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From shopkeeper...
To earl’s wife!
Two things are certain: Annabelle Fortini makes the best biscuits in Bath and Samuel Delaney, the charming bachelor who’s just entered her shop, is trouble! Her mother’s unfair exile from society has taught Anna aristocrats can’t be trusted. Samuel may be a famous naval hero and reluctant heir to an earldom, but Anna can’t fall in love with him! Unless she can overcome her pride...and surrender to her heart!
JENNI FLETCHER was born in the north of Scotland and now lives in Yorkshire, with her husband and two children. She wanted to be a writer as a child, but got distracted by reading instead, finally getting past her first paragraph thirty years later. She’s had more jobs than she can remember, but has finally found one she loves. She can be contacted on Twitter @JenniAuthor or via her Facebook Author page.
Also by Jenni Fletcher
The Warrior’s Bride Prize
Reclaimed by Her Rebel Knight
Miss Amelia’s Mistletoe Marquess
Whitby Weddings miniseries
The Convenient Felstone Marriage
Captain Amberton’s Inherited Bride
The Viscount’s Veiled Lady
Regency Belles of Bath miniseries
An Unconventional Countess
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.
An Unconventional Countess
Jenni Fletcher
ISBN: 978-0-008-90124-0
AN UNCONVENTIONAL COUNTESS
© 2020 Jenni Fletcher
Published in Great Britain 2020
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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For my biscuit-loving grandmothers
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Note to Readers
Dedication
Historical Note
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Epilogue
Extract
About the Publisher
Historical Note
I grew up with a collector of Nelson memorabilia, so I knew it was only a matter of time before I wrote a story with a naval hero that referenced the Battle of Trafalgar.
This altercation, on the twenty-first of October 1805, proved to be one of the defining events of modern European history. The defeat of the combined French and Spanish forces by the English fleet, under the command of Vice Admiral Horatio Nelson, ensured that Wellington’s soldiers were kept supplied with provisions throughout the remainder of the Napoleonic Wars and established British naval supremacy for the next hundred years—up until the start of World War I.
The ship referred to in this story, the HMS Colossus, really did take part in the battle. I’ve tried to keep the details as accurate as possible, although the actual commander was a Captain James Morris. Fighting in the very midst of the action, the Colossus suffered the highest casualty figures of the British fleet and sustained so much damage that it had to be towed to Gibraltar for repairs before returning to England.
I’ve used it as a tribute to William Wheldale, a sailor who was press-ganged from my home town of Hull in the north of England in 1803 and died aged just twenty in the battle. The details are taken from David Wheldon and Richard Turner’s book Family Connections.
The first part of the story is set in Bath for my grandmother, who lived there for most of her life. As a teenager I stayed at her house with my sister for several weeks every summer, mainly reading Jane Austen novels. She didn’t like history, but she took me to the costume museum, which I loved, and she never made a meal with fewer than three kinds of dessert, for which I will always have the greatest affection and respect.
Finally, the Water Gardens in the second half of the story were inspired by those at Studley Royal in North Yorkshire, completed in 1767 and declared a World Heritage Site in 1986. It’s one of my favourite places to visit and the scene of many happy picnics. Obviously with biscuits.
Chapter One
Bath—March 1806
‘“Belles of Bath, purveyors of the finest quality confectionery.”’ Captain Samuel Delaney read out the words painted on a wooden sign beside a smart yellow-and-white-striped awning, then turned to confront his companion. ‘It’s a biscuit shop.’
‘Not just any biscuit shop.’ The Honourable Ralph Hoxley tapped a finger against the side of his nose. ‘The finest biscuit shop in the whole of England.’
‘The finest...?’ Samuel threw a quick look around, assuring himself that nobody else was in sight before shoving his fist none too gently into the other man’s shoulder. ‘Ralph, we may not be in the first flush of youth any more, but I draw the line at tea and biscuits in the middle of the afternoon.’
‘Ow!’ His companion rubbed his arm gingerly. ‘I say, that’s no reason to attack me. The biscuits are delicious, actually, but that’s not why we’re here.’
‘Then why are we?’
‘You’ll see in a minute. Now, stop complaining and come on.’
Samuel looked about him, inwardly debating whether or not to simply turn around and leave. Swainswick Crescent was less Palladian in style than most of the streets in the fashionable shopping district, though it was built in the same distinctive honey-coloured stone and had a somewhat charming aspect. It was also only a five-minute walk from the house his grandparents had rented on the Circus, but on the other hand he was bored and his curiosity was piqued. Heaving a sigh, he waited until a carriage had rolled past before crossing the street, amused to note that his companion kept just out of arm’s reach until they arrived at the shop windows.
