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‘Annabelle.’ He felt inordinately pleased to discover her first name at last. ‘But aren’t the biscuits called Belles?’
‘Yes,’ Ralph yawned, ‘but they were named after her. The whole shop was, in fact. Her parents set up the place just after she was born, so Henrietta says, and they named both it and the merchandise after their baby daughter. It’s ironic really, such a sweet name for such a shrew.’
Samuel folded his arms, choosing to ignore the last comment. ‘What happened to her parents?’
‘Oh, the father died a few years ago, but the mother’s still around. She doesn’t work any more, something to do with ill health apparently, but she’s even more famous than the daughter. Notorious, actually.’
‘I don’t listen to gossip, Ralph.’
‘It’s not gossip, it’s fact. Do you remember the old Duke of Messi—?’
He was prevented from saying any more by the appearance of the ladies themselves, walking with varying degrees of enthusiasm along the footpath towards them. They were still dressed in their shop clothes, in matching yellow empire-line dresses, though now they both wore bonnets and shawls, too. The nymph’s headwear was pink, bringing out the slight strawberry tint of her hair, while Miss Fortini’s was light brown, contrasting with her dark curls to give her a coffee-and-cream appearance. Damn it if he didn’t crave a cup at that moment...
The younger woman walked straight up to Ralph with a small skip in her step, taking his arm with an enthusiastic smile. Too enthusiastic, Samuel thought privately, and certainly too trusting. Her yellow dress and hair gave her the appearance of a daffodil, her golden beauty blending in perfectly with the spring foliage around them. It gave him a twinge of unease. Such innocence could so easily be stamped on by the wrong kind of person. In natural daylight, moreover, she looked even younger and more vulnerable than she had in the shop, making him wish that he’d challenged Ralph on his intentions more thoroughly.
‘Shall we?’ He offered an arm to Miss Fortini, but she ignored it, sparing him only a cursory glance before starting along the path on her own.
‘So your name is Belle?’ he tried asking again, lengthening his stride to catch up with her quick pace.
‘Annabelle.’ She gave him a sharp look. ‘Although, as I believe I mentioned earlier, my customers call me Miss Fortini.’
‘Forgive me, I didn’t intend to be over-familiar, but I only just discovered that you’re the original Bath Belle.’
If he wasn’t mistaken, she gave a soft sigh. ‘For what it’s worth, yes, I am, or at least my parents presented us both to the world around the same time. It’s actually short for Annabelle Claudia Teresa Fortini, but I prefer Anna.’ She glanced sideways at him, the evening sunlight bathing her face in a reddish-gold glow. ‘So now you know all of my names, which is a great deal more than I can say about you and yours. Do you make a habit of being mysterious, sir, or am I simply not important enough to warrant an introduction?’
‘Ah, forgive me again.’ He drew his brows together in consternation, belatedly realising that she was right. Despite asking for her name, he hadn’t mentioned his own at all. ‘Captain Samuel Delaney at your service.’
‘Captain Delaney?’ Her footsteps faltered and then stopped, her prickly manner disappearing at once. ‘You’re a captain? In the army or navy?’
‘Navy.’
‘But you’re not in uniform.’
‘No.’ He flinched at the reminder. ‘I’m trying to accustom myself to not wearing it.’
‘Are you on shore leave?’
‘Something like that.’ He shrugged as she continued to regard him inquisitively. ‘I sustained an injury during a recent skirmish and the Admiralty has no more need of me at present. I don’t know when, or whether, I’ll be able to return to active service.’
‘It must have been serious.’ Her dark eyes swept over him as if she were searching for evidence of a wound.
‘Shrapnel.’ He touched a hand to his collarbone, his lips twitching with amusement. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been inspected so thoroughly, especially by a woman. ‘But it’s mostly healed.’
‘I’m glad.’ She dug her top teeth into her bottom lip, a small frown puckering her brow as if she were considering telling him something. ‘My brother, Sebastian, is in the navy,’ she said finally.
‘Indeed?’ He felt strangely honoured by the confidence. ‘What vessel?’
‘The Menelaus. He’s a lieutenant.’
‘That’s a good ship. I know Captain Marlow well.’
‘You do?’ Her brown eyes widened with enthusiasm, riveting on his face so intently that she didn’t even notice when Ralph touched a hand to her assistant’s cheek up ahead. ‘Is he a g
ood man?’
‘Very. We served together on the Asia six years ago when we were both lieutenants. He can make buttons out of cheese and he doesn’t like fish.’
‘Fish?’ She blinked. ‘You mean to eat?’
