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‘Good afternoon.’ The first man, the irritant, faltered mid-step, a lock of blond hair flopping across his face as his gaze followed Henrietta. ‘My friend and I were just strolling past when we had a sudden craving for chocolate.’
‘Oh, what a shame.’ Anna heaved an exaggerated sigh. ‘Unfortunately we don’t work with chocolate, which you might have known had you asked about our merchandise on one of your previous visits. We sell biscuits, just biscuits. Perhaps you might try the shop on...’
‘But I adore biscuits even more!’ The man grinned, exposing a row of dazzlingly white teeth. Definitely a wolf. ‘Perhaps your lovely assistant here might recommend something special?’
‘I’m perfectly capable of recommending—’
‘I’d like one of the big tins,’ the other man interrupted before she could finish, addressing her in an amused-sounding baritone that none the less carried a distinct note of command. ‘If it’s not too much trouble?’
Anna turned her head to glower and then felt her stomach perform a strange kind of bouncing manoeuvre instead. She’d been so focused on the irritant that she’d barely spared a glance for his companion, though now she seemed unable to look away again. Henrietta was right, he was very handsome and yet a mass of contradictions, too, with hair the colour of mahogany and eyes so silvery pale they resembled icebergs. He might have looked austere if it hadn’t been for his athletic build and a rugged aspect that seemed at odds with his finely cut and, she couldn’t help but notice, perfectly tailored tailcoat, midnight-blue waistcoat and crisp white shirt. His face was lean and tanned, too, somewhat surprisingly for Somerset in March, yet despite his youthful appearance—surely he couldn’t be any more than thirty?—there was already a web of fine lines around his eyes that crinkled when he smiled. Just as he was doing now, she realised, making her cheeks flush and her stomach bounce all over again.
‘Trouble?’ she repeated the word, trying to focus on what he’d just said. ‘Of course not. If it were trouble, then I’d be in the wrong profession, sir. Just allow me a moment to fetch one.’
She turned to climb a set of steps set against the shelves, glad to avert her face for a few moments while she berated herself, or more precisely her body, for its own foolish reaction. He was a gentleman! Albeit a handsome one and in an attractively ungentlemanly sort of way, far less foppish than his friend and with an air of self-possession and authority that surely accounted for all the stomach bouncing, but still a gentleman, and hadn’t she just been warning Henrietta about those? Besides, he could hardly have made his purpose there any more obvious if he’d had it printed across his forehead. He was a decoy, enlisted to divert her attention while his companion tried to seduce her assistant. Well, if he thought he could outwit or charm her so easily, then he could think again!
She reached for the nearest tin and started back down the steps, throwing a surreptitious glance towards the window as she descended. As expected, Henrietta was already deep in conversation with the first man, who was standing far too close for decency. Both details meant that she had to hurry.
‘Here you are.’ She deposited the rectangular-shaped tin in front of him with a clatter. ‘It contains an assortment of biscuits, sixteen in total, each individually wrapped in tissue paper.’
‘Just sixteen?’ Her customer rested one forearm on top of the counter, regarding the tin as if it posed some kind of dilemma. ‘May I see inside?’
‘If you wish.’ Anna removed the lid, struck with the uncharacteristic impulse to neaten her hair as he leaned closer. Not that there was any point in doing so when long experience told her the curls would only tumble straight out of her bun again, and not that she cared what this gentleman thought of her hair either, even when he was standing close enough to see every wild tendril, but something about the deep timbre of his voice made her self-conscious. She found herself tucking a stray coil behind her ear before she could stop herself.
‘There you are.’ She unwrapped one of the bundles of tissue paper, unveiling a cream-coloured round biscuit for his inspection, then waited in silence for several long moments until she couldn’t wait any longer. ‘Is something the matter?’
‘Not exactly. I suppose the tin just looked bigger from a distance.’ He rubbed a hand across his chin as if he were considering the problem. There were bristles there, she noticed, another ungentlemanly contradiction, though she supposed it was nearing the end of the day. They were the same dark auburn shade as his hair and looked softer than she would have expected bristles to look, positively strokeable, in fact... She gave a startled jolt and lifted her gaze determinedly back to his eyes, irritated that any gentleman could have such a distracting effect on her.
‘I’m afraid this is the biggest tin we do.’
