Unexpectedly Wed to the Officer--A Historical Romance Award Winning Author Read online

  ‘Sorry about the books, by the way.’ Nancy interrupted the rising tide of panic. ‘I shouldn’t have thrown them.’

  ‘Don’t worry.’ Henrietta was too relieved by the interruption to scold. ‘Anna took all of her favourites when she left. It’s not as if we can read them anyway.’

  ‘You can. You’re still having lessons with Miss Pybus, aren’t you?’

  ‘Not recently. I haven’t had time.’

  ‘Humph.’ Nancy’s lips set in a thin, disapproving line. ‘Your brother doesn’t deserve you.’

  ‘Yes, he does.’ Henrietta dropped her toast back on to her plate. ‘He practically raised me on his own and you know he’s been in a terrible state since Alice died. It’s as though he’s broken inside.’

  ‘I know he’s not helping to mend himself either.’ Nancy’s expression was part-sharp, part-sympathetic. ‘My stepfather’s a drunk. I recognise the signs.’

  ‘David’s not a drunk. He’s just having a hard time taking care of himself and the boys at the moment.’

  ‘Well, I don’t think it’s fair the way he expects you to go every day and take care of them. My mother works herself to the bone for her worthless husband, too, and all she ever gets in return is misery. You’ll never catch me throwing my life away on a man, father, brother, husband or whatever you want to call them. If you ask me, the whole lot are a thousand times more trouble than they’re worth...’ Nancy speared a hard-boiled egg violently on the end of her fork. ‘Speaking of which, our guest needs to be on his way. It’ll be bad for business if people think we entertain sailors at night.’

  ‘Anyone who thinks us capable of that obviously has no idea what time bakers get up in the morning.’ Henrietta sighed. ‘But he said he’ll be leaving after breakfast anyway, travelling north to see Anna and his mother, I expect.’

  ‘My mother first.’ The man in question appeared in the kitchen doorway suddenly, smartly dressed and with his curly hair swept back into a low, slightly dishevelled queue. His square jaw, on which there had been a veritable swathe of black stubble that morning, appeared to have been quite ruthlessly shaved, making the now infamous shape of his lips even more noticeable.

  Henrietta turned her attention back to her plate before she could notice anything else. Even with a bruised and off-centre nose, he looked quite disconcertingly handsome. Words like strapping and virile sprang to mind.

  ‘There’s no rush, however,’ Mr Fortini continued. ‘I came straight here from Plymouth and I’ve no desire to be shut up in a stagecoach again too soon. I thought I might actually stay in Bath for a few days, although somewhere else, naturally. Is the Wig and Mitre still open?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s not very fancy.’ Nancy lifted her eyebrows. ‘Wouldn’t a hotel suit you better?’

  ‘Not really. I may be an officer, but I’m not exactly what you’d call a gentleman.’ He winked. ‘Now, if that coffee’s sufficiently brewed, allow me to pour, ladies.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Henrietta took a deep breath as he placed a cup in front of her, trying to quell a fresh burst of fluttering in her chest now as well as her stomach. She’d felt quite comfortable with him during the night, except for one oddly intense moment when their gazes had locked over the teapot, but now it was downright unnerving, not to mention irritating, the way her body seemed to react whenever he winked or smiled or even so much as looked in her direction for that matter. She hadn’t felt so unnerved since...well, since Mr Hoxley, and look how that had turned out! She’d learned her lesson about men eight months ago and learned it thoroughly, too, or so she’d thought. Only something about Mr Sebastian Fortini seemed to place her in danger of forgetting it.

  She picked up her coffee cup and blew steam across the surface. Frankly, the sooner he left for Yorkshire the better for her peace of mind—and body—it would be.

  ‘Well, this is pleasant.’ He sat down in the chair next to hers, a discreet distance away, yet close enough to make the whole right side of her body tingle with awareness. ‘You know, Anna told me about you, Miss Gardiner.’

  ‘She did?’ She looked around at the words. ‘But I thought you said you hadn’t heard from her for a year?’

