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‘Is that true, Mrs Fortini?’ Samuel led Anna out of the alcove, calling across the room to where her mother was standing in a crowd of what appeared to be gentlemen admirers. ‘Do you sing? Shall we perform a duet?’

‘It’s been a while since I performed for anyone.’ Mrs Fortini looked more than a little daunted by the idea.

‘For me, too, but perhaps we can muddle through together? If you’ll permit me to accompany you, that is?’

‘Oh...’ The look of determination that crossed Elizabeth Fortini’s face at that moment was identical to that of her daughter. ‘I’d be delighted, Captain Delaney.’

Chapter Twelve

Anna watched with a smile as her mother went to stand beside Captain Delaney—Samuel—at the piano. She was surprised by how well the evening was going. Even standing in the receiving line alongside the Baron and Baroness hadn’t been as bad as she’d feared. A few of the guests were customers she’d recognised, but all had greeted her politely and her mother had seemed to enjoy herself immensely, even recognising a few friends from her youth.

The only blot on the evening had been Samuel’s absence. After the first half hour she’d started to fear he wasn’t coming at all, though when he finally had arrived, she’d felt oddly tongue-tied and light-headed. She still did. Since she’d decided to let go of the past and put her prejudices aside she’d been forced to admit to herself just how attractive she found him. It was positively alarming how handsome he looked tonight in formal evening attire, the silvery shade of his jacket, enhanced by a diamond pin in his elegantly tied white cravat, emphasising the vibrant paleness of his eyes.

Now, to top it all off, he was playing the piano and singing, his voice a rich baritone to her mother’s clear and sweet-sounding soprano. Singing duets had been one of her parents’ favourite pastimes, though her mother had barely sung a note since her father’s death. Now Anna was glad to hear her voice again, albeit somewhat irrationally jealous. It made her wish that she’d inherited some of her parents’ musical ability, but unfortunately that had all passed to her brother.

Irrational jealousy aside, however, Samuel and her mother made a fine pair, holding their audience’s attention to the very last note.

‘You have a beautiful voice, Mrs Fortini.’ He was the first to offer his compliments, too, as the rest of the room started clapping. ‘How about this as an encore?’

He tinkled a few more bars and Anna felt as if her heart had just clenched. It was an old Italian folksong, one that her father had often sung around the shop, the words as familiar to her as the alphabet. For a moment she didn’t know whether to smile or cry, but then, seeing the look of mischievous enthusiasm on her mother’s face, she laughed instead. It was a joke to everyone present, a good one, acknowledging who they were without making any apology for it. And Samuel had thought of it. She felt so delighted, she could have kissed him.

The thought made the smile freeze on her face. It wasn’t just a thought, either. It was an image, too, and not a very discreet one. She wasn’t envisaging a chaste peck on the cheek. On the contrary, it was far more intimate than that, all lips and bare skin and hands, all joined together and searching, exploring, feeling... Her heartbeat stuttered and then quickened with a burst of pure longing. If it hadn’t been for the room full of people, she thought she might actually have acted upon it, might have marched across the room and throw

n her arms around him.

That was the moment he chose to look up. Just as a tremor of excitement coursed through her body, he looked straight at her, his eyes flashing with surprise followed by recognition.

For a few seconds, she thought that something must have happened to the room. All of the candles seemed to flare at the same moment, making it hotter and brighter and so airless that she could feel her breath coming in soft pants. Yet despite the heat, she shivered, as if they were sharing some kind of intimate moment, her whole body feeling tighter and more exposed somehow.

The song came to an end while he was still looking at her, his gaze never wavering despite the applause that erupted around them. Anna gave a start, the rest of the room coming back into focus with a jolt, feeling as if she’d just been shaken to her core.

‘What a clever idea for your mother to sing in Italian.’ The Baroness appeared at her side again. ‘She always was very talented.’

‘Yes.’ Anna stood up a little straighter, afraid of what the other woman might have just witnessed. ‘Very talented.’

‘Would you do an old woman a favour and escort me outside for some air? It’s so stifling in here I can hardly breathe.’

‘Of course, my lady.’

They made their way out onto the terrace at the back of the house, Lady Jarrow leaning on her arm for support, not that Anna was fooled by the performance. She’d never met anyone less frail. There had to be some ulterior motive behind the request and if the Baroness had just witnessed the look that had passed between her and her grandson, then doubtless it was connected with that. She was probably about to admonish her for looking at a possible earl in such an intimate way...

‘Do you know why I’m in Bath, Miss Fortini?’ Lady Jarrow dropped her arm the moment they were a few feet from the house, half-swathed in darkness.

‘Why?’ Anna blinked. It wasn’t how she’d expected her to begin. ‘I understood that it was for the Baron’s health, my lady.’

‘Quite so. It’s far worse than people know. Hector is very ill, although he hides it well, even from Samuel and me.’

‘You mean he hasn’t told you he’s ill?’

‘No.’ The Baroness fixed her with a hard stare. ‘I imagine that when you look at us you see a curious pair, two very different individuals living separate lives under the same roof, but the truth is that I love my husband deeply. We understand each other. He suspects that I know about his health, of course, but if he doesn’t wish to tell me outright then I respect his decision. It’s the way he wants it to be.’

‘So you think that he’s...?’ Anna couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

‘Dying? Yes.’ Lady Jarrow nodded firmly. ‘I know that he is. He’s weaker now than when we arrived in Bath.’

‘I’m sorry, my lady. I don’t know what to say.’

‘There’s nothing to say, or to be done about it, either. I’m telling you in the strictest confidence, as a secret from Samuel especially, not for sympathy, but because I want you to understand why I cannot leave Bath. Otherwise I would have marched my grandson to Staunton a long time ago. He ought to go, but he refuses.’

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