I smiled too. Iknewhe’d had a reason to be absent. Why had I doubted?
“Mr. Kent,” Lady Winfield said, “if it is agreeable to you, I would love to serve as Hannah’s chaperone tomorrow night so you and Lord Winfield can enjoy the card room.”
“I don’t partake in playing cards,” Papa said. “I’ve seen far too many of my parishioners lose their fortunes at the tables. But I should be happy to enjoy Lord Winfield’s company, and I am certain Hannah will enjoy the ball far more with you as her chaperone.”
“Wonderful,” Lady Winfield said to Papa. “Hannah, seeing as I am now in your employ, Oliver will be glad to dance the supper set with you.”
Ollie looked up mid-bite at his mother and held her gaze for a long moment, some unspoken bit of communication passing between them.
Uncomfortable, I smoothed the napkin in my lap. Perhaps he didn’t like Lady Winfield meddling in his affairs.
Finally, he looked at me, an easy smile on his face. “What say you, Miss Kent? Would you—”
“I would.”
Despite his reticence, I had no hesitation. I’d come to Summerhaven to begin my life with Ollie, and that was precisely what I intended to do.
“Very good,” Lady Winfield said. “Damon, who will you dance the dinner set with?”
“No one,” Damon said, without so much as glancing up from his plate.
“Not dance?” Lord Winfield snorted a laugh from the head of the table. “How absurd.”
Lady Winfield placed her hand on her eldest son’s arm. “There is always a shortage of eligible men. There must be someone who could entice you into dancing at least one set.”
“No,” Damon said between bites of food.
“No?” Lord Winfield repeated. “You will dance tomorrow night and fulfill your obligations. I will not pass my title to a dead line, Damon. If you refuse your duty to this family, you also refuse the benefits thereof. Do I make myself clear?”
Damon gave his father a scathing glare. “Often and rather forcefully.”
“Good.” Lord Winfield nodded. “You’ll dance the first set with Lord Rumford’s daughter.”
Damon said nothing to this, but Lord Winfield resumed his meal as if satisfied. The scene felt well-rehearsed. How often did father and son act out some version of this same performance?
I felt unsettled the remainder of dinner.
When at last Lady Winfield announced it was time for us women to retire to the drawing room so the men could resume their talk of business and politics over a glass of port, I quickly rose and followed her out of the dining hall.
“Tell me about your coming-out,” Lady Winfield said as we walked down the corridor toward the drawing room. “I regret to have missed it.”
We’d just begun making preparations for my coming-out when Mama had fallen ill. Although Mama had wanted to invite Lady Winfield to attend the special event, Mama had insisted my coming-out happen sooner rather than later, which I was now glad for. Had we procrastinated, Mama would not have been well enough to attend.
I told Lady Winfield about all the wonderful things—the opulence of the queen’s rooms and the delectable desserts.
“And your first Season? How was it?”
“I have not yet had a proper Season,” I admitted. “Directly after my coming-out, Mama’s health worsened, and we removed to Bath in hope of a cure.”
“Oh, my dear.” Lady Winfield hugged my shoulders.
I closed my eyes, welcoming her touch. Papa was affectionate, but not in the same way Mama was, and we rarely embraced. I missed this comfort.
“Well, I cannot give you a proper Season, but I can spoil you while you are here.” She smiled softly, and it was obvious that she’d been born to be a countess. So kind and graceful.
We talked for a little time more about London. Her ears perked up when I spoke of my charity work with the church for the less fortunate. And I explained how after Mama had passed away, service had given my days meaning and purpose.
A little while later, Lord Winfield and Papa entered the drawing room. I glanced at the door for Ollie and Damon, but they did not come right away. So I excused myself to look at the art around the room. I had always been fond of fine art but did not have much talent for it.
