That gave her time to regain her balance and her senses. The Duke of Pelham wanted to offer his hand to the most beautiful woman in London. He was hardly going to swoon at the feet of a shopkeeper’s daughter. Or sneak a kiss, for that matter.
“That was delicious,” he said when he looked at her again.
“That was what went to the Palace,” she told him. “When Her Highness isn’t eating parboiled bone marrow on toast, she enjoys chocolate-smothered treacle squares.”
“I bet you learn quite a bit about your customers.”
“Those of us with an interest in serving the queen, and especially in getting the royal stamp of approval, tend to make it our business to find out her likes and dislikes.”
“The queen’s cooks pour a good cup of gossip-water, do they?” the duke asked.
“For the right amount of chocolate, yes, they do.”
“I hope, Miss Rare-Foure, you are not going to gossip about my likes and dislikes.”
She blinked. “Absolutely not, my lord. In plain truth, I know very little about them.”
He raised a perfect eyebrow.
“And even if I did,” she added, “I would not babble about you. You are a customer. I will not disclose anything about Lady Madeleine, either.”
“Isn’t the queen a customer?” he asked. Amity could see by the smile playing about his lips he was teasing her.
“The queen is a different kettle of fish entirely.”
“I suppose she is. She also might not like to know she had ever been described as a ‘kettle of fish.’”
“I suppose not. If you keep my counsel when next you see the queen, then I shall keep yours.”
“We work very well together,” he said, glancing over to the marble top again to see what else he could taste.
Amity couldn’t help but laugh. “We haven’t done much work thus far, my lord. You’ve simply started eating my chocolates.” She followed his glance, saw her heated cream melting the chocolate, and grabbed for her whisk.
“I must finish this, my lord. That is, if you can wait.”
“Yes, of course. If you don’t mind, I’ll watch.”
Trying to pretend he wasn’t there, she beat the concoction over and over until it was shiny, smooth, and completely blended.
“You have a strong arm,” he commented into the silence.
“Not as strong as a baker,” she remarked, thinking of stories her mother told of Grandfather Rare with biceps like tree limbs from kneading dough.
He laughed. “I suppose not. What is it you’re beating so mercilessly?”
“Two parts chocolate to one part heated cream,” Amity explained.
He fell silent again while she gave the chocolate a few more stirs before putting the bowl into the cold box, a wooden structure with ice in hidden trays above and below. Sandwiched in the large space between the ice trays were metal shelves where she kept butter, cream, milk and now the bowl of chocolate. Another bowl was already in there cooling quickly.
“It needs to set for at least an hour while it becomes like paste or a very thick custard. I use it to make the squishy center for the orange-flavored chocolate you liked. Some chocolate-makers abroad are calling itfondant, and thus, so am I. Regardless, it gives us plenty of time to talk about the confection for Lady Madeleine.”
“I know you said you hadn’t a chance to create anything, but that’s good because I have new information.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I visited with Lady Madeleine yesterday.”
How superb!He had gone from seeing her with cocoa on her hands and face, her stained apron in place over her unadorned work dress, to the sparkling Lady Madeleine.
