Page 54 of The Seaside Homecoming
A shadow passed over his face, and he seemed about to refuse when the service door behind them opened and Mira dashed into the hall, a doll hanging limp in one hand, half a biscuit in the other. “Miss Summers! Miss Summers! I tore Dolly’s dress. Please, can you repair it?”
Noticing their visitor, the little girl stopped abruptly and pressed herself to Claire’s side, her eyes fixed on the man with wary curiosity.
The man, too, seemed arrested and again lowered himself to the girl’s height, though there were no lemon drops to retrieve this time. His gaze traced Mira’s face, his eyes warm. “Good day, little one. A pleasure to see you again.”
From somewhere above, Sonali called, “Mira! Come!”
Claire gently turned her toward the stairs. “I am sure Sonali would mend it for you. Why not ask her first? If she cannot, I will see what I can do.”
“Very well.” Mira bounded up the stairs.
When Claire looked back at the man, she found him standing once again, still staring in the direction the girl had disappeared.
“You will think me foolish, but seeing her reminds me of home. Of the family I once had.” Almost to himself, he added, “And lost.”
“Not foolish at all. Quite understandable.”More than you know.
He explained, “In London, I saw many people like myself. Not here.”
A thought pinched his features, and he turned his focus to her, studying Claire inquisitively. “When we met before,I thought you seemed familiar. But now ... Mira called you Miss Summers, did she not?”
Claire hesitated, fearing what he might have heard about her, then replied, “She did.”
“I wonder if you are related to the Summers family here in Sidmouth. I see, or at least imagine, a resemblance. In fact, you look like Emily Summers, now Mrs. Thomson, sister to Major Hutton’s wife.”
Claire nodded. “Viola, yes. I am their eldest sister.”
“Ah. I have heard her mention another sister in Scotland but not here.”
“I had just arrived from Edinburgh when we met.”
“That explains it. Though I wonder why you are...” He glanced around the hall, then cleared his throat. “I have no wish to pry. Actually, I might wish to pry, but I shall resist.” A corner of his mouth turned up.
“Thank you.”
Again the service door opened, and Mrs. Ballard appeared. “Miss Summers? I need you belowstairs. Mary has broken another cream pitcher.”
“One minute.”
“I can see you are busy,” Mr. Sagar said. “I shall await Mr. Hammond at the ... Old Ship, did you say?” The half grin faded. “Very well, that is where I shall be.”
Sometime later, Mr. Hammond returned from his climb, looking satisfied, if winded, his color heightened by the exercise.
Claire met him at the door.
“Armaan Sagar came by while you were out. The morning room and parlour were occupied, so I suggested he wait for you at the Old Ship Inn.”
A frown line appeared between his brows. “The Old Ship? Why?”
“I was not sure where two men would meet to talk. And you’ve told me to stay out of your study, so I did not ask him to wait there. Have I made a mistake?”
She took in his anxious frown with mounting concern. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t like the thought of him there, surrounded by rough men in their cups. Not everyone is small-minded, of course, but that place has a reputation for lawlessness.”
“In that case, perhaps you had better change and go over there.”
“How long ago did he set off?”
