Page 53 of The Seaside Homecoming
“Not at all. A definite improvement.”
“Are they not pretty?” Mira asked.
“They are indeed. Although you, my dear pumpkin seed, have more dirt on yourself than those flowers do.” He lookedat Claire. “And you have some on your face too, just there....” He reached out and wiped it from her cheek.
Her skin tingled from his touch, and embarrassment further warmed her face. “Th-thank you.” She ducked her head. “If you will excuse me, I need to fetch a can of water for them.” She thought she might splash some cool water on her burning face while she was at it.
“Allow me to water them for you,” he said. “And while I’m at the pump, I shall wash this little one’s hands and return her to Sonali.”
Claire thanked him and went down the outside stairs to the basement and into her own room. She washed her hands and face in her washstand basin and looked up at her damp reflection in the small mirror, her cheeks still flushed.
She reminded herself that she had experienced this giddy feeling of attraction once before. She had known Lord Bertram barely a fortnight and had believed herself in love with him. Believedhimwhen he said the same and convinced her to run away with him. He had seemed too good to be true ... and he was.
She had known William Hammond for even less time. Was she being foolhardy and gullible again?
In a small whisper, she warned herself, “Be careful, Claire.”
Later that morning, a knock sounded at the door while Claire and Mary were busy in the dining room. Claire went to answer it, hoping for the arrival of new guests. So far her puny efforts to increase business had been to clean up the place and plant a few flowers. Thankfully, there was Emily’s advertisement as well, although it had not yet run.
When she opened the door, a potential guest was not who she saw.
The tall Indian man stood there, dressed in gentlemen’s attire as before.Armaan.
His eyes widened upon seeing her. “Oh. I ... I have come to speak to a Mr. Hammond. I did not realize you were—”
“His business partner,” Claire blurted. She didn’t want him to assume she was Mr. Hammond’s servant or wife.
She opened the door wider and stepped back. “Do come in.”
He wiped his shoes on the mat, removed his hat, and followed her into the entry hall.
“I am afraid Mr. Hammond is out at present. Climbing Peak Hill, I believe.”
His dark brows rose. “For what purpose?”
“For the pleasure of it, he says. He likes the exercise.”
“Ah. I prefer riding. Or swimming.”
“May I give him a message?”
“Only that I called. I understand he wishes to speak to me for some reason. Why he should, I have no idea, as I have never met a William Hammond, as far as I recall.”
“And your name is Armaan...?”
“Armaan Sagar.”
Claire resisted the urge to reveal the truth, knowing it was not her news to tell. Especially with Mr. Filonov in the nearby morning room, humming to himself as he read the St. Petersburg news. And Mary in the adjacent dining room, putting away the breakfast china.
“I think you will be ... interested in what Mr. Hammond has to say.”
“Interested?” The man frowned. “Is he selling something?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. You are welcome to wait, although he might be some time yet.” Dishes clattered in the dining room, and Claire winced, hoping the girl had not broken anything.
She was not certain Mr. Hammond would want her to install the man in hisprivatestudy. And Mr. Jackson was currently meeting with a lace dealer in the parlour upstairs.
She searched her mind, wondering where gentlemen usually met to talk, then suggested, “Perhaps you might prefer to wait at the Old Ship? Or the assembly rooms at the London Inn? I understand men meet there to play cards.”
