Читать книгу An Unconventional Countess - Jenni Fletcher - Страница 11

‘“Belles of Bath, purveyors of the finest quality confectionery.”’ Captain Samuel Delaney read out the words painted on a wooden sign beside a smart yellow-and-white-striped awning, then turned to confront his companion. ‘It’s a biscuit shop.’

‘Not just any biscuit shop.’ The Honourable Ralph Hoxley tapped a finger against the side of his nose. ‘The finest biscuit shop in the whole of England.’

‘The finest...?’ Samuel threw a quick look around, assuring himself that nobody else was in sight before shoving his fist none too gently into the other man’s shoulder. ‘Ralph, we may not be in the first flush of youth any more, but I draw the line at tea and biscuits in the middle of the afternoon.’

‘Ow!’ His companion rubbed his arm gingerly. ‘I say, that’s no reason to attack me. The biscuits are delicious, actually, but that’s not why we’re here.’

‘Then why are we?’

‘You’ll see in a minute. Now, stop complaining and come on.’

Samuel looked about him, inwardly debating whether or not to simply turn around and leave. Swainswick Crescent was less Palladian in style than most of the streets in the fashionable shopping district, though it was built in the same distinctive honey-coloured stone and had a somewhat charming aspect. It was also only a five-minute walk from the house his grandparents had rented on the Circus, but on the other hand he was bored and his curiosity was piqued. Heaving a sigh, he waited until a carriage had rolled past before crossing the street, amused to note that his companion kept just out of arm’s reach until they arrived at the shop windows.

‘There!’ Ralph pointed through the glass triumphantly. ‘Now look and tell me if she isn’t the most extraordinary creature you’ve ever seen.’

She? Samuel rolled his eyes. He might have guessed his wayward friend would only display this much enthusiasm over a woman, yet another unsuitable paramour most likely, but since he was already there... He threw a cursory look inside and then looked again, surprised to find that, for once, Ralph was right. Usually their tastes in relation to the opposite sex were a world apart, but this time extraordinary was exactly the right word.

The woman standing behind the shop counter was of medium stature, slender but not too slender, with a shapely figure and a mass of dark corkscrew curls barely contained in an unruly knot on the top of her head. They gave her an attractively dishevelled aspect, as if she’d just rolled out of bed, an effect exacerbated by the presence of a frilly white apron that put him in mind of a chemise. Unfortunately she was looking downwards, her features obscured by shadow as she tied a ribbon around a barrel-shaped tin, but what he could see of her face was square-shaped and extremely pretty. He couldn’t tell the colour of her eyes, but he would have hazarded a guess that they were the same coffee shade as her hair. He felt a strong urge to find out. Succeeded by an even stronger urge to shove Ralph off the pavement for seeing her first...

‘Isn’t she the most delectable morsel you’ve ever seen?’ If he wasn’t mistaken, Ralph actually licked his lips.

‘Not bad.’ Samuel stepped away from the window and folded his arms. Unlike his companion, he had absolutely no intention of drooling over a woman in public, no matter how drool-worthy she might be. ‘Although it still doesn’t explain why you’ve dragged me halfway across the city. Much as I enjoy admiring your conquests, obviously.’

‘She’s not one of my conquests, not yet, and she never will be without your help.’

‘Really?’ He quirked an eyebrow, surprised and somewhat heartened by the news. If Ralph hadn’t yet managed to seduce her, then that meant... No. He stopped the thought in its tracks. His life was complicated enough these days without any romantic entanglements, even if she was the prettiest, most intriguing looking woman he’d set eyes on since arriving back in England four months ago. Longer than that, even. He couldn’t remember ever feeling such an instant attraction to someone. ‘You don’t usually have problems talking to the opposite sex on your own.’

‘I don’t.’ Ralph sniffed with irritation. ‘Only I need you to distract the other one.’

‘What other one?’

‘The termagant who runs the place. She’s over...’ His companion pressed his nose up against the glass and then started indignantly. ‘Wait, that is the other one! She’s the termagant!’

‘Her?’ Samuel unfolded his arms and took another, more eager look. The coffee-haired woman didn’t look much like a virago, not enough to justify the tone of disgust in his friend’s voice anyway, though he had to admit there was a certain brisk, no-nonsense efficiency to her manner as she walked around the shop, serving one customer before moving on to the next. She looked self-assured and capable, qualities he personally found to be virtues rather than faults in a woman. Damned if they didn’t make her even more attractive.

He let his gaze follow her while she worked. The wall behind the counter was essentially made up of just shelves, stacked with different shapes and sizes of tin and a few trays of loose biscuits. Both they and the counter were made of dark wood, oak or beech maybe, though any suggestion of gloominess was dispelled by the shafts of yellow sunlight streaming in through large, south-facing front windows. The whole place had a cosy, inviting ambience and he was feeling quite peckish. A biscuit at that moment sounded like a quite excellent idea.

‘I’m talking about the blonde!’ Ralph shot him an exasperated look.