‘There!’ Ralph pointed through the glass triumphantly. ‘Now look and tell me if she isn’t the most extraordinary creature you’ve ever seen.’
She? Samuel rolled his eyes. He might have guessed his wayward friend would only display this much enthusiasm over a woman, yet another unsuitable paramour most likely, but since he was already there... He threw a cursory look inside and then looked again, surprised to find that, for once, Ralph was right. Usually their tastes in relation to the opposite sex were a world apart, but this time extraordinary was exactly the right word.
The woman standing behind the shop counter was of medium stature, slender but not too slender, with a shapely figure and a mass of dark corkscrew curls barely contained in an unruly knot on the top of her head. They gave her an attractively dishevelled aspect, as if she’d just rolled out of bed, an effect exacerbated by the presence of a frilly white apron that put him in mind of a chemise. Unfortunately she was looking downwards, her features obscured by shadow as she tied a ribbon around a barrel-shaped tin, but what he could see of her face was square-shaped and extremely pretty. He couldn’t tell the colour of her eyes, but he would have hazarded a guess that they were the same coffee shade as her hair. He felt a strong urge to find out. Succeeded by an even stronger urge to shove Ralph off the pavement for seeing her first...
‘Isn’t she the most delectable morsel you’ve ever seen?’ If he wasn’t mistaken, Ralph actually licked his lips.
‘Not bad.’ Samuel stepped away from the window and folded his arms. Unlike his companion, he had absolutely no intention of drooling over a woman in public, no matter how drool-worthy she might be. ‘Although it still doesn’t explain why you’ve dragged me halfway across the city. Much as I enjoy admiring your conquests, obviously.’
‘She’s not one of my conquests, not yet, and she never will be without your help.’
‘Really?’ He quirked an eyebrow, surprised and somewhat heartened by the news. If Ralph hadn’t yet managed to seduce her, then that meant... No. He stopped the thought in its tracks. His life was complicated enough these days without any romantic entanglements, even if she was the prettiest, most intriguing looking woman he’d set eyes on since arriving back in England four months ago. Longer than that, even. He couldn’t remember ever feeling such an instant attraction to someone. ‘You don’t usually have problems talking to the opposite sex on your own.’
‘I don’t.’ Ralph sniffed with irritation. ‘Only I need you to distract the other one.’
‘What other one?’
‘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.’
‘And how do you propose that I distract her? Especially if she’s as fearsome as you say?’
‘Flirt with her! You used to be quite good at that as I recall, even if all you talk about these days is boats. You know, if I’d spent most of the past decade at sea, I’d want to do a lot more than flirt when I came back on shore. Isn’t there any woman in Bath who interests you?’
Samuel threw a quick glance back through the shop window. Yes, there was definitely one and the thought of distracting her was distinctly, apparently irresistibly, enticing.
‘Just think of it as another battle. Imagine that she’s...’ Ralph paused thoughtfully ‘...what was the name of that French Admiral you trounced again?’
‘Villeneuve.’
‘Right. Imagine that she’s Villeneuve and you need to keep her occupied while I break through her line like Nelson. It’ll be just like Trafalgar all over again.’
Samuel felt a muscle twitch in his jaw. Comparisons to his former commanding officer aside, he had the distinct suspicion that Nelson wouldn’t have approved of what they were about to do, either. On the other hand, what harm was there in enjoying the view? Just to pass the time for a few minutes?
‘All right.’ He flexed his shoulders, ignoring a prickle of conscience as he prepared for action instead. ‘For King and Country...’
Chapter Two
‘He’s here again.’ Anna Fortini waited until the shop door had closed behind the last customer before narrowing her eyes at the window and scowling.
‘I know.’ Her assistant Henrietta raised a hand to her head, patting non-existent stray hairs back into place and batting her eyelashes coquettishly. ‘This is the third time this week.’
‘Maybe we can persuade him to actually buy something this time,’ Anna muttered, pushing her own very real stray hairs out of her face and wondering if she had time to carry a bucket of cold water up to the first-floor window and deposit it over the admirers below. Alas, she suspected not. In fact, she was quite certain the front door would open again the very moment she left the room and she had absolutely no intention of leaving Henrietta on her own. Tempted as she was to believe that her shop’s recent popularity with the young male population of Bath was entirely due to her baking, she was well aware that it had far more to do with her new and attractive assistant. Barely a day went by when she didn’t have to chase some lovesick swain or other off the premises, but this particular suitor was proving more persistent than the others. He was becoming an irritation.
