‘I did.’ A new suspicion occurred to him. ‘I wondered if you were speaking from personal experience?’
She took a step backwards as if he’d just threatened her, her face blanching visibly. ‘What difference would it make if I was?’
He clamped his brows together. She was right. Her past experiences, whatever they were, made no difference at all to their current situation. As much as he wanted to know the answer, it was none of his business.
‘Tell me, then...’ he said, swallowing a different question ‘...does your friend usually walk home on her own at this time of evening?’
‘Yes.’ Her expression was guarded now. ‘Although one of her brothers usually meets her on Pulteney Bridge.’
‘Good. In that case, give me five minutes and I’ll remember an urgent reason for myself and Mr Hoxley to be elsewhere. You have my word as a naval officer and...’ he paused, resisting the urge to grimace ‘...a gentleman. If you’ll trust me, that is, Miss Fortini?’
She didn’t answer at first, holding on to his gaze for a few intense moments, her expression turning gradually from indecision to conviction to something that made his pulse start to accelerate.
‘Thank you, Captain Delaney,’ she said, nodding finally. ‘I believe that I do trust you. Five minutes, then.’ She dipped into a curtsy. ‘And the next time your grandmother would like some biscuits, I’d be more than happy to deliver a tin myself.’
‘I’ll be sure to tell her.’ He made a formal bow, but she was already turning away, waving a farewell to her friend before walking briskly towards one of the park gates.
Samuel felt an unexpectedly warm glow in his chest, followed by a pang of regret as he watched the subtle sway of her hips across the lawn. It was a pity that his future was so unsettled, otherwise she was exactly the kind of woman he would have been interested in: intelligent, capable and strong-willed. He’d almost fallen back into old ways that afternoon, the ones he thought he’d left behind when he’d joined the navy, but somehow Miss Fortini had stopped him. He’d been perilously close to steering off tack and she’d set him back on course. He actually felt grateful to her.
He heaved a sigh as she turned out of the gate and disappeared from view. It was really a pity...but it was also pointless to dwell upon what-might-have-been. Apart from anything else, she’d made her opinion of the aristocracy abundantly clear and, if she found out who he was besides a naval officer, who he might be anyway, then no doubt she’d walk away from him again even faster.
On the other hand, if events unfolded the way he wanted them to and he remained plain Captain Delaney, perhaps he might permit himself to visit her shop again one day. Not with Ralph obviously, especially since they were about to have the kind of full and frank discussion that would undoubtedly ruin their friendship for ever, but on his own and with honourable intentions this time. In another couple of months, perhaps, when the matter of his possible inheritance was settled...
In the meantime, it was probably best to keep away. He was developing an unfortunate appetite for biscuits as it was.
Chapter Four
Anna closed and latched the window shutters, drew two iron bolts across the shop door and then trudged up the back staircase to the parlour, wearily untying the ribbons of her bonnet as she went. A walk through Sydney Gardens had been the last thing she’d needed after a day that had started twelve hours before. Her neck felt stiff and her feet ached with tiredness, even more so than usual, but at least now she could rest.
From a shopkeeper’s perspective, however, she couldn’t complain. It had been another profitable day. She oughtn’t to complain at all, she chided herself, especially when she had so much to be grateful for—an honest and reliable source of income, a warm and dry home, and independence to boot. The shop that her parents had founded almost twenty-five years earlier had become so popular with the spa visitors of Bath that they’d eventually been able to buy the whole building on Swainswick Crescent, narrow and compact as it was. There were three floors: the shop and kitchen below, a parlour in the middle and two small bedrooms in the attic. The parlour was the biggest room overall, with one large window where her mother liked to sit and watch the comings and goings on the street below. No doubt she would have seen Captain Delaney and his irritating companion earlier. Anna wondered what she’d thought of them, not to mention her and Henrietta’s unprecedented early departure...
‘Good evening, Mama.’
She found the scene just as she’d expected, her mother sitting in her customary armchair with an open book in her lap.
‘Good evening, dear.’ Elizabeth Fortini looked up from her reading with a smile. ‘I was starting to wonder where you’d got to.’
‘Henrietta wanted a walk in the park so I said that I’d join her.’ Anna dropped down onto a sofa, telling herself that it wasn’t a lie exactly, even if it wasn’t the whole truth, either. ‘It was nice to get some fresh air.’
‘I’m surprised you had the strength after such a long day.’ Her mother tipped her head to one side sympathetically. ‘You work too hard, my darling. I wish I could help more.’
‘It’s not your fault, Mama.’ Anna gestured towards her mother’s swollen fingers. ‘I know you’re in pain.’
‘It pains me to see you looking so exhausted, too.’ Her mother stood up, wincing as she put weight on to her ankles. ‘I’ll make us some dinner.’
‘It’s all right, I’ll do it in a few minutes.’
‘You will not.’ Her mother limped slowly across the room. ‘I may not be much help in the shop any more, but I can still be useful in other ways. Now you have a rest and I’ll be back soon.’
Anna smiled gratefully, too tired to argue. She was almost too tired to eat, although she knew that she had to. More than that, she was tired of simply being tired, but there seemed to be no way around it. There was always so much to do. When she wasn’t baking, she was wrapping or stacking or cleaning or sweeping or preparing tins or doing one of the hundred other tasks that seemed to require her constant attention. Henrietta was an able assistant, but she only arrived at seven o’clock in the morning when the baking was already done and left again at four in the afternoon. Anna couldn’t afford to pay longer hours, which meant that any remaining jobs fell to her and they were...relentless.
Yawning, she tipped her head back and closed her eyes. Things hadn’t been so bad while her father was still alive. After the swelling in her mother’s joints had started ten years before, first in her fingers and toes, then in her hands and feet, Anna had taken on more and more of her responsibilities in the shop and enjoyed them, too. She’d enjoyed running a business, unlike Sebastian who’d gone off in search of adv
enture the moment he’d turned seventeen. She’d been the one to suggest they start making cinnamon and rosewater-infused biscuits and to start offering tins as well as cloth-wrapped bundles.
In return, her father had taught her everything he knew, which was a great deal, but unfortunately not how to find extra hours in the day or how to go without sleep, either. His sudden heart failure had left her with a shop to run as well as an ailing, grieving mother to take care of. Not that she resented either task, but it was hard sometimes not to feel trapped in an endless cycle of monotonous chores. No matter how much she saved, it still wasn’t enough for a holiday—just a few days, or weeks preferably, to break free of the routine and maybe travel a little. It didn’t have to be far, just somewhere different. Somewhere to enjoy a little free time to read or to walk or to simply lie around daydreaming...
For some reason, the thought of daydreaming conjured up an image of Captain Delaney. His hair, somewhere between chestnut and auburn, those startling pale eyes and that deep voice that made her insides feel curiously soft and malleable, like an undercooked biscuit. He’d looked so handsome waiting for her and Henrietta in the park that she’d almost been tempted to take his arm when he’d offered it to her, but common sense had prevailed. She’d known better than to trust a gentleman.