Beatrice hesitated but began stirring again. “Don’t be melodramatic.”
“That was not simply any arrogant peahen,” Amity protested. “That was Lady Madeleine Brayson, darling of all London. Thecrème de la crèmehang upon her every word. If she tells people at a salon or a party that Rare Confectionery is not to be patronized, they will listen. I know we have customers from all classes, but the majority of the income, the greatest spenders, if you will, come from a one-mile radius of Mayfair.”
She paused for a breath, but couldn’t help continuing her first harsh words aimed at Beatrice for years. “Do you realize over half the homes surrounding us are owned by titled nobility? About one hundred and twenty of them, in fact! And they are all enamored of that young woman you just insulted. In a word, sister, we may be sunk.”
Beatrice remained silent for a long moment before muttering, “That’s four words.”
“Argh!” Amity yelled, then turned around and went straight for the chocolate in the display case, snatching one of the nutty, chewy “strength” chocolates Lord Pelham had so favored. She devoured it swiftly.
The duke!She would call upon him as soon as visiting hours began at eleven o’clock the next day. Unless Lady Madeleine were going to see him that very evening, Amity could hope to get to him first. She would beg him to persuade the lady to forgive her and Beatrice and not to ruin Rare Confectionery.
And she would definitely take him more chocolates to try. She would stay up all night if she had to, crafting the very best confections she could think of for that peevish shrew the duke desired.
“All that external beauty is wasted on her,” Beatrice called out. “Come taste this batch of toffee and see what you think? I added something special.”
Amity rolled her eyes. She couldn’t stay angry at her sister, who meant no harm but called a spade a spade — and to the devil with the consequences.
***
AT TEN MINUTES TO ELEVENthe next morning, Amity stood upon the pavement in front of the Duke of Pelham’s magnificently appointed mansion. Not a shrubbery was out of place. Located at the premier St. James Place, the duke’s home was intimidating. Next door was Spencer House, and she’d passed Devonshire House to get there. Everywhere were dukes and earls, it seemed. Amity couldn’t believe she was going to breech the walls with a tin of chocolates as her battering ram.
To that end, she had a separate offering for whomever opened the door, probably a butler. As expected, a tall, stately fellow who looked to be as aristocratic as anyone he could possibly serve, peered down his nose at her, and then he glanced past her to Delia, their maid-of-all-work, whom she’d brought as a companion.
“I am here to see the Duke of Pelham,” she began immediately, hoping all her words were coherent. “We must discuss the sweet surprise for his upcoming dinner party. My name is Miss Rare-Foure. Here is my card. And here, if you please, is a small gift of my chocolates.”
She thrust into his hands one of their small sacks with a blue stamp of their store name.
The butler took it but looked at the bleached white paper sack as if it might smell bad or explode. Either way, he was not impressed.
“Do you have an appointment?” he asked.
Drats!The man already knew she had no appointment and no invitation, for any butler worth his salt would know the schedule of his household.
“No.” She paused. “His lordship was at my shop recently and intended to go there again soon, perhaps even today. I am creating a brand-new chocolate confection for him. Thus, I am here to ... to accelerate the process.”
Handing the tin of chocolates behind her to Delia, Amity reached for the paper bag the butler continued to hold at arm’s length. Opening it for him, she raised it under his long, aquiline nose. He sniffed. His face remained entirely expressionless. However, his eyes widened slightly. Then he blinked and looked down at the contents.
“Would you like to try one?” she asked.Who could resist after catching the delicious aroma of chocolate?
Slowly, he took the bag from her again and tipped it on its side. A chocolate square slid out onto his white-gloved palm. He scrunched the bag with the remaining chocolate into a hidden pocket in his livery and picked up the square, putting it into his mouth without preamble.
Amity watched his expression relax as he briefly closed his eyes. He swallowed before his lids snapped open again.
“This way, miss.”
Stepping back, he allowed her entry, followed by her maid. Closing the door, he strode across the spacious foyer and up the stairs. Apparently, his lordship’s parlor was on the second level.
Trying not to appear as a bumpkin, she glanced at the splendid décor, looking up surreptitiously at the enormous foyer chandelier. As her gloved hand slid along the polished handrail, her feet sunk into the carpeted stairs. She couldn’t help looking sideways to exchange a glance of awe with Delia.
Upon the landing, the butler turned into the first room on the left, an expansive parlor, with pale blush wallpaper and an oriental carpet. The various seats around the room were plush with cushions. It looked to be a very pleasant place to meet and chat.
Unfortunately, Amity’s insides were quaking, and she feared throwing up on the luxurious carpet if this discussion didn’t go well.
“Please wait here, miss. I will see if His Grace is available to meet with you.”
“Thank you.” She couldn’t imagine she would be standing there, marveling at the grand fireplace, the massive painting above it, or the graceful statue in the corner if she hadn’t bribed the help with chocolate.
Sometimes she wondered at the powerful intoxicant at her disposal. One certainly didn’t get that response from a regular Fry’s Cream Stick. She turned to their maid.
