Unexpectedly Wed to the Officer--A Historical Romance Award Winning Author Page 5

‘Not directly. She used a door. Then she threatened to castrate me with a pair of fire tongs.’

  ‘You must have made quite an impression.’

  ‘She thought I was a burglar, though in all fairness, she saved me from having a vase smashed over my head this morning. That was Miss MacQueen.’ He put his glass down on the table for a refill. ‘It was an eventful night.’

  ‘It sounds like it.’

  ‘Do you know her at all?’

  ‘Miss MacQueen?’

  ‘Miss Gardiner.’

  ‘Oh.’ If he wasn’t mistaken, his old friend’s cheeks flushed slightly. ‘No, not very well. She was quite friendly when we first moved in, but she’s been a lot more reserved since she took over Belles. One of my men tried flirting with her once and she almost bit his head off. Now they call her the ice queen, but no one really knows what to make of her any more.’

  ‘I’m glad I’m not the only one.’

  ‘Anna trusts her anyway.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’ Sebastian paused with his glass halfway to his lips.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Nothing means something. I know you, James. What is it?’

  His friend swallowed another mouthful of whisky and sighed. ‘There were some rumours a while ago. Something to do with her previous place of employment. A milliner, I think.’

  ‘A dressmaker. What kind of rumours?’

  ‘I don’t like gossip, Seb.’

  ‘Neither do I, but if she’s running my family business then I have a right to know.’

  He winced inwardly, feeling a twinge of guilt at the words. They sounded pompous, not to mention faintly hypocritical given that he hadn’t been involved in the business for so many years. In retrospect, Miss Gardiner had seemed somewhat defensive when he’d asked about her previous employment earlier, although she’d also told him that Anna knew her reasons for leaving. All of which meant that it was none of his business. In this case, however, curiosity appeared to outweigh conscience.

  ‘All right, but it doesn’t go outside this room.’ James stood up and closed the door. ‘They say there was some kind of scandal involving her and the owner’s son.’

  ‘They say?’

  ‘One of my staff heard a story. Something about the mother accusing her of being a fortune hunter, of trying to seduce and trap him into marriage, but as to whether it’s true...’ He lifted his shoulders. ‘In any case, she was sacked without references. That part’s definitely true because I remember she came to the old shop looking for work. Unfortunately, my father wasn’t sympathetic.’

  Sebastian frowned into his glass, swirling the liquid around as he mentally negotiated his way through a confusing blend of emotions—indignation, surprise and something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on... He didn’t want to pay any heed to gossip and it was frankly hard to believe that the guarded and prickly woman he’d spent the morning with could ever have done something so scandalous, but it put her words about loose morals into some kind of perspective, especially if she’d been accused of them before...

  If that were the case, however, then she’d either been unjustly accused or she was a reformed character, but surely something must have happened for her to be sacked without references...and damn it if the other emotion wasn’t jealousy!

  Jealousy? How could he be jealous over a woman he hadn’t even met this time yesterday? The very idea was outlandish. Laughable, really. And yet something about it rang true.

  ‘So, are you back on dry land for good?’ James seemed eager to steer the conversation into a different channel. ‘Or are you still restless?’

  ‘Not as much as I used to be. To be honest, I’d reconciled myself to the idea of coming back to help Anna with Belles, but it appears I’m surplus to requirements. It’s been taken over by two attractive, but extremely violent females.’ He made a wry face. ‘It could have been worse, I suppose. As for the navy, I’m pretty sure my chances of finding another post were scuppered alongside Napoleon’s fleet.’ He frowned. ‘Although I’m not entirely sure I’d want to go back anyway.’

  ‘So, what next?’

  ‘Next I’ll go north to visit Anna and my mother. After that...who knows? The world’s my oyster apparently, although I thought I might loiter in Bath for today.’

  ‘I was hoping you’d say that.’ James grinned. ‘In that case, you should stay with me tonight. I have rooms upstairs.’

  ‘You’re inviting me to stay in a building that’s just received a fresh delivery of brandy?’

