“Oh, there’s Mother,” Hannah said, spotting Delores as she came down the stairs. “You two enjoy the dinner. I’ve got to go say hello.”

Hannah hurried to the bottom of the stairs and greeted her mother. And then she stared up expectantly. “Where’s Winthrop?”

“Parking the car in the lot. He dropped me off right by the door. He’s just so considerate that way.” Delores Swensen waltzed into the room, looking for all the world like a grand duchess. “Would you take my coat, dear? I see a spot at that table over there that would be just perfect for us. Winthrop’s gauche, you know.”

“Gauche?”

“In the true sense of the word.”

“You mean… left-handed?”

“That’s right. He needs to sit at the end of the table on my left. Most people don’t realize what a true handicap that is. Practically everything is designed for right-handed people.”

“No doubt,” Hannah said, accepting what she suspected was a new dress coat from her mother.

“Do free yourself up soon and come over to meet Winthrop, dear. He’s been asking about you. And remember, we added the orange juice concentrate as a modern innovation to dear Lady Hermoine’s Chocolate Sunshine Cake.”

Hannah greeted a few more people, and then she spotted what could only be described as a dapper gentleman coming down the stairs. It had to be Winthrop. Hannah eyed him suspiciously as he walked toward her mother’s table, smiling a greeting.

Delores caught Hannah’s eye and waved. It was an order for a command appearance. Not one to dare resist such a summary summons, Hannah turned on her heel, squelched the urge to salute, and headed straight for her mother’s table.

“You must be Hannah,” her mother’s companion stated, shooting to his feet as Hannah approached them. “So nice to meet you, my dear. Delores told me you were the beauty in the family.”

Hannah resisted the urge to accuse Winthrop of being a bald-faced social liar and gave a polite little laugh. “She must have gotten me mixed up with my sisters. But anyway, we meet at last. Mother’s told me a lot about you.”

“All good, I hope?” Winthrop asked, exuding confidence that his question would be answered in the positive.

“Naturally.” Hannah smiled, taking in her mother’s significant other at a glance. Winthrop Harrington II matched Hannah’s mental picture of a Regency romance heartthrob, and that meant he was right up her mother’s alley. He was suave, sophisticated, handsome in a quietly understated way, and from the way his clothing fit, it had bee tailored just for him. Winthrop exuded an air of quality, and he looked as if he wasn’t hurting for cash, or what her mother would refer to as blunt if she were in Regency mode. Still, Hannah wasn’t convinced Winthrop was all he claimed to be, and she eyed him the way a wary rabbit might regard a snake.

“Is the antique cake knife here, dear?” Delores asked, reacting to her daughter’s silence and seeming to sense that Hannah was contemplating the wisdom of asking Winthrop some embarrassing questions.