‘What blonde?’

‘There!’

As if on cue a small head popped up above the counter, its owner having presumably been searching for something underneath, in a manner that put Samuel in mind of a Punch and Judy show.

‘She’s the one I brought you to see. My golden nymph.’ Ralph sounded as if he were drooling again. ‘Her eyes are almost as pale as yours.’

‘I trust that’s where the comparison ends.’ Samuel threw him a sardonic look. ‘Much as I like water, I doubt I’d make a very good nymph.’

‘Isn’t she delectable, though?’

Samuel narrowed his eyes, regarding the ‘nymph’ critically as she passed a small cloth bundle across to an elderly gentleman customer. She was undeniably attractive, though surely not a day above eighteen, with delicate elfin features, a minuscule waist and glossy hair swept up into an elegant chignon. Everything about her was sleek and shiny, in striking contrast to her messy-looking companion, though he found his gaze drawn inexorably back to the messiness.

‘Well?’ Ralph prodded him. ‘What do you think?’

‘About the nymph? She looks young.’

‘Not that young. Eighteen.’

‘Which you know because...?’

‘Because I asked her the last time I was here.’ Ralph pinched his lips together. ‘Before the termagant told me it was none of my business and chased me away.’

‘You must have made quite an impression.’

‘Harumph. You’d think she was the girl’s mother the way she hovers around her. As if I’m only after one thing!’

‘Aren’t you?’

‘And now you sound like her father!’ Ralph looked affronted. ‘Can’t a man enjoy a little casual flirtation?’

‘That would depend. Specifically on whether it’s the kind of casual flirtation you enjoyed with your mother’s lady’s maid last month?’

‘Ex-lady’s maid now. That’s why I’m banished from London, remember?’

‘Exactly.’

Samuel took a step back from the window and folded his arms again. He and Ralph had been friends at school, getting into all kinds of adolescent scrapes together, right up until the morning he’d walked out and never gone back, but the intervening years had taken them in different directions, the navy for him, university and the life of a ton bachelor for Ralph. Inevitably they’d lost touch and now he was starting to remember why. It wasn’t just because he’d been busy fighting Napoleon. He liked to think that he’d grown up during the past ten years, but his old friend still seemed to have few interests beyond gambling, drinking and women. If it hadn’t been for Bath being so quiet at this time of year, he might have avoided renewing the acquaintance entirely.

He stifled a sigh, wishing he’d taken up Admiral Northcott’s invitation to visit his house that afternoon instead. A few hours of discussing naval tactics and studying nautical charts with a retired septuagenarian sounded infinitely preferable to helping Ralph conduct yet another flirtation. If flirtation was really all he intended... That morning, however, Northcott’s invitation had made him far too melancholy. It was bad enough feeling homesick for a ship, but the idea that his naval career might be over barely a year after he’d achieved the long sought-after rank of Captain was depressing beyond words. Maybe he oughtn’t to have put his uniform aside so soon, after all. At least wearing it made him feel as if he still belonged somewhere. Instead, here he was, standing on a street in the middle of another aimless afternoon, trapped between two possible futures.

‘We’ll just wait for these customers to leave.’ Ralph was already straightening his cravat and tugging at the lace trim of his cuffs.

‘Will we?’ Samuel drew his brows together, jolted back to the present. ‘I don’t remember agreeing to help you. What exactly are your intentions?’

‘My intentions?’ Ralph’s expression was almost ludicrously outraged. ‘I say, when did you become so passé?’

‘Around the same time I learned that actions have consequences. I won’t help you to ruin the girl.’

‘I’ve no intention of ruining anyone. All I’m doing is enjoying the view, so to speak. A man has to pass the time somehow in Bath.’ Ralph leered. ‘Now you distract the termagant so that I can have a few minutes alone with my nymph.’

‘And how do you propose that I distract her? Especially if she’s as fearsome as you say?’

‘Flirt with her! You used to be quite good at that as I recall, even if all you talk about these days is boats. You know, if I’d spent most of the past decade at sea, I’d want to do a lot more than flirt when I came back on shore. Isn’t there any woman in Bath who interests you?’

Samuel threw a quick glance back through the shop window. Yes, there was definitely one and the thought of distracting her was distinctly, apparently irresistibly, enticing.

‘Just think of it as another battle. Imagine that she’s...’ Ralph paused thoughtfully ‘...what was the name of that French Admiral you trounced again?’

‘Villeneuve.’

‘Right. Imagine that she’s Villeneuve and you need to keep her occupied while I break through her line like Nelson. It’ll be just like Trafalgar all over again.’

Samuel felt a muscle twitch in his jaw. Comparisons to his former commanding officer aside, he had the distinct suspicion that Nelson wouldn’t have approved of what they were about to do, either. On the other hand, what harm was there in enjoying the view? Just to pass the time for a few minutes?

‘All right.’ He flexed his shoulders, ignoring a prickle of conscience as he prepared for action instead. ‘For King and Country...’