  ‘Actually, when you put it like that...’

  ‘Too late. I accept.’ Sebastian laughed, resolving to put all thoughts of Miss Gardiner, fortune-hunting seductress or not, out of his mind. Aside from her obvious lack of interest in him, her past was none of his business and he had other things to think about. What to do with his future for a start. His sister was happily married, his mother ensconced with her family in the north and Belles appeared to be running smoothly. The world really was his oyster...and the last thing he needed was to be distracted by a woman, especially an ice queen.

  He lifted his glass and tossed back the last of his whisky. He’d go and pick up his bag from Belles later, but after that...well, he doubted he’d be sharing anything more than pleasantries with Miss Gardiner again.

  Chapter Five

  ‘What went wrong?’

  Henrietta’s heart sank as Nancy confronted her, hands planted firmly on hips, at the bottom of the stairs. She’d been relieved to spy several customers in the shop when she’d come back in through the kitchen earlier, allowing her to sneak up to her bedroom and change into her yellow shop dress unnoticed, but now it seemed she wasn’t going to escape an interrogation so lightly. Which was the very last thing she wanted, especially after she’d just made such a fool of herself in front of Mr Fortini.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ She smoothed her hair, making sure it was tucked neatly behind her ears while she maintained a calm and collected expression. ‘Nothing went wrong.’

  ‘Something must have happened for you to be back here so soon.’ Nancy looked unconvinced. ‘I said that you should take your time and enjoy yourself. Where is Mr Fortini anyway? Why didn’t he escort you back?’

  ‘He escorted me to the end of the crescent, if you must know, but I insisted on walking the rest of the way by myself. I’m sure he has better things to do than spend his time with me.’

  ‘He seemed pretty keen on your company this morning.’

  ‘I’m sure he was just being polite.’

  ‘I doubt it.’ Nancy gave a sceptical snort as they made their way through to the shop. ‘Men are never that polite to me.’

  ‘He invited both of us.’

  ‘He was looking at you while he said it. I’m not blind. It was perfectly obvious it was you he wanted to walk with, just like every other man who comes in here, I might add. It’s a good thing I don’t want a husband or working with you could prove extremely frustrating.’

  ‘You shouldn’t put yourself down. You’re very pretty.’

  ‘No, I’m not, but you’re a good friend to say so.’ Nancy removed her hands from her hips finally. ‘My hair is too red, my face is covered with freckles and I have an awful temper. Men don’t like any of those things, or so my mother tells me.’ She grimaced. ‘Not that she’s an authority on men, but my aunt said it, too. And my grandmother.’

  ‘I’d rather that men didn’t look at me.’ Henrietta sighed. ‘Or at least it would be nice if one of them could actually see me, the real me, I mean.’

  ‘Is that what that awful outfit was about? You know you can be the real you without dressing like a scarecrow.’

  ‘I dressed for the cold.’

  ‘It’s not that cold. I’m surprised birds didn’t peck at you.’

  ‘Well, they didn’t.’ Henrietta braced her hands
firmly on the counter. ‘I might have looked a bit severe, but I didn’t want any misunderstandings, that’s all.’

  ‘And why do you always assume misunderstandings are your fault? You’re not responsible for what other people think. If men get the wrong impression, then that’s their problem, not yours.’

  ‘I know. Or I sort of know. I just don’t want to make any more mistakes or feel stupid again.’

  ‘I understand.’ Nancy placed a supportive hand on her arm. ‘But you’re not stupid, you never have been and you don’t need to hide away or pretend to be anyone other than who you are. You don’t see me pretending to be calm and patient, do you?’

  ‘Not often, no.’ Henrietta found her lips twitching. ‘Only you’re not getting out of this argument so easily. I didn’t want to go for a walk with Mr Fortini and you shouldn’t have suggested it. You were the one who said that men were more trouble than they’re worth!’

  ‘Most of them are.’

  ‘Exactly! You weren’t even convinced that he was Anna’s brother this morning.’