‘Ah. Pity.’ He laid his hand down flat on the counter beside hers, so close that their fingers were nearly, but not quite, touching. To her surprise, his skin was rough and weathered-looking as if, despite being a gentleman, he was used to manual labour. ‘They’re for a special lady, you see, and I wouldn’t want to appear churlish.’
‘Indeed?’ She tugged her own hand away, heat rising in her cheeks. ‘Then perhaps you might want to consider two tins? Or a different present altogether?’
‘But these look delicious.’ He seemed undeterred by her sarcasm. ‘And of course some would say that quality is more important than quantity, only I’m afraid that this particular lady is rather...’ he paused, lowering his voice to an intimate undertone ‘...voracious in her appetites.’
‘I’m sure she’d be delighted to hear you say so.’ Anna straightened her shoulders, feeling her temper start to escalate. How dare he talk to her about appetites, voracious or otherwise? No gentleman would ever speak to a lady in such an unguarded fashion! The words encouraged her to be indiscreet, too. ‘Well, I suppose that size matters to some people. Perhaps you’ve disappointed her with something small before?’
She put her hands on her hips with a look of defiance, expecting him to storm out of the door in an offended rage, surprised when he burst into loud laughter instead.
‘The tin it is.’ He pushed himself up off the counter, eyes glinting with humour. ‘And I’ll just have to bear whatever criticism my lady friend makes. Are the biscuits inside all the same?’
‘Only in shape.’ Anna rearranged the contents and replaced the lid quickly, trying to ignore the way his laughter seemed to vibrate through her body, like a breeze stirring ripples across a lake. It seemed to cause a strange quivering sensation in her stomach, too, lower down than before and somewhat alarming in its intensity. It made her feel even more agitated. If only he’d stormed out! Then she could have forgotten his existence and turned her attention back to Henrietta. Instead, annoyingly, she found herself wanting to hear him laugh again... ‘We make three types of Belle. Vanilla, cinnamon and rosewater.’
‘So the biscuits are called Belles?’
‘Precisely.’ She pushed the tin across the counter, shooting a pointed look from beneath her lashes. ‘You’re very quick, sir.’
Despite the insult, he laughed again. ‘Which is your favourite?’
‘None of them. I started baking when I was eight. After sixteen years, I can honestly say that I’ve lost my sweet tooth.’
‘But if you had to choose a favourite? So that I can particularly recommend one to my lady friend?’
‘She’s your lady friend.’ Anna pursed her lips disapprovingly. ‘If she’s so special, then I would have thought you might know her tastes better. Here...’ She picked up the plate of samples. ‘Try one.’
‘Thank you.’ He selected the darkest-coloured biscuit and took a bite, eyebrows lifting as he chewed. ‘Cinnamon? It’s delicious.’
‘You sound surprised.’ She lifted her own eyebrows to mirror his.
‘I am. I’m not usually fond of biscuits, but I could eat a dozen of these. Definitely my favourite.’
‘You haven’t tried the others.’
‘I don’t need to.’ He rapped his knuckles decisively on the countertop. ‘I’ll recommend this one whatever the consequences.’
‘Consequences?’ she couldn’t resist asking. ‘Are you likely to face those?’
‘Oh, yes. She’s quite a tyrant in her own way.’
‘Of course she is.’
‘But open-minded, too.’ He popped the last of the biscuit into his mouth. ‘I admire that in a person. Being judgemental is such an unattractive quality, don’t you think?’
‘I think it depends. There’s a difference between being judgemental and having high standards. Now, if that’s all, that will be four shillings.’
‘Ribbon?’
‘That costs more.’
‘Ah, but she’s worth it.’
‘Naturally.’ Anna narrowed her eyes, reaching under the counter for a roll of blue ribbon and then coughing loudly as she saw Henrietta’s companion touch her elbow.
‘That sounds nasty.’ Her own customer sounded amused. ‘Perhaps you ought to consult a physician about it.’
‘I’m perfectly well, thank you.’ She narrowed her eyes even further, though it was difficult to do so without actually closing them.
‘I’m relieved to hear it. Otherwise I’d have to suggest a visit to the Pump Rooms to take some of the waters, and it’s not an experience I’d recommend.’
‘Indeed? Then I wonder what you’re doing in Bath, sir?’ She gave the ribbon an aggressive snip with her scissors. ‘Isn’t it the start of the London Season soon? Perhaps you ought to be there, preparing yourself for balls at Almack’s and picnics at Vauxhall Gardens?’
