Page 49 of The Sisters of Sea View
His sophisticated appearance was softened by a charming, boyish smile.
“Perfectly true. And who can blame me? I see my father did not exaggerate in the slightest. Four beautiful sisters and their equally lovely mother.”
Miss Stirling laughed. “You mistake the matter! I am merely visiting and too old to be a sister.”
“Not to my eyes.”
“This is our friend Miss Stirling,” Sarah explained.
“A pleasure. Then where is the fourth Miss Summers?”
Viola entered rather timidly, veiled bonnet in place.
“Ah, here is Viola,” the elder Mr. Hutton said.
Colin bowed. “A pleasure, miss. Everyone at Westmount sings your praises.”
Viola curtsied. “I doubt that.”
Sarah only belatedly noticed a third man behind the father and son. A man with brown skin and black hair. From India, she guessed. Viola had mentioned him.
She prompted, “And who is your friend?”
“Ah.” Mr. Hutton turned. “Almost forgot you back there. This is Armaan Sagar. Friend of Jack’s. Served in India together.”
Father and son stepped apart, and the third man advanced a short distance into the room and bowed.
“You are welcome, Mr. Sagar,” Mamma said.
“Thank you.”
Colin looked at Viola in her veil, his expression curious and expectant.
When no one explained, he said, “Going out? We can walk with you, wherever you like.”
“Oh, um, no need,” Viola said. “But thank you.”
“Well.” Mr. Hutton drew himself up. “We shan’t keep you. Simply wanted to meet you all and introduce Colin.”
“And we thank you for calling,” Mamma said. “Do come again.”
9
Bait the hook well, the fish will bite.
—William Shakespeare,Much Ado About Nothing
Late that afternoon, Sarah came up from the kitchen, bills of lading from butcher and greengrocer in hand. She walked toward the library to set them with the others before heading back down to help Mrs. Besley.
Entering the room they used as their office, Sarah drew up short, startled to find Mr. Henshall there. He stood atop the rolling library ladder, reaching above his head to feel around the top of the built-in bookshelves, where a few marble busts and other ornaments were arranged.
Suspicion washed over her anew. “May I ask what you are looking for this time?”
He turned, his fair face reddening, expression sheepish. “Your sister said I might borrow any book I liked while I was here.”
“There are no books up there. Only dust, I am afraid.”
He glanced at his hand, which was indeed grey with dust, then descended the ladder.
