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‘I still shouldn’t have spoken so bluntly.’
‘Yes, you should have. I’d be a hypocrite if I objected to plain speaking just because it was about me.’
‘Are you suggesting some kind of parley, Miss Forti—Anna?’
‘No.’ She shook her head though her eyes were soft. ‘I’m suggesting a formal declaration of truce, if you’ll agree to one?’
‘Then a truce it is, but I’m still sorry.’
‘Apology accepted. And, while we’re apologising to each other, I’m sorry if you’ve had a difficult time since. It must be very hard, waiting to find out whether or not you’re going to inherit.’
‘It is. I like visiting my grandparents, but my ship is my home. I miss having a sense of purpose, too. Waiting around like this makes me feel...’
‘Adrift?’
‘Something like that.’ He made a wry face. ‘Forgive me, I don’t mean to complain, especially when my position is in many respects so enviable.’
‘But it can be hard to remember how we ought to feel.’ She put a hand on his forearm, her tone earnest. ‘I do understand what you mean. Everyone wants to have control over their own life. I have a sense of belonging and purpose. My parents actually gave me a shop and yet sometimes I feel as if I’m drifting along, too, in a current I can’t escape.’
‘How so?’ He let his gaze drift over her face. They were standing so close that if he moved his own forward just a little...
‘Sometimes I wish I could have chosen a role for myself, as you did with the navy.’
‘Indeed? What is it that you would have chosen?’
She lifted her shoulders and then dropped them again with a sigh. ‘I don’t know. I suppose I don’t let myself think about it because there’s nothing I can do to change anything. It was always just presumed that I would take over Belles, but if there was one thing I could change...’ She stopped and bit her lip.
‘Yes?’
‘Nothing. It’s not important.’
‘It is to me.’
‘Well...’ She threw a quick glance over her shoulder as if she were afraid of someone overhearing. ‘Baking! I detest it. If I could avoid it, then I’d never bake another biscuit again in my life!’
‘Baking?’ He gaped at her in astonishment for a few seconds and then burst out laughing.
‘Shh!’ She gave his sleeve an admonishing tug. ‘People will wonder what we’re talking about.’
‘But they’ll never guess. Who would guess that the famous Belle of Bath doesn’t like baking?’
‘I can’t help it. I never particularly enjoyed it, but I liked helping to run the shop with my father. Only after he died, my mother’s hands were already too stiff for baking and I felt so...trapped, somehow. I know it sounds ungrateful, but it felt like more of a burden than a gift.’
He sobered instantly. ‘Does your mother know how you feel about it?’
‘No!’ She looked shocked by the idea. ‘She already worries about me. I’ve never told anyone else, not even Sebastian.’
‘Then I’m honoured that you chose to tell me.’ He pressed a hand over the one resting on his arm. ‘Your secret is safe, I promise.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Anna...’ He seemed to enjoy saying her name now, especially when he was staring deep into her eyes. They looked very big all of a sudden, even darker and more enticing than usual. So enticing that he felt as though he were being drawn towards them. Towards those full rosebud lips, too, the same shade of pink as her cheeks...
‘Time for some music!’ His grandmother’s voice broke the spell, reverberating around the room with the force of a small cannon.
‘Do you play the pianoforte?’ He jerked upright again, surprised to find how close his head had just come to hers.
‘I’m afraid not.’ If he wasn’t mistaken, she pulled away at the same moment. ‘Or sing either, although my mother has a beautiful voice.’
