An Unconventional Countess (Regency Belles of Bath 1)

‘Not a bit. I’ll have to raise my steward’s wages to match. I’m just glad you’re not closing the doors altogether. Belles is a Bath institution, after all, and you’re the original Belle.’

‘The Countess who smells of the shop.’ She smoothed a hand over his chest. ‘Of course, that’s only an insult if you don’t like the smell of biscuits.’

‘And who in their right mind doesn’t? Personally speaking, I adore it. I’m going to need a supply of Contessas just for the journey north.’

‘Are we going to share a carriage this time?’

‘What do you think?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m a newly married man. It would be remiss of me not to seize the opportunity of being in a closed carriage with my wife for two days. There are all sorts of things we can do to entertain ourselves.’

‘All sorts?’

‘Well, one sort really, with several variations.’

‘Mmm.’ She smiled lazily. ‘In that case, when are we leaving?’

‘Just give the order. Are you ready to start a new life with me, Countess?’

‘If you’re ready to leave the sea behind, then yes, Captain Delaney, I believe that I am.’

‘Well, then...’ he murmured, pressing a kiss onto the top of her head. ‘Clear the decks and anchor aweigh.’

Epilogue

Six months later

Henrietta bolted upright with a gasp, startled awake by the sound of a thud from downstairs. As she listened, there was another, and another, all in quick succession, muffled but unmistakable. She judged, by the pitch blackness outside her small window in one of the attic bedrooms above Belles, that it was still the middle of the night, which meant that whatever, or whoever, it was shouldn’t be there.

She tossed her blankets aside and flung her legs over the side of the bed, palms sweating and heart pounding like a drum, which was both terrifying and inconvenient since it made it impossible for her to listen for anything else. Slowly, she crept out into the hallway, pausing at the top of the stairs as she considered whether or not to wake Nancy, the Baroness’s former kitchen-maid-turned-shop-assistant. Much as she wanted some moral support, however, she decided against it. There were no sounds coming from below now, making her wonder if she’d dreamt the thuds, after all. She’d been so certain, but what if...?

Just to be sure, she descended the wooden staircase to the parlour, feeling her way as her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, taking care not to creak any floorboards, but that room was so still and silent and looking so much like normal that she began to relax and feel foolish. It was typical of her wayward imagination to run away with her. Thank goodness she hadn’t woken Nancy or she’d have to explain herself and...

A shiver raced down her spine at the sound of another distinct thud from below. Instinctively she reached for the nearest weapons, a pair of tongs and a metal shovel poking out of the coal bucket, before carrying on downstairs. Each step seemed to go on for ever, giving her sufficient time to terrify herself about what she might find. Thieves? Cutthroats? Probably not highwaymen since she wasn’t on horseback or in a stagecoach, though the image of a masked man still popped into her mind with startling clarity.

For the first time in months she wished she had a husband there to protect her. Once upon a time she’d thought of marriage as the answer to all of her problems, but after several upsetting episodes she’d come to realise that commitment wasn’t what most men had in mind when they looked at her. Now she was older and wiser, she understood the world a bit better and a husband was the last thing she wanted.

She was married to Belles now—and if there were thieves below stairs then she’d deal with them herself!

She braced herself, tightening her fingers around her makeshift weaponry as her foot touched the bottom step. The shop itself was completely swathed in darkness, which meant that the thuds had to be coming from the kitchen. Which struck her as odd since there wasn’t much there to steal except for a few sacks of flour and sugar and assorted baking utensils, but perhaps the thieves were hungry? She pressed her ear against the door to listen, stifling a yelp of alarm at the sound of footsteps inside. They seemed to be coming closer, too, as if whoever it was had heard her approach. If she didn’t act quickly, then the door would open and she’d be caught.

Unless she caught them first.

Without pausing to reconsider, she grabbed hold of the handle, gave it a quick twist and then shoved as hard as she could, knocking the wooden door against something large and heavy. There was a thwack, followed by a volley of expletives and then another thud, as if she’d just knocked someone off their feet. Seizing the advantage, she pushed again and jumped inside, swinging the shovel up over her head and thrusting the tongs out in front of her.

‘Get out!’ She tried to sound as threatening as possible, relieved to find that the thieves were in fact just one thief, sprawled on the flagstones behind the door.

‘What the blazes...?’ The man stared up at her with one hand clamped over his face. In the shadowy light of the still-glowing hearth, it made him look like the masked highwayman she’d envisaged. All she could make out were dark eyes, black hair and what looked like a red trickle streaming between his fingers.

‘Oh!’ She started forward and then stopped. Just because he was injured didn’t mean she should help him. If anything, it served him right!

‘You might give a man some warning when you’re about to open the door.’ He pulled his hand away, revealing a handsome, albeit bloodstained and somewhat swarthy, countenance. ‘I think you just broke my nose.’

‘Good! That’ll teach you to break into people’s property in the middle of the night! Now get out or I’ll scream for the night-watchman.’

‘Wait!’ He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief, waving it in the air like a flag of surrender before using it to wipe the blood off his face. ‘I didn’t break in. I have a key and I was trying not to make noise, if you must know, only things seem to have moved around since I was last here. Where’s Anna?’

‘You know Anna?’ Henrietta blinked in surprise, lowering the coal shovel a few inches.

‘All my life.’ He looked her up and down speculatively. ‘By the way, would you mind putting those tongs down? I’m afraid to ask what you intended to do with them, but they’re making me want to cross my legs.’