‘Perhaps I should be.’ He gave a careless-looking shrug. ‘But what can a man do when his grandmother summons him?’
‘Your grandmother?’ She paused in the act of curling a ribbon.
‘My special lady, yes.’ The corners of his mouth curved upwards. ‘Who did you think I was talking about?’
‘I...’ She cleared her throat, willing the sudden onslaught of heat across her cheeks to subside. ‘Your wife, perhaps?’
‘Alas, I haven’t found a woman willing to put up with me yet. Hard to believe, isn’t it?’
‘Unfathomable.’ She finished curling the ribbons, trying to ignore an unwelcome frisson of excitement at the words. ‘There you are. I hope that your grandmother enjoys them. They were baked fresh this morning.’
‘Do you bake them yourself?’ He seemed in no hurry to be leaving, extracting a few coins from his coat pocket.
‘I do everything here myself. It’s my shop.’
‘You’re the proprietor?’ He looked impressed.
‘Yes.’
‘And the baker?’
‘And everything else.’ She lifted her chin proudly. ‘I do whatever needs doing.’
‘Then I compliment you, Mrs...?’
‘Miss Fortini.’
‘Miss Fortini.’ He repeated her name, his eyes lingering on her face in a way that made her wish she might plunge her head into a bucket of cold water. ‘Do you have a first name, too?’
‘Doesn’t everyone? But I share it with acquaintances, not customers.’
‘Ah. In that case it’s been a delight talking to you, Miss Fortini.’
‘Quite.’ She inclined her head and then twisted it pointedly to one side, focusing her attention back on Henrietta’s companion. ‘Now have you finished getting recommendations, sir, or did you only come to grace us with your presence again?’
‘Actually I’ve decided I’m not so hungry, after all.’ The irritant spun around with another wolfish grin. ‘However, I’ve just invited your charming assistant here for a walk, what with it being such a beautiful afternoon.’
‘So it is.’ Anna spoke quickly before her ‘charming assistant’ could agree to anything. ‘Unfortunately, as you may or may not have noticed, we have a business to run. Our customers can’t serve themselves.’
‘But we close soon,’ Henrietta interjected. ‘Couldn’t we leave just a little bit early for once?’
‘We still have cleaning up to do.’ Anna shot her a warning look.
‘Then perhaps I might wait and escort Miss Henrietta home? I’d be more than happy to do so.’
‘I’m sure you would.’ Anna gave a tight-lipped smile in return, reluctantly conceding that she’d been outwitted. Her own customer had already picked up his tin and tucked it neatly under his arm, though his expression was noticeably less triumphant than that of his friend. There was actually a small furrow between his brows as if he were displeased about something. It made a striking contrast to the way he’d smiled across the counter a few minutes before. No doubt that had just been a charming mask, one he felt able to drop now that his task as decoy was complete, but if he thought the matter was concluded, then he was very much mistaken. She wasn’t defeated yet!
‘Do you know...?’ She walked around the counter and across the shop floor to place a protective arm around Henrietta’s shoulders. ‘Now that I think of it, an evening stroll sounds most pleasant, after all. We’ll meet you in Sydney Gardens beside the grotto in half an hour, after we’ve tidied. That way we can escort Miss Gardiner home together.’
Chapter Three
Samuel marched up and down a picturesque-looking pathway between rows of willow and ash trees, ardently wishing that he’d been out when his old friend had called to visit him that afternoon. As amusing as he’d found his encounter with the pretty and prickly Miss Fortini, his conscience was bothering him quite considerably. No matter how tedious he found life on shore, he should never have gone along with Ralph’s plan. It had felt dishonourable somehow, his behaviour that of a rake, or even worse, his father! This walk struck him as a monumentally bad idea, too, but he was involved now whether he liked it or not. To his own chagrin, it was too late to walk away.
‘I say!’ Ralph called out to him from the bench where he was lounging, arms thrown wide as if he hadn’t a care in the world. ‘Why are you in such a bad mood?’
‘Because I don’t appreciate being dragged into your romantic exploits, that’s why!’ Samuel practically exploded. ‘That whole scene felt underhand. You said it was just a little harmless flirtation, nothing about walks in the park.’
‘Well, I call that very ungrateful. Here I’ve arranged a promenade with two very attractive young ladies and all you can do is complain.’
‘An hour ago you described one of them as a termagant.’
