“Hm,” Henry said, for he was thinking how nice it would be to escort Miss Rare-Foure somewhere special. He wanted to know what she thought about everything, including the food and the other guests. He wanted to take her to Gunter’s, a fashionable eatery in Mayfair on Berkeley Square, and taste ices and sorbets with her.Would she like the saffron mousse or the maple cream ice?
“Are you listening to me, Pelham?”
“No,” he said truthfully. Feeling guilty that his focus wasn’t solely on Madeleine, he had half a mind to go back to the confectionery and buy her a little gift. On second thought, he decided against doing so. Henry wanted his gift of chocolate to be a complete surprise, and the party was now just over a week away.
“I think I’m going to buy Lady Madeleine a token, something feminine and lacy.”
“Like drawers or a shift?” Waverly asked, a wicked expression on his face.
“Why not? I shall walk up to her with her parents in the room and gift her a pair of Belgian-lace drawers. That should go over well.”
They laughed again and passed in front of a haberdashery. “I suppose a handkerchief,” Henry said, and turned into the shop, not caring if Waverly followed.
“Enjoy your shopping,” Waverly called after him and continued along the street.
***
AMITY HAD ON HER FAVORITEplum-colored evening gown. Luckily, it matched her favorite plum-colored day gown perfectly so she could wear the matching mantle. Her mother had insisted she dress the part even though she was not a guest for tonight’s party but only delivering the chocolates.
“Through the front door,” Felicity Rare-Foure insisted. “We arenotservants. Lord Peabody should have sent someone round to collect the chocolates. Whatever happens, you are not to go behind to the mews and knock at the back door like a laundress or milkman.”
“Yes, Mother.” And she sent Delia, their maid-of-all work, an apologetic look in case she was offended by the general denigration of servants. The middle-aged woman, however, shrugged, seemingly unbothered, and handed over Amity’s gloves.
Because of her youngest sister’s keen interest on the homes and habits of the wealthy, Amity took Charlotte along for company, dressed equally well in a rose-colored gown.
“Please remain calm,” Amity begged her sister as their carriage pulled up in front of a townhouse on Charles Street, off the west side of the fashionable Berkeley Square.
Nevertheless, fizzing with excitement as if they were actually going to be honored guests and seated at the dining table, Charlotte whistled her happiness. Amity gasped.
“For heaven’s sake, don’t do that no matter how excited you become, no matter who you see, or how nice anyone is to you. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” her sister said, her brown eyes sparkling.
Amity grabbed her arm as Charlotte darted ahead toward the front door.
“I mean it,” she reiterated. “Behave or I shall tell Mother you cannot go out in civilized society. No upcoming Guy Fawkes party, either. No bonfire with your friends.”
Charlotte slowed her step and sighed. “Very well. Thank you for letting me come.”
At that, Amity smiled. She’d known how much pleasure her youngest sister would get from seeing inside the luxurious townhouse, even if no farther inside than the foyer.
The door opened ahead of their knocking since the butler was undoubtedly stationed at the entrance to admit guests. This would be absurdly early, however, as their mother had said the party didn’t start for another hour.
By the sound of the many voices coming from the drawing room, their mother had been blatantly mistaken. Amity hoped the chocolates were intended forafterdinner, as it seemed guests were already having drinks.
The butler tried to take their mantles, but Amity dissuaded him.
“We are not staying. We brought the chocolates ordered by Lady Peabody,” she whispered, not wanting any of the guests to overhear. “If you could direct us toward the kitchen,” she added.
“Mother would not want us going to the kitchen,” Charlotte said, her voice a little too loud, then she turned to the butler. “We arenotservants, you see.” She sounded exactly like their mother.
Amity wanted to shush her sister before she offended the man. But Charlotte gave him a large smile and continued, “Not that there is anything wrong with being a servant, you understand. Especially not a butler. You have an entire house to oversee. My sister, here, she oversees the making of all our chocolates. She is like the butler of Rare Confectionery. That’s the name of our shop.”
The butler sighed as if listening to a young lady prattle on was beyond his duties.
“Would you like to take the chocolates?” Amity asked him, “or perhaps you could fetch the housekeeper?”
Before he could respond, a booming voice called out to them from the open drawing room door.