  ‘I haven’t. It was before that, in the last letter I received. She’d said that she’d taken on a new assistant to replace the formidable Mrs Padgett and that you were a breath of fresh air. Now I can see why.’ He tipped his head closer. ‘I only hope she wasn’t too much of a tyrant to work for.’

  ‘Not at all.’ She stiffened despite his teasing tone. ‘I always loved working with Anna.’

  ‘I’m delighted to hear it. What about you, Miss MacQueen? Do you know my sister?’

  ‘A little.’ Nancy gave him an appraising look before continuing. ‘I got to know your mother quite well, too, when I first came to work here. She used to tell stories about you, like the time you and a friend climbed on to the roof and threw Belles at the houses opposite. She said that you were aiming for the chimneys, but the people in the street below thought it was raining biscuits.’

  ‘Ah...yes.’ Mr Fortini rubbed a hand around the back of his neck. ‘I suppose I wasn’t always the most responsible youth, but I promise to be perfectly well behaved today. In fact, I thought I might go and visit a few of my old haunts if the two of you would care to join me?’

  ‘Us?’ Henrietta almost poured coffee into her lap.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘The shop...’

  ‘Can be closed for one day. Anna and my mother might not be here, but I must have some kind of authority. I’ll take the blame anyway.’

  ‘I still don’t think...’

  ‘Why don’t just the two of you go?’ Nancy chimed in unexpectedly.

  She felt her jaw drop in surprise. Considering her assistant’s earlier comments, Henrietta thought it was the very last thing she would have expected her to say. ‘But I couldn’t possibly leave you to do everything. It wouldn’t be fair.’

  ‘It is when I’m offering and it would be silly for us both to miss a trip out. I can manage on my own as long as we get the baking done first.’

  ‘And I can help with that,’ Mr Fortini offered.

  ‘You can bake?’ Henrietta looked from him to Nancy and then back again. If she hadn’t known better, she might have suspected them of conspiring together.

  ‘I grew up here, didn’t I?’ He was already rolling his sleeves up. ‘Admittedly, it’s been a few years since I last wielded a rolling pin, but I haven’t forgotten how. Between the three of us, we’ll get it all done in no time.’

  Chapter Three

  Henrietta stared unhappily into her bedroom mirror. She’d changed out of the plain brown muslin she used for baking and into her best cotton day dress, but her reflection looked all wrong. The turquoise-blue shade of the fabric matched her eyes perfectly, complementing her skin tone and even somehow accentuating the strawberry threads in her hair, but those very things in themselves made her uneasy. She didn’t want to match or complement or accentuate anything. And she didn’t want to go for a walk either!

  She stuck her tongue out at her reflection. It wasn’t that Mr Fortini wasn’t good company. On the contrary, he’d proven himself extremely good company that morning, chatting, joking and even singing a few verses of opera while he’d demonstrated his formidable skill in the kitchen. It wasn’t that the weather was poor either. The world outside her window looked cold but sunny, surprisingly so for November. Annoyingly perfect for a promenade. It was just...why had he asked her to accompany him? Why did he want to go for a walk with her? What if she really had given him the wrong impression during the night and he thought she was the kind of woman who might welcome male attention? What if he wanted to flirt with her, or worse?

  On the other hand, she reassured herself, he’d included Nancy in the invitation, too. That would have been acceptable, enjoyable even, if it hadn’t been for her assista
nt’s out-of-character suggestion that just the two of them should go. They’d have to discuss that later, Henrietta thought darkly, but right now she had more immediate problems. Such as the fact that she was going for a walk with a man, a gentleman even, which he was no matter how he described himself.

  Anna had told her the story a few months before, about how their mother, Lady Elizabeth Holden, the only daughter of a duke, had run away with an Italian footman twenty-five years before and been disowned by her family right up until that past summer. That made Mr Fortini a gentleman, of sorts anyway, although whether he was or wasn’t was beside the point since she no longer went for walks with any kind of man, no matter how ruggedly handsome she might find them.

