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‘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.’
