“You come from enterprising stock, it seems. And thus, back to business, Miss Rare-Foure. I believe we have an agreement, yes? Before a fortnight is out, you will create a chocolate delicacy specifically for my party, and we shall name it for the woman I hope to marry.”
Why hadn’t he said that in the first place?She hadn’t given him the chance, she supposed — instead jumping to an unfortunate assumption that had sent her on an emotional ride along with the carriage ride. Good thing she did have a suitor in the back pot, as it were. Jeremy Cole was definitely the name she had momentarily forgotten, and his affable expression swam in front of her eyes framed by sandy brown hair. A perfectly good man.
“The name, my lord?”
“Lady Madeleine—”
“Brayson,” she guessed.
“Yes. How remarkable!”
“No, not really.” Amity ought to have known instantly without going on her outrageous journey of delusion. “Everyone who lives within a stone’s throw of Mayfair has heard how Lady Madeleine has taken the Season and thebon tonby storm. Why wouldn’t you want her?”
If rumors were true, she was the most beautiful creature to grace London’s ballrooms in a donkey’s age. Amity had never seen her, but not because her family didn’t have the money for a ball. In truth, she didn’t care for the whole debutante and match-making notion of a Season. It seemed passé and a little degrading.
The carriage came to a halt, and she realized they must be in front of her own shop.
“I hate to tell you this, my lord, but there is already a famous sweet treat namedthe Madeleine, some call it a small cake, some a soft biscuit. Anyway, it’s a cakelike treat baked in a dainty shell-shaped mold. Everyone in the bakery or patisserie world has heard of them already.”
He made a face of dissatisfaction, while remaining as handsome-looking as ever. She hated to disappoint him.
“Perhaps her last name, my lord. We could call it aBrayson.”
“Not as pretty sounding as aMadeleine,” he protested.
She shrugged. “TheMaddie, perhaps?”
He winced slightly. “I shall think on it, and we shall name it later.”
Nodding to the waiting footman who peered discreetly through the coach window, the duke waited while the man opened the door, let down the steps, and assisted her onto the pavement.
Keenly aware when the duke alighted directly behind her, Amity turned to face her new patron.
“John will help you inside with your packages,” the duke insisted as his footman gathered her belongings from the storage box. “I shan’t go inside your shop again as I created a bit of mayhem last time.”
Amity groaned inside her head, imagining how her mother and sisters might have behaved.
“Good day, my lord. I will not let you down.”A ridiculous thing to say, she chided herself, as she curtsied. She wasn’t a diplomat stopping a foreign war. Merely a chocolatier developing a confection for an over-indulgent man to give to the beautiful woman on whom he’d set his sights.
Undoubtedly, her creation would win over the fair Lady Madeleine to any proposal the Duke of Pelham made during the party or after.
Even more assuredly, Lady Madeleine did not need chocolate to persuade her to marry the duke.
“Good day, Miss Rare-Foure. A pleasure to meet you.”
Turning away, she sighed at such handsomeness and went inside with the duke’s footman trailing behind. And, as expected, all hell broke loose.
