Chapter Fourteen
Henry looked at thetalented woman beside him, whose pretty mouth was speaking of trouble, making it no less kissable. A minute ago, he had given in to the temptation — the momentary madness — only to be halted by her maid.
Thank God!He realized the usefulness of a chaperone was to prevent stupidity.
All the same, he would do anything to help Amity. Under no circumstances would he allow her wonderful shop to be put out of business.
Not even at the hands of Lady Madeleine.
“As I said, I thought you had come to demand an apology, which I heartily give to you. But even worse, I thought you might be here to declare you would no longer be my chocolatier. That would have been far more difficult to deal with than whatever the situation is with Lady Madeleine,” he told her. “Let me get us something to drink first, and after you can tell me everything. You would like tea, I suppose.”
“Oh, please, my lord, don’t go to any trouble.”
“I assure you, unlike yourself, I’m not heading down into the kitchens to put on the kettle.” Not that he didn’t like that about her. There was something very attractive about a woman who could handle herself at the cookstove, which naturally, he never saw happen among his own class.
Getting up to ring the bell, he told her, “You have less than a minute before my butler will arrive to ask what we want.”
“Mostly, I drink chocolate.”
“Surely, not all day long,” he said.
She shrugged, which he took to mean she actually did.
“I doubt we have the superior drinking chocolate you’re used to.”
She hesitated, then seemed to be making a confession. “If I don’t have time to shave and melt chocolate into milk, I will use cocoa. And you are correct. I am quite fastidious about which one I drink. For instance, I won’t drink anything like Iceland Moss.” Amity shuddered in a fashion that made him want to laugh at her dire seriousness over cocoa, but he refrained out of good manners.
“Nor will I drink Pearl Cocoa,” she continued. “It has arrowroot added to absorb some of the oil in the cocoa, which should have already been pressed out. I won’t touch Rowntree’s on principal. I have it on reliable authority that company used spies and subterfuge to learn secrets of the superior cocoa producers like Cadbury. Of course, there’s Sloane’s and Taylor’s and a hundred other manufacturers of varying purity—”
“Miss Rare-Foure,” he interrupted her.
Warming to her topic, she hardly seemed to notice, even though his butler had now arrived to determine their wishes.
“I have always preferred Cadbury’s Cocoa Essence,” she said, this time, addressing his butler as well, as if Mr. Giles was a fellow cocoa connoisseur. “It is very pure. Do you have that? Or Cacao Barry? It costs more as it is made in France from African beans. Though I suppose the additional cost would mean nothing to you, my lord.” She bit her lower lip delightfully and then admitted, “I also enjoy a mug of saloop.”
Henry grinned. “Strange you should say that. I know it’s not at all remotely fashionable, but so do I. Or, at least, I did. When I was a boy, we had a cook who made it just so. She was very particular, as are you, when it came to her flavors. I haven’t had it since I was in short pants. Truthfully, I don’t even know what it was made from?”
“Orchid roots. I’ll make you a cup sometime,” Amity promised him. “I get a tin of the superior Turkish salep powder from the supplier of our best lokum, which some are starting to callLumps of Turkish Delight.”
He liked the notion she would do something special for him, separate from her business and nothing to do with Lady Madeleine. Solely for him. “Thank you.”
He stared at her, and she stared back, smiling. Something about his chocolatier made it difficult for him to catch his breath sometimes. If he didn’t know better, he would say he was smitten.
“Coffee, Mr. Giles, for two,” Henry told his butler.
Amity raised an eyebrow. “For some reason, despite my father’s family being from France, my parents love tea beyond anything, and thus, coffee has never been a staple in our house.”
“But you’ve had it?” It would be fun to introduce her to something new for a change, instead of the other way around.
“Yes, I have, at a party. It was ... interesting.”
“You didn’t care for it?” Henry felt a little let down. “Oddly, a few times, after I left your shop, I went to White’s, and the taste of chocolate still in my mouth combined exceptionally well with coffee.”
“Truly?” She glanced at the chocolates in front of her. “I shall be most interested to sample your coffee.”
At her willingness to try, his good humor returned and he sat again beside her. “Come to think of it, White’s started as a hot chocolate emporium.”
“Yes, indeed,” she agreed. “Mrs. White's Chocolate House. There was also The Cocoa Tree, and Ozinda’s, all here in St. James.”