‘There’s another gentleman with him this time,’ Henrietta murmured, coming to stand close beside her.
‘So I noticed. Another of your admirers, no doubt.’
‘Actually, he’s looking at you. Quite intently, too.’ Henrietta giggled. ‘He’s very handsome. I wonder who he is.’
‘If he’s anything like his companion, then I don’t care. They look like gentlemen.’
‘You always say that like it’s a bad thing. What do you have against gentlemen anyway?’
‘Plenty! And no giving biscuits away this time. Those samples are for customers, not—stop it!’ Anna looked around sharply, making a grab for her assistant’s arm as she started to wave. ‘You shouldn’t encourage them.’
‘Why not? It’s just a bit of fun. There’s no harm in that, is there?’
‘It depends on what kind of fun you both have in mind. I very much doubt it’s the same thing. Honestly, didn’t you learn anything from your last employment?’
The hurt expression on the girl’s face made Anna regret the words instantly. Henrietta had lost her position in a dressmaker’s shop after her employer’s son had formed a passionate, but unrequited, attachment towards her. She hadn’t done anything to encourage him, Henrietta had assured Anna when she’d first applied for the position as her assistant, only she was afraid that she might have acted naively by not immediately rebuffing his attentions, but then she hadn’t wanted to be rude, either... The inevitable result was that she’d been dismissed without references.
‘I’m sorry.’ Anna winced. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘I know.’ One of Henrietta’s most endearing qualities was her ability to forgive and forget. ‘And I’m sorry for waving, but I was only being friendly. You don’t think I’d be silly enough to fall for a gentleman, do you?’
Anna dropped her gaze to the biscuit samples set out on a plate in front of her. Yes, she thought silently. Yes, she did think that Henrietta was capable of having her head turned by an aristocratic appearance and a few charming compliments, but she didn’t want to say the words out loud. Over the past couple of months she’d become genuinely fond of the girl. She was certainly a far livelier companion than Mrs Padgett, her dour and disapproving predecessor. No one had ever come into the shop to see her. All in all, Henrietta’s hard-working and sunny disposition would have made her the perfect employee if it hadn’t been for her propensity to be friendly with every man who as much as glanced in her direction—and men were always glancing in her direction. To be fair, it would have been hard for someone so pretty not to attract male attention—Anna only hoped it wouldn’t lead her into doing something foolish one day.
‘Just remember that no matter how honourable they might seem, gentlemen like that don’t regard women like us as ladies.’ She threw another venomous glare in the direction of the window. ‘They won’t treat us like ones, either.’
‘How can you be so cynical?’ Henrietta made a tsking sound. ‘Sometimes a gentleman really is a gentleman.’
‘But most of the time he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.’
‘Good gracious, anyone would think...’
Henrietta bit her lip, leaving whatever anyone would think unspoken as the bell above the shop door jingled again and the two men entered finally.
‘Perhaps you could finish the window display, Henrietta?’ Anna gave her assistant a none-too-subtle nudge in the ribs. ‘While I deal with these customers.’ Then she lifted her chin, bracing both of her hands on the countertop before putting on her brightest, most insincere smile. ‘How may I help you, gentlemen?’
‘Good afternoon.’ The first man, the irritant, faltered mid-step, a lock of blond hair flopping across his face as his gaze followed Henrietta. ‘My friend and I were just strolling past when we had a sudden craving for chocolate.’
‘Oh, what a shame.’ Anna heaved an exaggerated sigh. ‘Unfortunately we don’t work with chocolate, which you might have known had you asked about our merchandise on one of your previous visits. We sell biscuits, just biscuits. Perhaps you might try the shop on...’
‘But I adore biscuits even more!’ The man grinned, exposing a row of dazzlingly white teeth. Definitely a wolf. ‘Perhaps your lovely assistant here might recommend something special?’
‘I’m perfectly capable of recommending—’
‘I’d like one of the big tins,’ the other man interrupted before she could finish, addressing her in an amused-sounding baritone that none the less carried a distinct note of command. ‘If it’s not too much trouble?’
