined the ladies, the musicians began to play.
Mr. Hammond approached Claire with a gallant bow. “May I have the honor of the first dance, Miss Summers?”
“I would be happy to, but I have not danced in a few years. I’m afraid I don’t know the latest dances.”
“Nor I. That’s why I had a private word with the musicians and requested a few older, more familiar dances.”
“That was clever.”