  ‘Yes, but once I looked closer, I could see that you were right about the resemblance. And if he’s her brother, then that means he won’t be anything like...’ Nancy paused and clucked her tongue ‘...like some men whose ears I’d like to box and will if I ever see them. Even I can accept there are a few exceptions to the rule. Besides, I thought you liked him.’

  Henrietta gawked in surprise. ‘What on earth made you think that?’

  ‘Like I said, I’m not blind. You kept sneaking glances at him over breakfast.’

  ‘I did not!’

  ‘Yes, you did and you were fidgeting, but if it makes you feel any better, he was doing the same thing. It was putting me off my breakfast watching the pair of you.’

  ‘You were imagining things.’

  ‘I never imagine things. I’m not an imaginative person.’ Nancy looked infuriatingly smug. ‘And I’ll admit that he’s handsome in a rough kind of way. Is he coming to say goodbye?’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’ Henrietta started to tidy an already neat pile of boxes on the counter, chiding herself for the way her stomach clenched and then seemed to perform a jig at the thought. ‘Although he left his belongings upstairs so I suppose he’ll be back to—’

  ‘What?’ Nancy clamped her eyebrows together as she stopped mid-sentence.

  ‘There she is again.’ Henrietta pointed towards the window.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The woman I told you about yesterday. She’s been out on the pavement every day this week, just standing there or walking up and down. She’s peered in at our window a few times, but she never comes in. I think she might be hungry.’

  ‘She’s dressed like a lady.’ Nancy moved to one side of the window, peering out surreptitiously. ‘Odd that she’s wandering about without a maid, though. Maybe she’s in some kind of trouble.’

  ‘She keeps looking up at the boarding house as if she’s waiting for someone to come out.’

  ‘Definitely in trouble, then.’

  ‘In that case, we should help her.’ Henrietta nodded decisively, wrapping half a dozen Belles in a muslin cloth before heading for the door.

  ‘Wait a minute.’ Nancy put a restraining hand on her arm. ‘For all we know, she might be a dangerous criminal.’

  ‘I don’t think so. She only looks about the same age as us.’

  ‘We could be dangerous criminals if we wanted.’

  ‘I’m still going to talk to her.’ Henrietta lifted her chin, holding the door open for a group of septuagenarian ladies, then waited on the edge of the pavement for a few moments while a cart rolled past before crossing the road. The woman was facing in the other direction, a large, heavy-brimmed bonnet obscuring her face so effectively that Henrietta had to go and stand directly in front of her just to make eye contact.

  ‘Excuse me.’ She smiled, trying to look friendly as the woman let out a startled gasp. ‘I don’t mean to bother you, but I wondered if you’d like a biscuit?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ The woman’s face, which looked altogether too gaunt and pale against her sombre outfit, appeared panic-stricken.

  ‘They’re a new variety,’ Henrietta lied, opening up the muslin. ‘We’re asking people what they think. Please...take them all.’

  ‘I really shouldn’t.’ The woman lifted a hand hesitantly, as if she suspected some kind of trap.

  ‘You can come into the shop, too, if you like?’ Henrietta offered as the hand wavered in mid-air. ‘It’s cold out here.’

  ‘No.’ Her voice was the barest of whispers. ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘We might be able to help. Perhaps if there was someone in particular you were looking for?’

  ‘How do you know—?’ The woman’s large, hazel-hued eyes widened like saucers before she grabbed two of the biscuits, spun on her heel and ran.

  * * *

  ‘Maybe he’s forgotten about his bag.’ Nancy sank down on a stool behind the counter and sighed wearily. It was the end of the day and there was still no sign of Mr Fortini. ‘It seems an odd thing to forget about, though.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Henrietta turned the sign on the door over to Closed, wondering if perhaps she’d been too severe with him earlier and he didn’t want to come back. Apparently she was scaring everyone off today.

  ‘But I’m sure he’ll remember it eventually,’ Nancy continued. ‘Then you can fix whatever happened between you.’

  ‘I told you, nothing happened.’

  ‘I know what you told me, but admit it, you want to see him again.’

