That statement left him feeling a little foolish. Inwardly, he sighed. Again, she had told him more about her dislikes than her likes, and he’d been reduced to insignificant babble. He must try harder.
“What are your feelings on children?”
Lady Madeleine gasped and put her hand to her chest. “That question might be considered brazen,” she protested.
Might it?Henry couldn’t see how. Unless her mind had flown directly from the existence of children to the creating of them.Interesting!Perhaps a passionate nature lay buried —deeply buried— beneath the surface of her genteel and cool exterior.
“However,” she continued, “since I believe we are heading toward an understanding, I shall answer.” Madeleine stared straight ahead instead of looking at him. “I am prepared to provide an heir and two extras, just in case of tragedy. And I shall require a wet-nurse as well as a nanny.”
That seemed reasonable, if rather businesslike, for a woman talking about her own offspring, ones he hoped she would love with all the warmth she could muster.
For his part, he would take his children to Rare Confectionery where he would let them purchase whatever they liked. He might even ask the more endowed Rare-Foure sister how she made that piercing whistle. He imagined it would come in handy for calling his children if they were in another part of the house or summoning a dog, for that matter.
“And your feeling on dogs?” He might as well ask.
Her head whipped around, and her eyes finally blazed with passion.
“I cannot abide them. Smelly, yappy things, always scratching or yawning or relieving themselves. My father had one for a short while, and after two weeks I made him get rid of it.”
“Ah, well then. Perhaps a cat?”
She shook her head and launched into further vitriol about shedding and clawing and vomiting. She’dallowedher mother to keep a cat for three whole weeks once!
He decided not to ask about the more unusual pets he’d encountered in some of England’s finest houses, such as squirrels, owls, or monkeys. His children would have to grow up without the fun of a four-legged friend, except for their horses.
Suddenly, he had a terrible thought. “Lady Madeleine, do you like the taste of chocolate?”
She gave him her perfect smile again. “Of course, Your Grace. One would have to be uncivilized not to.”
“I refer not to the regular drinking kind,” he clarified. “I am speaking of the solid type of chocolate, such as a Cadbury Fancy Box or even a Fry’s Cream Stick. Have you had one?”
“I have. They are most delicious. The sweetness of the cream stick is a treat.”
Internally, he heaved a sigh of relief. His plan remained a good one. And he would tell Miss Rare-Foure, the sweeter the better.
“Chocolate is the very opposite of an orange, don’t you think?” she added.
He frowned. “I’m not sure I take your meaning.”
She lifted a delicate shoulder. “I mean that I like sweet chocolate almost as much as I dislike a bitter orange.”
He nodded even though he recalled the third, orange-infused creamy chocolate with great fondness. What’s more, never in his life had he considered the sweet fruit to be bitter, but apparently, Lady Madeleine did.
***
AMITY HAD JUST FINISHEDpouring boiled, nutmeg-infused cream into a bowl of chocolate pieces when her mother called to her through the curtain.
“I can see the Duke of Pelham’s carriage has pulled up. And there he is. He’s coming in. Again.” Mrs. Felicity Rare-Foure had a sing-song tone of approval. She liked her store being patronized by the finest ranks.
Amity heard the tinkling of the shop’s bell and pulled off her apron to look more presentable while immediately wishing she didn’t care a fig if he thought her so or not.
By the time she stepped through the curtain, her mother was already speaking with the duke. The sight of him gave her the same thrill as a new shipment of Chocolats au Lait Gala Peter, a ready-made milk chocolate drink from Monsieur Peter’s factory in Switzerland. Anticipation tingled through her.
“Here she is, my lord,” her mother said.
Amity stepped forward and curtsied. “I did not expect to see you again so soon.”
“I said I would return,” he reminded her, looking like the perfect gentleman in a charcoal gray morning suit. His ascot was meticulously tied.
