Page 49 of The Seaside Homecoming
Emily smiled. “Just as I like it.”
When the two were seated at the small table in Claire’s room, Emily sipped her tea, then asked, “How are things going here?”
“All right so far. Although I am supposed to be thinkingof ways to increase business and have not a clue how to go about it.”
“I could help you write a new advertisement. I have written several for Sea View. And writing is my specialty, after all.” She winked.
“Yes, please.” Claire wasted no time in providing paper and ink.
She and Emily spent several minutes composing an advertisement announcing Broadbridge’s new management and the continuation of its excellent service and commodious accommodation.
Then Emily returned the quill to its holder. “Now, tell me about Mr. Hammond. How on earth did this business arrangement come about? And is it only a business arrangement?”
“Yes, of course it is. Don’t be a goose!” Ignoring the heat rising up her neck, Claire went on to tell Emily about the newspaper advertisement she had answered.
“Quite brave of you, not knowing what sort of man had written it.”
“Brave or foolish? Perhaps I am the goose.”
“And what sort of a manisthe dashing Mr. Hammond?”
“Dashing? Do you think so?”
Emily nodded, eyes sparkling. “I am happily married, yet I still have eyes, have I not?”
Yes, he is handsome, Claire inwardly allowed, but what sort of man was he? That was more difficult to answer. Thinking aloud, she began, “He’s a widower. And seems a caring father to his daughter.”
“Ah. I noticed him in church with a little girl. So his wife was...?”
“From India, I believe.”
“Was he there with the East India Company, like Viola’s husband, Major Hutton?”
“I don’t know. He’s rather private—secretive, even—about his past.”
Claire told her about the foreign languages, coins, and guests. His evasive answers when asked about his prior profession. His out-of-bounds study.
Excitement brightened Emily’s face. “Maybe he is a spy!”
“No, I don’t think so,” Claire said, then frowned. “Wait—a foreign spy or a British spy?”
“A British spy, we hope. A foreign spy could be frightfully dangerous if found out.”
“What would any spy be doing in a boarding house?”
“Perhaps it is a cover—a place to meet with foreign informants without raising suspicion. Or ... now that the wars with France and America are over, maybe he has returned to England to start a new life. Oh! Maybe he has assumed a new identity as well. Hammond might not even be his real name.”
“Goodness! You have quite the imagination. Then again, you always did. Still reading a great many novels?”
“Yes. Writing one too.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
Emily drew in a sharp breath. “Perhaps he is even a famous spy, and that’s why his name seemed familiar to James—if he did not change it, that is. How romantic!”
But Claire saw nothing romantic about living under the same roof as a man spying for or against his country. In fact, she found the notion quite unsettling.
Emily set down her cup. “Just supposition, of course. Perhaps James will find out more about him.”