  No, she decided, unbuttoning her dress despite the fact that she’d already wasted five minutes simply staring and worrying, she couldn’t wear anything so flattering. Or anything that might enhance her appearance at all! As much as she wanted and strove to be modest, it was impossible to deny the effect her looks seemed to have upon men. If she could have given some of her beauty away, she would have done so—and gladly. Maybe then she would have stood a chance of knowing who was interested in her real self and not just her appearance. Up until a few months ago, she hadn’t understood the difference, but now she knew that all most men saw or cared about was her face and figure. They all wanted the same thing, too, something she wasn’t prepared to give, and it didn’t take much for them to confuse friendliness for encouragement. She’d learned that from experience, too, and had no intention of making the same mistake again.

  Quickly, she slid the blue dress over her hips and replaced it with the most shapeless item she owned, a scratchy grey woollen gown that irritated her skin, but was eminently sensible for a winter’s excursion, then wrapped a dowdy old shawl around her shoulders and topped the effect with an even dowdier jockey cap bonnet. There, she thought with satisfaction, taking a second look in the mirror before starting down the staircase, that was much better. Or, if not better, then at least nothing that could be misinterpreted. If Mr Fortini was like most other men and judged by appearances, her outfit would tell him everything he needed to know about her. She looked like what she was determined to be: a serious and respectable shopkeeper, not someone to be flirted with and absolutely not the kind of woman who flashed her ankles while accosting men in her nightgown.

  Of course, it was possible, she realised upon entering the shop, that she was somewhat overdoing the statement. Or definitely overdoing it if the roll of Nancy’s eyes was anything to go by. If Mr Fortini hadn’t already been leaning against the shop counter, waiting for her in a surprisingly thin-looking jacket and black top hat, she had a feeling she might have been marched back up the stairs and made to change. Again.

  ‘Ready, Miss Gardiner?’ Mr Fortini’s own expression didn’t waver as he opened the shop door.

  ‘Quite ready, thank you.’ She threw Nancy a pointed look and stepped outside, albeit wondering whether the eye roll was appropriate and she was overreacting a little. After all, Mr Fortini was Anna’s brother and it wasn’t as if he’d suggested anything scandalous. They were simply going for a walk around the city in broad daylight, a stroll down memory lane for him and a pleasant change to the daily routine for her. And Bath in the winter was more spectacularly beautiful than ever, the long rows of limestone buildings glowing a pale honey-gold shade wherever the sun kissed them. It would really be a shame not to enjoy such a gorgeous day while it lasted. There was nothing for her to be worried about and she really shouldn’t—

  ‘Shall we?’

  The appearance of an outstretched arm made her shriek as if a wild animal with razor-sharp teeth and blood-stained claws had just hurled itself across her path.

  ‘Miss Gardiner?’ Mr Fortini looked justifiably confused.

  ‘Oh, excuse me. I thought I saw a...snake.’

  ‘A snake?’ A pair of black eyebrows disappeared beneath his top hat.

  ‘Yes.’ She came down off her tiptoes and cleared her throat awkwardly. It was the first wild animal that had come to mind, but still, a snake in Bath? Even a slow-worm was somewhat far-fetched.

  ‘I see...’ The eyebrows showed no sign of coming down again. ‘Well, stranger things have happened, I suppose. Fortunately it appears to have slithered away.’

  ‘Perhaps I imagined it.’

  ‘Or a trick of the light, maybe?’ He extended his arm a second time, bending his elbow with what appeared to be deliberate slowness.

  ‘Ye-es.’ She lifted her chin and curled her hand cautiously around his bicep, trying to ignore the flicker of heat that immediately sparked in her abdomen and darted outwards, along her arms to her fingers and down her legs all the way to her toes. If she wasn’t mistaken, even the top of her head was in danger of overheating. Her whole body felt strange, the way it had that morning when she’d caught a glimpse of his bare chest, a memory she’d intended to repress as quickly as possible, but which seemed determined to keep intruding upon her consciousness like one of those tunes that got stuck in your head. Or like a particularly quote-worthy line from a poem, not that his chest was inherently poetic, just unfortunately unforgettable... Oh, dear. Her thick woollen shawl was starting to feel somewhat redundant.