  ‘I admit nothing of the kind.’ Henrietta straightened her shoulders. ‘Anyway, I ought to visit David this evening.’

  ‘Again?’ Nancy scowled. ‘You shouldn’t be wandering about the city on your own. It’s dark already.’

  ‘I’ve done it plenty of times and...’ she paused awkwardly ‘...well, I’ve been thinking that perhaps I ought to move back in with him.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I know it’s not ideal, but he’s struggling and he needs me. His neighbour, Mrs Roper, has been helping to look after the boys in the afternoons, but I can’t expect her to do it for ever.’

  ‘And you’ve been paying her too, I expect?’

  ‘Just a little.’

  ‘Oh, Hen, I don’t want to sound harsh, but he’s their father and you already spend most of your free time there. Not to mention your money—and don’t tell me it’s just a little.’ She threw her hands up in the air with a look of exasperation. ‘Why is it always women who are supposed to drop everything whenever a man needs them? As if they think we don’t have lives and ambitions of our own!’

  ‘Because most of them do think that.’ Henrietta sighed. ‘But David’s different. He needs me.’

  ‘What about Belles?’

  ‘I could still work here. I’ll just have to be a bit more organised.’

  ‘You couldn’t be any more organised. You’ll work yourself into the ground just like my mother. Besides, you can’t be traipsing across the city before dawn to do the baking every morning. I won’t allow it. No, we’ll have to think of something else.’

  ‘I’ve tried, believe me, but I do need to go now. I want to be sure the boys have a proper meal before bed.’

  ‘All right, but don’t be too long or I’ll worry.’

  ‘I promise.’ Henrietta planted a kiss on the top of her head. ‘What would I do without you?’

  ‘Break men’s noses with doors? You’ll have to teach me that trick.’

  Henrietta laughed, scooping up a bonnet and shawl before heading out of the back door and retracing the steps she’d walked earlier that day with Mr Fortini. Her brother had a small house in the Avon Street district, only a quarter of an hour away, less if she walked quickly, which she did, weaving her way through the other pedestrians so that she w
as tapping on the front door in less than ten minutes. To her dismay, however, there was no answer.

  ‘David?’ She lifted the latch and pushed the door open cautiously, but there was no sign of anyone inside, only a solitary rushlight flickering on a scratched and severely battered old table.

  ‘He’s asleep,’ a small voice piped up through the gloom, though it was impossible to tell where it was coming from.

  ‘Peter?’ Henrietta looked around in consternation. ‘Is that you?’

  ‘It’s Michael.’ A head poked out from beneath the table. ‘Peter’s watching Papa. He said he ought to do it because he’s two years older than me.’

  ‘Why is he watching your father?’ She crouched down, holding her arms out for a hug.

  ‘He’s been drinking again.’ Michael’s eight-year-old voice was matter of fact. ‘All day, Mr Roper said. He brought him home and said that we should watch and be sure to roll him over if he’s sick.’

  ‘Oh, Michael.’ She tightened her arms around her nephew, feeling nauseated herself at the words. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s all right. Mr Roper said he’ll be right as rain in the morning, but we should talk quietly.’

  ‘Ye-es.’ Henrietta frowned as a new thought occurred to her. ‘But how can your father have been drinking all day? Wasn’t he at work in the mews?’

  ‘Um...’ A guilty expression crossed the little boy’s face. ‘I’m not s’posed to tell you.’

  ‘Tell me what?’

  ‘He lost his job.’ Another voice emerged through a hole in the ceiling, closely followed by a pair of legs descending the ladder. ‘Two days ago. They said he was a disgrace.’

  ‘What?’ Henrietta looked between the two boys in dismay. ‘But I was here that evening. Peter, why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Papa said not to.’

  ‘Oh.’ She frowned. ‘Well, that’s not your fault. Where’s Oliver?’

  ‘Asleep in his cot.’ Peter looked as if he were struggling to maintain a stoical expression.

  ‘Aunt Henrietta?’ Michael’s tone turned wheedling. ‘Did you bring any biscuits?’