An Unconventional Countess. Jenni Fletcher

his forehead. ‘That’s what’s so strange about it. My father’s father and brother never wanted anything to do with me. They’ve practically disowned me since birth, yet now I’m the heir to some cousin I’ve never even met.’

      ‘Stranger things have happened.’

      ‘If they didn’t want it to happen then they should have had more sons themselves!’ There was an iron glint in his grandmother’s eye. ‘This is all their own doing.’

      ‘Perhaps they oughtn’t to have died either, my dear. That was rather weak-willed of them, too, don’t you think?’

      Samuel made a wry face as his grandfather winked at him. ‘Their lawyers must have scoured the entire family tree looking for somebody else to inherit.’

      ‘Perhaps, but the law’s the law. You’re the heir, whether people like it or not.’

      ‘If it’s a girl.’

      ‘Well, I for one hope that it is,’ his grandmother declared. ‘It’ll be a poke in the eye for anyone who ever cut you in society. I might not have approved of your father, which is a ludicrous understatement, but I always said that my daughter was free to make her own choices, however unutterably stupid.’ Her face softened. ‘But their marriage did give us you so I suppose it wasn’t all bad. Now we just need to get you established and breeding heirs of your own.’

      ‘Grandmother,’ Samuel groaned. ‘I’ll inherit the earldom if I really must, but I draw the line at starting a dynasty.’

      ‘You’ll have to someday.’

      ‘Not necessarily and definitely not straight away.’

      ‘Pshaw, now you’re being selfish. All I want is another little boy like you, even if I’ll be too old to raise him myself this time.’

      Samuel smiled affectionately. For all his grandmother’s strong opinions, he couldn’t have asked for a better surrogate mother. ‘In that case, how can I refuse to wear my uniform on Monday? Just this once.’

      ‘Excellent.’ Lady Jarrow looked satisfied. ‘And I wouldn’t be surprised if the Pump Rooms are slightly busier than usual. News of a certain eligible bachelor’s presence in Bath has already spread. I should imagine that several debutantes are on their way here as we speak.’

      ‘Good grief, aren’t there enough prospective husbands in London?’

      ‘Not enough to go around, apparently. Besides, the Season hasn’t started yet.’

      ‘Well, I’m not eligible, not yet anyway.’

      ‘True, but I imagine a few of them will want to get in the running early, just in case.’

      ‘Then that makes them gamblers and you know how I feel about those. They remind me of Father.’

      ‘You could always go to Staunton.’

      ‘Grandmother...’

      ‘Oh, all right, I’ll settle for the Pump Rooms. We’ll cut quite a dash with you in uniform.’

      ‘And forget all about me, I suppose.’ The Baron dipped his hand into the tin of biscuits. ‘I say, all three types. It’s hard to know where to begin.’

      ‘Have one of each,’ Samuel suggested.

      ‘He will not!’ His grandmother sounded outraged. ‘We’re here to make him fit and healthy again, not to fill him with treats.’

      ‘I’m not a horse, my dear, and some things are a lost cause.’ Her husband gave her an inscrutable look.

      ‘Not if I have anything to do with it. You may have one biscuit and that’s all.’ She took a bite of her own, screwing her face up as if preparing to spit it out again, before nodding approvingly. ‘Quite tasty. What did you say they were called again?’

      ‘Belles. That’s the name of the shop, too. It’s a charming little place.’

      ‘Indeed it is.’ The Baron scooped up another biscuit before his wife could stop him. ‘Have you met the eponymous Annabelle? A delightful young lady.’

      Samuel lifted an eyebrow in surprise. Was she delightful? Prickly and forthright seemed like a more apt description, except for during those last few minutes in the park when she’d appealed to him for help. Then she’d been fairly inspiring...

      On the other hand, maybe she was delightful in a way. If they’d met under different circumstances, then he might have thought so, too, from the start. She was definitely unique, or at least he didn’t think he’d ever met anyone quite like her before. She wasn’t impressed by rank, that much had been obvious by the contemptuous way she’d spoken to him and Ralph, seeming far more likely to lift her nose in the air than to bow or scrape, and she certainly knew how to stand up for herself. He liked both of those things about her, just as much as he liked her bouncy dark curls and the swirling depths of those wide coffee-brown eyes. She wasn’t as obviously beautiful as the employee she called her friend, but in his personal opinion she was a hundred times more appealing. He even liked her voice, with its hint of an accent he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t that of Bath, though it contained hints of the west country and even an occasional Italian inflection. It was...unique. He kept coming back to that word. It seemed like the perfect way to describe her. Not that he was about to tell his grandparents any of that.

      ‘I met her briefly, yes,’ he answered when he realised his silence had gone on a few moments too long. ‘She seemed pleasant enough.’

      ‘Aye, very pleasant. Do you know, we once talked about bees for half an hour?’

      ‘Bees?’

      ‘Yes, I thought that they looked like a pair of bees, her and that other girl in their yellow dresses, and that put me in mind of the hives at home. Before I knew it I was telling her all about them. I completely lost track of the time.’

      ‘Poor girl.’ The Baroness batted his hand away from the box as it drifted back again.

      ‘She seemed interested, my dear.’

      ‘She’s a saleswoman. She had to seem interested or you might not have bought anything.’

      ‘Ah...you may have a point. None the less, Miss Fortini makes excellent biscuits.’

      ‘Fortini?’ His grandmother’s voice sharpened abruptly.

      ‘Yes.’ Samuel lifted an eyebrow. ‘What’s the matter with that?’

      ‘I’m not sure. There’s just something familiar...’ She pursed her lips and then shook her head. ‘Well, never mind. I’m sure it’ll come to me eventually. When I’m out riding most likely. In any case, I approve of her biscuits. You may bring me a tin whenever you wish.’

      ‘I’ll remember that.’ Samuel popped the remainder of his own biscuit into his mouth and reached for his tea. Unfortunately, the beverage itself was disappointing. Tea was all well and good, but he still felt a powerful craving for coffee.