Читать книгу An Unconventional Countess - Jenni Fletcher - Страница 12

‘He’s here again.’ Anna Fortini waited until the shop door had closed behind the last customer before narrowing her eyes at the window and scowling.

‘I know.’ Her assistant Henrietta raised a hand to her head, patting non-existent stray hairs back into place and batting her eyelashes coquettishly. ‘This is the third time this week.’

‘Maybe we can persuade him to actually buy something this time,’ Anna muttered, pushing her own very real stray hairs out of her face and wondering if she had time to carry a bucket of cold water up to the first-floor window and deposit it over the admirers below. Alas, she suspected not. In fact, she was quite certain the front door would open again the very moment she left the room and she had absolutely no intention of leaving Henrietta on her own. Tempted as she was to believe that her shop’s recent popularity with the young male population of Bath was entirely due to her baking, she was well aware that it had far more to do with her new and attractive assistant. Barely a day went by when she didn’t have to chase some lovesick swain or other off the premises, but this particular suitor was proving more persistent than the others. He was becoming an irritation.

‘There’s another gentleman with him this time,’ Henrietta murmured, coming to stand close beside her.

‘So I noticed. Another of your admirers, no doubt.’

‘Actually, he’s looking at you. Quite intently, too.’ Henrietta giggled. ‘He’s very handsome. I wonder who he is.’

‘If he’s anything like his companion, then I don’t care. They look like gentlemen.’

‘You always say that like it’s a bad thing. What do you have against gentlemen anyway?’

‘Plenty! And no giving biscuits away this time. Those samples are for customers, not—stop it!’ Anna looked around sharply, making a grab for her assistant’s arm as she started to wave. ‘You shouldn’t encourage them.’

‘Why not? It’s just a bit of fun. There’s no harm in that, is there?’

‘It depends on what kind of fun you both have in mind. I very much doubt it’s the same thing. Honestly, didn’t you learn anything from your last employment?’

The hurt expression on the girl’s face made Anna regret the words instantly. Henrietta had lost her position in a dressmaker’s shop after her employer’s son had formed a passionate, but unrequited, attachment towards her. She hadn’t done anything to encourage him, Henrietta had assured Anna when she’d first applied for the position as her assistant, only she was afraid that she might have acted naively by not immediately rebuffing his attentions, but then she hadn’t wanted to be rude, either... The inevitable result was that she’d been dismissed without references.

‘I’m sorry.’ Anna winced. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

‘I know.’ One of Henrietta’s most endearing qualities was her ability to forgive and forget. ‘And I’m sorry for waving, but I was only being friendly. You don’t think I’d be silly enough to fall for a gentleman, do you?’

Anna dropped her gaze to the biscuit samples set out on a plate in front of her. Yes, she thought silently. Yes, she did think that Henrietta was capable of having her head turned by an aristocratic appearance and a few charming compliments, but she didn’t want to say the words out loud. Over the past couple of months she’d become genuinely fond of the girl. She was certainly a far livelier companion than Mrs Padgett, her dour and disapproving predecessor. No one had ever come into the shop to see her. All in all, Henrietta’s hard-working and sunny disposition would have made her the perfect employee if it hadn’t been for her propensity to be friendly with every man who as much as glanced in her direction—and men were always glancing in her direction. To be fair, it would have been hard for someone so pretty not to attract male attention—Anna only hoped it wouldn’t lead her into doing something foolish one day.

‘Just remember that no matter how honourable they might seem, gentlemen like that don’t regard women like us as ladies.’ She threw another venomous glare in the direction of the window. ‘They won’t treat us like ones, either.’

‘How can you be so cynical?’ Henrietta made a tsking sound. ‘Sometimes a gentleman really is a gentleman.’

‘But most of the time he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.’

‘Good gracious, anyone would think...’

Henrietta bit her lip, leaving whatever anyone would think unspoken as the bell above the shop door jingled again and the two men entered finally.

‘Perhaps you could finish the window display, Henrietta?’ Anna gave her assistant a none-too-subtle nudge in the ribs. ‘While I deal with these customers.’ Then she lifted her chin, bracing both of her hands on the countertop before putting on her brightest, most insincere smile. ‘How may I help you, gentlemen?’

‘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.’