A Lasting Impression

the toast—Mr. Holbrook, she assumed. With any luck, they wouldn’t meet again. And if they did, he might not remember where he’d seen her. But even if he did remember, she told herself, it was no crime to visit a shipping company.
    Sutton touched her arm. “Would you excuse me for a moment?”
    “Certainly.” She watched him disappear into the central parlor.
    “Miss Laurent, you organize a wonderful party.”
    Claire turned to see Mildred Holbrook—and the man beside her—and felt herself tense. “Thank you, Mrs. Holbrook. I hope you both had a wonderful time.”
    “Oh, we did, my dear. As I told Adelicia earlier, this reception will be remembered for years to come.” Mrs. Holbrook gestured beside her. “I don’t believe you and my husband have met yet.” She made the introductions.
    Mr. Holbrook bowed. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Laurent.”
    “And you as well, sir.” Claire curtsied, wanting to believe he didn’t remember her, and yet the keenness in his eyes hinted otherwise.
    “Oh!” Mrs. Holbrook gave a little gasp. “I need to get my coat.”
    “Please . . .” Claire said, welcoming the excuse to leave. “Let me get it for you. It’s no trouble.”
    “Nonsense.” The older woman patted Claire’s hand. “I know right where it is.”
    With a sinking feeling, Claire watched Mrs. Holbrook go.
    “So, Miss Laurent”—Mr. Holbrook studied her—“how are you enjoying being Adelicia Acklen’s personal liaison?”
    “Very much, sir.” Claire briefly met his gaze. “I appreciate the opportunities she’s given me.”
    “I’ve heard from a very reliable source that you’re doing a splendid job.”
    “Thank you, sir. It certainly is keeping me busy.” Claire assumed the “very reliable source” was Sutton, knowing they worked in the same law firm.
    Mrs. Holbrook rejoined them, coat buttoned up and with her husband’s black hat in hand. “I’m ready to go, dear, if you are.”
    Mr. Holbrook donned his hat. “Perhaps we’ll see one another again soon, Miss Laurent.” He turned to follow his wife, then looked back and gave her a grandfatherly wink. “Say, perhaps, if we both have something to ship.”
    Claire’s heart dropped to her stomach. She laughed and forced a smile as the couple left, but any question in her mind about the man remembering—or about the sharpness of his mind—vanished.
    She made her way toward the entrance hall, bidding guests good night. Through the open doorway into the central parlor, she spotted Sutton, and moved slightly to the left so she could see whom he was speaking with.
    Mr. Stanton.
    Sutton glanced in her direction, and Claire quickly looked away. But she looked back again in time to see the two men shaking hands. Sutton returned to her side, but something was different about him.
    “You look as if you’re planning your escape,” he whispered.
    “And you look as if you’re upset about something.”
    He shook his head. “I’m fine.”
    Across the salon, Cara Netta was surrounded by a host of admirers, as she’d been all evening, and she didn’t look the least bit tired. Spotting Mrs. Acklen, Claire nudged Sutton. “Who is that gentleman with Mrs. Acklen? She danced at least three times with him this evening.”
    He looked over. “That’s Dr. William Cheatham. He and Adelicia have been acquaintances for years. He’s a physician in town . . . and a widower. Much like your Mr. Stanton.”
    Claire caught the off note in his tone. “ My Mr. Stanton? You’re quite the humorist, Willister.” Her use of his first name didn’t earn her the smile it usually did.
    “You shouldn’t be surprised at the attention, Claire. You’re a vivacious, beautiful young woman. Men would have to be blind not to notice.”
    She knew he meant it as a compliment, but it didn’t sound like one.
    As dawn splashed pink across the eastern horizon, the remaining guests climbed into carriages and omnibuses, and Claire could hardly wait to fall into bed.
    Sutton gestured. “I believe one—or both—of us is being summoned to the helm.”
    She turned to see Mrs. Acklen making her way toward them.
    “I’m glad to find you together.” Mrs. Acklen motioned them to a private corner. “Madame LeVert and I have been speaking, and I have the most wonderful news. It simply won’t wait!”
    Claire felt a dread. If her wonderful news involved planning another reception anytime soon . . .
    “I’ve decided to take us all to New