“Both appear as if by magic on my dining table as needed.” Then he snapped his fingers. “I do know where to buy the best brandy.”
“And cigars, too, I’d warrant,” Amity guessed.
“Certainly,” he agreed. “And most definitely coffee beans. Although usually I send my footman to purchase all of these items.”
“As you should. Thus, we both have our areas of interest, do we not?”
“We do,” he said amiably, holding her gaze for a long moment.
She directed his steps down Clifford Street and, after a short block, they turned onto Cork Street. The second shop window from the corner glittered with tin molds.
When they entered, she appreciated how he immediately had an interest in his surroundings.
“They have every shape and size,” he marveled.
“There are molds for soap, candles, sweets, and even if you wish to get fancy with your blancmange or aspic.”
He hesitated and stared at her.
“I mean your cook, my lord. Not you,” she amended hastily in case she’d offended him.
“No, it wasn’t that which gave me pause. Just the notion offancyaspic. I’ve never cared for jellied anything. I much prefer my chocolate in a decorative shape than my aspic.” He shuddered.
“Agreed. Today, I want to buy twelve walnut molds, and if you see something you would like for Lady Madeleine, we can decide against the fondant chocolate center, which must be hand-rolled into a ball, and I will make molded chocolates instead.”
“Very well. I shall look, but if I find something, I will buy it,” he insisted, “not you.”
She wasn’t going to argue with him, since he probably wouldn’t allow her to use it again after creating the originalBraysonchocolate.
When he chose a flower-shaped mold for his lady, she explained she needed a tray of at least a dozen into which she could pour tempered chocolate.
“See this,” she said, showing him a tray of rabbits hinged to bring the front and back sides together and create a fully formed rabbit. “But your molds should be flat on the bottom, so no hinge.”
She watched the duke wander around again, exclaiming over the cleverness of one after the other, until he found a tray of flowers he thought suitable.
When he picked up a well-crafted stag, he went quiet. Amity crossed the store to his side.
“Do you like it?” she asked.
“It reminds me of my father,” he said softly. “He had a painting of a stag like this in his study, which is now my own. It makes me think of when we went hunting together.”
The duke had a wistful tone to his voice, and Amity decided to return and purchase an entire tray of stag molds. When she finished Lady Madeleine’s chocolate, she would craft him a special stag-shaped confection.
“Where next?” he asked when they had finished making their purchases.
Thus, she found herself accompanied by an escort from the highest echelon of British nobility while she purchased yards of blue ribbon her mother wanted to tie around the tops of their white Rare Confectionery bags. The strangeness wore off quickly, and they chatted like friends, pointing out items in the shop windows. Amity had the feeling he didn’t window shop often or shop at all very much. Nevertheless, the duke seemed to enjoy himself.
“It’s the chocolate lady,” came a young voice at her elbow. She didn’t always recognize her youngest patrons, but they absolutely recognized her.
Reaching into her reticule, she drew out a paper sack. Today, she had balls of chocolate fondant with a small marzipan center hidden inside. Handing one to the boy, who thanked her and ran off, she looked up to see the duke staring hard at the sack, like a dog would at a bone.
Laughing, she offered him one.
“Oh,” he exclaimed after devouring it. “That’s very good.”
“That’s Miss Charlotte’s marzipan,” she told him, “elevating the humble chocolate into something else entirely.”
“I believe that’s the delicious chocolate elevating the humble marzipan,” he quipped.