  ‘Shall we head towards Pulteney Bridge?’ He strode onwards, appearing not to notice any change in temperature, possibly because he hadn’t even bothered to fasten his jacket. ‘I want to see what’s changed over the past few years.’

  ‘Not too much, I think.’ She hurried to keep up, relieved to put the subject of snakes behind them. ‘But then I suppose you don’t always notice changes when you live in a place from day to day. I suppose even Belles must seem very different to you.’

  ‘Yes, although that doesn’t necessarily mean the changes are bad ones.’ He gave her a sideways smile. ‘Some of them are actually quite pleasant. Once the initial pain has worn off, obviously.’

  ‘Oh...yes. How is your nose?’

  ‘Not broken.’ His expression was faintly triumphant. ‘You’ll have to try harder next time.’

  She blinked, uncertain about how to respond to the joke, especially when she was still trying to regain her equilibrium and accept his arm for what it was, just an arm, no matter how sturdy or sinewy or astonishingly muscular it felt beneath her fingertips. None the less, she had the alarming impression that he was trying to compliment her, which meant that she needed to change the subject and quickly.

  ‘Oh, look!’ She was seized with a sudden burst of inspiration, pointing across Great Pulteney Street to the shopfront opposite. ‘That’s Redbourne’s new general store. They moved premises last year. Now it’s one of the largest shops in the city.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Mr Fortini sounded interested. ‘Tell me, does old Mr Redbourne still manage the place?’

  ‘No, his son took over a while ago.’

  ‘Even better...’ He acknowledged the words with a wicked-looking grin. ‘Remember that story about me and a friend throwing biscuits across the street? Jem was my partner in crime.’

  ‘Mr James Redbourne? But he always seems so...’

  ‘Good and responsible? I know. His father always thought I was the bad influence, if you can believe that, but Jem was more than capable of getting into trouble on his own. He was just better at hiding it.’ His grin widened. ‘I’ll have to pay him a visit and see if I can lure him back into old ways.’

  ‘Maybe I ought to warn him.’ She couldn’t help but smile, unable to resist his good humour. ‘I could send a message, only not with Nancy. They don’t get along.’

  ‘Really? Has she been throwing books at his head, too?’

  ‘She probably would if she could, but I don’t know what she has against him. It’s a mystery.’

  ‘Now that sounds like a challenge...but enough about them. Tell me more about yourself, Miss Gardiner. I’m curious. Have you always lived in Bath?’
>
  ‘No-o.’ She stopped smiling and drew her brows together, wondering what to make of the question. She’d had similar enquiries from men before—not so much out of interest, she’d realised eventually, more to work out if she had some kind of protector—but Mr Fortini looked as if he were simply making conversation. And there was no harm in telling him a few details, surely? ‘I grew up six miles away in Ashley.’

  ‘I know the village. In fact, I believe I travelled through it yesterday, although it was hard to tell in the dark.’

  ‘It’s a pleasant place, but Bath is my home now.’

  ‘Mine, too.’ He looked around as if he were trying to take in every detail of the street. ‘You know, it’s funny. I spent most of my youth longing to escape and see the world, but I missed this place the moment I left. As much as I wanted to go, part of me has been homesick ever since.’

  ‘That must have been hard.’

  ‘Fortunately, I had plenty of distractions. The navy doesn’t like to let grass grow under your feet. Or lichen anyway. So what made you leave Ashley and move to the city?’

  ‘I had to. After our parents died, my brother and I needed to find work. That was ten years ago.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ His voice softened. ‘It’s always hard to lose a parent, but you must have been very young, too. Eight? Nine?’

  ‘Nine, but it was worse for David, my brother. He’s eleven years older than me and had to take care of both of us. Fortunately, I found a job on a market stall, selling cloth. Then when I was seventeen I got a position in a dressmaker’s...’ She frowned at the pavement, wondering why she’d just told him that when she usually avoiding thinking about it herself. It wasn’t a pleasant memory, one she had to shake her head to get rid of. ‘Then I came to Belles.’

  ‘I see. Why di—?’

  ‘What made you join the navy?’ She spoke before he could finish the question.