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Samuel winced as his grandmother’s contralto tones boomed out across the Abbey courtyard. At least twenty heads turned in their direction as they emerged from the Pump Rooms and made their way towards Bath Street.
‘Yes, actually.’ After five decades of practice, his grandfather was unruffled by either his wife’s deafening volume or her cynical pronouncements.
‘I don’t know how you can bear to drink something that smells so revolting.’
‘It’s a natural spring, my dear. That’s how it smells when it comes out of the ground.’
‘Well, they might try to mask the odour somehow.’ The Baroness took Samuel’s arm and gave him a nudge in the ribs. ‘I’ve heard that sailors always carry a flask of rum wherever they go. I’d far rather drink some of that.’
‘I’m afraid I must have forgotten mine today, Grandmother, although I do know a rather good hostelry close by. I’m sure you’d fit right in.’
‘Your grandmother doesn’t fit into places, my boy, you know that. She simply takes over wherever she goes. If she’d been born a man, she would have been a general the day after she joined the army.’
‘Or, better still, an admiral in the navy,’ Samuel pointed out. ‘We could have won Trafalgar in half the time.’
‘You both know very well that I would have led a cavalry regiment.’ The Baroness looked down her nose at them reprovingly. ‘And made a damn fine job of it, too.’
‘Naturally.’ Samuel started to laugh and then stopped, his attention drawn by the sight of a woman’s head peering out from behind one of the pillars of the colonnade up ahead. She seemed to be hiding in the shadows, or trying to anyway, but there was something familiar about her profile and that mass of wild curls... Miss Fortini? He came to an abrupt halt, bringing his grandmother up short.
‘Samuel?’ The Baroness looked at him as if he were a disobedient horse. If she’d been wearing spurs, he wouldn’t have been surprised to find himself prodded. ‘What on earth’s the matter?’
‘Forgive me, Grandmother, but I’ve just seen an acquaintance I need to speak to. You both continue without me.’
‘Will be you back at the house for luncheon?’
‘I think so.’
‘You think so?’ This time she looked as if she were considering a swift kick to his flanks. ‘Well, don’t expect us to wait if you’re late.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it. Unless you’d care to take pity on me, of course.’
He grinned as she gave a contemptuous snort, waiting until she and his grandfather were a few feet away before weaving his way through the other pedestrians, heading for the covered walkway at the side of the street and then curving around so that he approached the pillar from behind. Miss Fortini was still there, still peering out from the shadows, her hands clutching hold of the stone pillar as if she were poised and ready to dart behind it. She wasn’t wearing any gloves, he noticed, or even a bonnet, just a shawl thrown haphazardly over her shoulders as if she’d come out in a rush. She was also clearly unaware of his presence, allowing him a moment to study the nape of her neck and the escaped dark ringlets framing each side of her head. They looked so soft and springy that he was tempted to curl his fingers around them.
‘Miss Fortini?’
He said her name gently, though she still performed a mini-pirouette, bumping the back of her head against the pillar as she let out a startled, albeit quickly muffled shriek.
‘Captain Delaney?’ She put a hand over her chest, her bosom rising and falling erratically as her expression turned from surprise to relief to embarrassment in the space of a few short seconds. ‘Good day.’
‘Are you all right?’ He started to reach for her head and then stopped himself. ‘That was quite a bump. I didn’t mean to startle you.’
‘Oh, it’s nothing.’ She waved her other hand dismissively. ‘I’m sure it looked worse than it felt.’
‘Ah...good.’ He studied her for a few moments in silence, struggling to make sense of her now guilty expression, before gesturing out at the busy street. ‘It’s a pleasant morning for a stroll.’ He tried to sound as if there were nothing unusual about her behaviour. ‘Is your shop closed today?’
‘No... I mean, yes. That is, just for a few minutes. I had something important to attend to.’ She lifted her chin, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth in a way that made her mouth look redder and distinctly plumper all of a sudden. Positively juicy, in fact.
‘Ah.’ He glanced enquiringly at the pillar and then back again. ‘Anything I might assist you with?’
‘Assist me?’ She blinked, her dark gaze moving over his uniform as if she were just noticing it for the first time.
‘Yes.’ He smiled. ‘You know, you remind me of my first Captain, Miss Fortini. He was a tyrant for inspections. Do I pass muster?’
‘Oh.’ Her eyes shot back to his, her cheeks reddening to match her swollen mouth. ‘I’m sorry, I was just thinking.’
‘About my offer of help? It was quite genuine, I assure you.’
‘Thank you. And thank you for what you did the other night. Henrietta told me that you took Mr Hoxley away like you promised.’