‘Yes, she is, isn’t she?’ Ralph chuckled unrepentantly. ‘I thought she was going to spit actual feathers when I offered to walk Henrietta home.’
‘You don’t need me to be here, too. You and the termagant can squabble over the girl together.’
‘Don’t you believe it. If it’s just me then she’ll plant herself between the two of us and I won’t get a word, let alone anything else, in edgewise. You can just tell she’s the sort who wants to stop everyone else having fun because she’s an old maid.’
‘She’s hardly an old maid.’
Ralph made a snorting sound. ‘I doubt she’s ever had a day’s excitement in her whole life.’
‘Leave her alone.’
‘Why? Do you like her?’ His old friend draped one leg over the other and regarded him thoughtfully. ‘Well, she’s attractive enough, I suppose. If I wasn’t so smitten with my nymph, then I might have considered her for myself. After all, her name’s practically famous in Bath. She’d be quite a conquest.’
Samuel stopped pacing abruptly. Attractive enough wasn’t exactly the phrase he would have chosen to use. Exceedingly pretty was more like it, with porcelain skin, a stubborn chin and eyes dark and deep enough for a man to drown in, which given his nautical background was a dangerous metaphor indeed. They’d turned out to be an even darker brown than he’d expected, only a shade away from black, and sharper than Ralph had given her credit for. She’d known perfectly well what they’d been up to from the moment they’d entered the shop, her hackles well and truly raised from the start. He certainly hadn’t deceived or charmed her.
Truth be told, the experience had been somewhat galling. He’d never been much of a lady’s man, but he’d flattered himself that he still possessed a reasonable degree of charm, on the rare occasions he chose to display it, that was. He’d favoured Miss Fortini with his most dashing smile and she hadn’t been swayed for a second. Teasing hadn’t worked, either. She’d given as good as she’d got and more, rebuffing his advances with flashing eyes and a dry wit that had amused him considerably. Her protective attitude towards her assistant had impressed him, too. Her concern for the girl was both laudable and touching, making him feel even guiltier by contrast. She certainly deserved better than to have to spend her time guarding against men like Ralph. It was no wonder she behaved like a termagant. Which she wasn’t.
‘What do you mean, famous?’ he asked finally.
‘Mmm?’ Ralph paused in the inspection of his fingernails. ‘Oh, she’s Belle. The Belle. Annabelle Fortini.’
‘Annabelle.’ He felt inordinately pleased to discover her first name at last. ‘But aren’t the biscuits called Belles?’
‘Yes,’ Ralph yawned, ‘but they were named after her. The whole shop was, in fact. Her parents set up the place just after she was born, so Henrietta says, and they named both it and the merchandise after their baby daughter. It’s ironic really, such a sweet name for such a shrew.’
Samuel folded his arms, choosing to ignore the last comment. ‘What happened to her parents?’
‘Oh, the father died a few years ago, but the mother’s still around. She doesn’t work any more, something to do with ill health apparently, but she’s even more famous than the daughter. Notorious, actually.’
‘I don’t listen to gossip, Ralph.’
‘It’s not gossip, it’s fact. Do you remember the old Duke of Messi—?’
He was prevented from saying any more by the appearance of the ladies themselves, walking with varying degrees of enthusiasm along the footpath towards them. They were still dressed in their shop clothes, in matching yellow empire-line dresses, though now they both wore bonnets and shawls, too. The nymph’s headwear was pink, bringing out the slight strawberry tint of her hair, while Miss Fortini’s was light brown, contrasting with her dark curls to give her a coffee-and-cream appearance. Damn it if he didn’t crave a cup at that moment...
The younger woman walked straight up to Ralph with a small skip in her step, taking his arm with an enthusiastic smile. Too enthusiastic, Samuel thought privately, and certainly too trusting. Her yellow dress and hair gave her the appearance of a daffodil, her golden beauty blending in perfectly with the spring foliage around them. It gave him a twinge of unease. Such innocence could so easily be stamped on by the wrong kind of person. In natural daylight, moreover, she looked even younger and more vulnerable than she had in the shop, making him wish that he’d challenged Ralph on his intentions more thoroughly.
‘Shall we?’ He offered an arm to Miss Fortini, but she ignored it, sparing him only a cursory glance before starting along the path on her own.
‘So your name is Belle?’ he tried asking again, lengthening his stride to catch up with her quick pace.