Anna turned her head to glower and then felt her stomach perform a strange kind of bouncing manoeuvre instead. She’d been so focused on the irritant that she’d barely spared a glance for his companion, though now she seemed unable to look away again. Henrietta was right, he was very handsome and yet a mass of contradictions, too, with hair the colour of mahogany and eyes so silvery pale they resembled icebergs. He might have looked austere if it hadn’t been for his athletic build and a rugged aspect that seemed at odds with his finely cut and, she couldn’t help but notice, perfectly tailored tailcoat, midnight-blue waistcoat and crisp white shirt. His face was lean and tanned, too, somewhat surprisingly for Somerset in March, yet despite his youthful appearance—surely he couldn’t be any more than thirty?—there was already a web of fine lines around his eyes that crinkled when he smiled. Just as he was doing now, she realised, making her cheeks flush and her stomach bounce all over again.
‘Trouble?’ she repeated the word, trying to focus on what he’d just said. ‘Of course not. If it were trouble, then I’d be in the wrong profession, sir. Just allow me a moment to fetch one.’
She turned to climb a set of steps set against the shelves, glad to avert her face for a few moments while she berated herself, or more precisely her body, for its own foolish reaction. He was a gentleman! Albeit a handsome one and in an attractively ungentlemanly sort of way, far less foppish than his friend and with an air of self-possession and authority that surely accounted for all the stomach bouncing, but still a gentleman, and hadn’t she just been warning Henrietta about those? Besides, he could hardly have made his purpose there any more obvious if he’d had it printed across his forehead. He was a decoy, enlisted to divert her attention while his companion tried to seduce her assistant. Well, if he thought he could outwit or charm her so easily, then he could think again!
She reached for the nearest tin and started back down the steps, throwing a surreptitious glance towards the window as she descended. As expected, Henrietta was already deep in conversation with the first man, who was standing far too close for decency. Both details meant that she had to hurry.
‘Here you are.’ She deposited the rectangular-shaped tin in front of him with a clatter. ‘It contains an assortment of biscuits, sixteen in total, each individually wrapped in tissue paper.’
‘Just sixteen?’ Her customer rested one forearm on top of the counter, regarding the tin as if it posed some kind of dilemma. ‘May I see inside?’
‘If you wish.’ Anna removed the lid, struck with the uncharacteristic impulse to neaten her hair as he leaned closer. Not that there was any point in doing so when long experience told her the curls would only tumble straight out of her bun again, and not that she cared what this gentleman thought of her hair either, even when he was standing close enough to see every wild tendril, but something about the deep timbre of his voice made her self-conscious. She found herself tucking a stray coil behind her ear before she could stop herself.
‘There you are.’ She unwrapped one of the bundles of tissue paper, unveiling a cream-coloured round biscuit for his inspection, then waited in silence for several long moments until she couldn’t wait any longer. ‘Is something the matter?’
‘Not exactly. I suppose the tin just looked bigger from a distance.’ He rubbed a hand across his chin as if he were considering the problem. There were bristles there, she noticed, another ungentlemanly contradiction, though she supposed it was nearing the end of the day. They were the same dark auburn shade as his hair and looked softer than she would have expected bristles to look, positively strokeable, in fact... She gave a startled jolt and lifted her gaze determinedly back to his eyes, irritated that any gentleman could have such a distracting effect on her.
‘I’m afraid this is the biggest tin we do.’
‘Ah. Pity.’ He laid his hand down flat on the counter beside hers, so close that their fingers were nearly, but not quite, touching. To her surprise, his skin was rough and weathered-looking as if, despite being a gentleman, he was used to manual labour. ‘They’re for a special lady, you see, and I wouldn’t want to appear churlish.’
‘Indeed?’ She tugged her own hand away, heat rising in her cheeks. ‘Then perhaps you might want to consider two tins? Or a different present altogether?’
‘But these look delicious.’ He seemed undeterred by her sarcasm. ‘And of course some would say that quality is more important than quantity, only I’m afraid that this particular lady is rather...’ he paused, lowering his voice to an intimate undertone ‘...voracious in her appetites.’
‘I’m sure she’d be delighted to hear you say so.’ Anna straightened her shoulders, feeling her temper start to escalate. How dare he talk to her about appetites, voracious or otherwise? No gentleman would ever speak to a lady in such an unguarded fashion! The words encouraged her to be indiscreet, too. ‘Well, I suppose that size matters to some people. Perhaps you’ve disappointed her with something small before?’
She put her hands on her hips with a look of defiance, expecting him to storm out of the door in an offended rage, surprised when he burst into loud laughter instead.
‘The tin it is.’ He pushed himself up off the counter, eyes glinting with humour. ‘And I’ll just have to bear whatever criticism my lady friend makes. Are the biscuits inside all the same?’
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