Jenni Fletcher - An Unconventional Countess

‘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.

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