‘Annabelle.’ She gave him a sharp look. ‘Although, as I believe I mentioned earlier, my customers call me Miss Fortini.’
‘Forgive me, I didn’t intend to be over-familiar, but I only just discovered that you’re the original Bath Belle.’
If he wasn’t mistaken, she gave a soft sigh. ‘For what it’s worth, yes, I am, or at least my parents presented us both to the world around the same time. It’s actually short for Annabelle Claudia Teresa Fortini, but I prefer Anna.’ She glanced sideways at him, the evening sunlight bathing her face in a reddish-gold glow. ‘So now you know all of my names, which is a great deal more than I can say about you and yours. Do you make a habit of being mysterious, sir, or am I simply not important enough to warrant an introduction?’
‘Ah, forgive me again.’ He drew his brows together in consternation, belatedly realising that she was right. Despite asking for her name, he hadn’t mentioned his own at all. ‘Captain Samuel Delaney at your service.’
‘Captain Delaney?’ Her footsteps faltered and then stopped, her prickly manner disappearing at once. ‘You’re a captain? In the army or navy?’
‘Navy.’
‘But you’re not in uniform.’
‘No.’ He flinched at the reminder. ‘I’m trying to accustom myself to not wearing it.’
‘Are you on shore leave?’
‘Something like that.’ He shrugged as she continued to regard him inquisitively. ‘I sustained an injury during a recent skirmish and the Admiralty has no more need of me at present. I don’t know when, or whether, I’ll be able to return to active service.’
‘It must have been serious.’ Her dark eyes swept over him as if she were searching for evidence of a wound.
‘Shrapnel.’ He touched a hand to his collarbone, his lips twitching with amusement. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been inspected so thoroughly, especially by a woman. ‘But it’s mostly healed.’
‘I’m glad.’ She dug her top teeth into her bottom lip, a small frown puckering her brow as if she were considering telling him something. ‘My brother, Sebastian, is in the navy,’ she said finally.
‘Indeed?’ He felt strangely honoured by the confidence. ‘What vessel?’
‘The Menelaus. He’s a lieutenant.’
‘That’s a good ship. I know Captain Marlow well.’
‘You do?’ Her brown eyes widened with enthusiasm, riveting on his face so intently that she didn’t even notice when Ralph touched a hand to her assistant’s cheek up ahead. ‘Is he a good man?’
‘Very. We served together on the Asia six years ago when we were both lieutenants. He can make buttons out of cheese and he doesn’t like fish.’
‘Fish?’ She blinked. ‘You mean to eat?’
‘To do anything with, I imagine. Other than that, he’s a fair man with an uncanny ability to sense bad weather. Your brother couldn’t ask for a better captain.’
‘Thank you. I appreciate your saying so.’ For the first time since they’d met her smile didn’t contain the faintest hint of sarcasm. ‘You must be good, too, Captain Delaney. To reach such a high rank by the age of...’ she looked him up and down again ‘...thirty?’
This time he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. ‘You’re very direct, Miss Fortini.’
‘Yes, I know.’ She seemed unperturbed by the comment. ‘It’s a failing of mine, I suppose, but the problem is that I can never understand why. If I could, then maybe I could do something about it, but as it is...’ she shrugged ‘... I like to get to the point. It was only an observation, however. I didn’t mean to offend you.’
‘I’m not remotely offended, although I’m afraid your observation is slightly out. I’m a weather-beaten twenty-six, but you’re correct about my rank. In peace time, it would have taken a great deal longer to gain such a promotion, but things work differently in war.’
‘I suppose so.’ She nodded sombrely as they started to walk again. ‘Do you enjoy it? Being a sailor, I mean?’
‘I do. I’ve always loved the water. Swimming, sailing, fishing, even looking at it, so the navy suits me. I like the routine on board ship, too. It can be tedious, but it gives me a sense of purpose and it’s calming.’
‘Do you often need calming?’ She gave him a quizzical look.
‘On a daily basis at the moment. I’ve been on shore for four months and it feels like an eternity. I’m afraid of losing my sea legs.’
‘Sebastian loves the navy, too, but I wish he might come home for a while. The last we heard his ship was somewhere off the coast of South America, but I’m afraid of another big sea battle.’
‘It’s extremely unlikely. Napoleon doesn’t have enough ships left to risk another naval assault and it’s doubtful he’d want to anyway. Trafalgar was the longest day of my life, but at least the victory was decisive.’