She felt the blood drain from her head. “I didn’t think clearly.” Right then, she was very glad she had a caring mother.
“Sometimes I think you forget how lovely you are.”
At that, she shrugged. “I take your warning to heart, and it won’t happen again, but do recall I am making a special chocolate for him to give to Lady Madeleine on the night he intends to propose. You have read the glowing reports of her beauty. Why would the duke want to dally with me when his sights are set on her?”
Her mother rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Amity, Amity, Amity. I know you’re my eldest daughter, but sometimes, I vow, Beatrice seems ancient in comparison to you.”
They left it at that, and Amity returned to the back of the shop, a room that now smelt of the duke’s maleness and ... she sniffed ... the lingering scent of hiseau de toilette. Strange, when he was next to her, she’d been focused on the chocolate and other flavors, and hadn’t noticed his fragrance.
Now, reentering the small space, she breathed in the complex fragrance of whatever luxurious men’s perfume he’d been wearing, just as when she’d first climbed into his coach. The lush, spicy floral scent was couched on a bed of sandalwood, cedar, and clean, soapy musk. Amity decided the duke smelled like heaven.Masculine heaven!
Sitting upon the stool he’d vacated, she considered the look he’d given her directly before they’d left the room. Shewasnaïve, as her mother said, and, of course, she was inexperienced, except for a few kisses with Jeremy, which had been pleasant to be sure. Even so, she knew she’d seen something in the duke’s expression and glittering in his eyes — regard, even admiration ... or, perhaps, attraction.
She could admit to herself she, at least, had felt a sizzle of desire.
Her body wanted to be close to the Duke of Pelham.
Her and every other woman in London, no doubt!
She shook her head at her foolish fancy, and then she got back to work.
***
THE NEXT DAY, DESPITEtelling herself not to, Amity kept her ears pricked for the bell, and was disappointed each time she realized it was aregularcustomer answering Charlotte’s greeting.
Her mind was only half on what she was doing. That was clear when she scalded a batch of chocolate, something she hadn’t done since she was ten years old.
“Stop it!” she muttered, as she made a tray of chocolates shaped like fish that were going to a dinner party the next evening. Sadly, they ended up looking more like sausages, and she knew she would have to remake them. To her continued distress, her elegant swans came out like long-necked chickens.
The duke had said he might not be able to come. Nor should she be hoping he would. He was a distraction. Worse, after just a few encounters, she was becoming attached, which was beyond asinine.
Amity removed her apron, tidied and readied herself to go on her errands. She’d had her eye on a new mold, shaped like a walnut, which would hold a decent amount of chocolate and a large piece of nut in the center. Rare Confectionery would have to charge more for those chocolates because of the size, but the shape would make them popular in the autumn and during the Christmas season.
With her favorite plum-colored cloak on and her hat pinned in place, she opened the door and ran directly into the Duke of Pelham.
“I’m too late,” he said, reaching an arm out to steady her.
“Good day, my lord.” Amity looked up into his handsome face and felt regret. Even if he’d come earlier, she wouldn’t have allowed him into the back room as she had done the previous time. Not after her mother’s rebuke.
“Have you finished your artistry for the day, Miss Rare-Foure?”
When someone tried to push past them to get into the shop, he moved aside and drew her with him. How strange to have his hands on her arm as if they were a couple. However, because they were on the public street, Amity wiggled her arm until he released it.
“No, my lord. I’m off to purchase a few supplies and stretch my legs.”
He looked up and down the pavement, then back at her. “May I accompany you?”
“Um ... why?” She bit her lip as soon as she’d spoken, hoping she didn’t sound terribly rude.
He chuckled. “Why, indeed? I am at sixes and sevens, I suppose. I finished up some business this morning as quickly as I could and intended to spend time with you. Figuring out the chocolate,” he added quickly. “Thus, I have time to spare and no plans.”
She could hardly turn him down even though she had no chaperone with her, and never did for her quick errands in the neighborhood. After all, what could be safer than London’s most exclusive shopping district? Still, her mother might not approve.
Amity lifted her chin. She was not a child, and the duke posed absolutely no threat.
“I suppose it would be all right?” Her words had come out as a nervous question.
His smile died. “I don’t wish to impose myself upon you.”
