Lady Madeleine’s face paled further if possible, and spots of angry color appeared high on her cheeks.
“Here it comes,” Delia muttered.
“How dare you!” Lady Madeleine said predictably. “Itwasthe chocolate, I tell you.”
“Because you ate nothing else all day long except our fine confections that recently you proclaimed so delicious you could eat every piece in our store?” Amity had raised her voice, while her heart began to pound with indignation.
“Yes, I tell you.” Lady Madeleine looked around at her insipid friends, who all glared at Amity.
She sighed. She should simply apologize, but she could see Charlotte peering out the left-hand window, her normally jolly face appearing worried. Lady Madeleine had caused distress to her sweet sister!
“Our confections are exceptional and fresh,” Amity proclaimed. “Are you saying if I offer complimentary samples of delicious chocolates, some with candied fruit, some plain, some infused with liqueurs, I shall have no takers?”
“Exactly,” Lady Madeleine spoke for her group. “Not a one of us shall darken your door ever again.”
Amity looked around her at their faces. “Is that correct?”
The ladies’ harsh stares faltered. One licked her lips. Another looked hesitantly at Lady Madeleine.
“None of you wish to sample a delectable slab of treacle toffee, some of it coated in rich chocolate? Or a sweet marzipan creation?”
“No, we don’t,” Lady Madeleine declared, while more than one of her friends glanced toward the window with something that looked like longing.
“Very well,” Amity said. “I wish you all a pleasant day. Please know your custom shall be welcome when next you need fine confectionery. And to you, my lady,” she stared at Lady Madeleine, “I suggest you keep a bottle of Paregoric at hand. Not only will it help with your extreme fretfulness, but also your loose bowels from your sour stomach.”
After that insolent and somewhat repulsive statement, Amity bid Delia good day, as her maid would take the carriage back home to Baker Street. Then, quickly skirting the duke’s ladylove, she reached the shop door.
At the very instant escape was at hand, and the door handle, too, she heard her mother’s voice behind her.
“Amity, are you all right?”
Well, shehadbeen, but her mother was occasionally as outspoken as Beatrice. If she didn’t get the formidable Felicity Rare-Foure away from the confrontation, the situation could deteriorate.
“Everything is fine,” Amity said. “Let us go inside, and I shall explain.”
Unfortunately, Lady Madeleine wasn’t yet satisfied. “Do you know who I am?” she demanded of Amity’s mother.
“I do not,” Mrs. Rare-Foure said. “But I believe you will find you are obstructing the other pedestrians of Bond Street. Would you all like to come in for a sample of our confectionery?”
Amity groaned. This would not end well.
“I am Lady Madeleine Brayson, and I shall never set foot in your awful shop again, nor speak with your doltish daughter.”
Amity’s mother reared back. If there was anything that set her to anger, it was an insult to her store or her daughters. The young lady had done both.
“Here we go,” Delia muttered again, as she had not moved a step toward the carriage once her employer had arrived.
“I suppose theappearanceof good-breeding,” Mrs. Rare-Foure began, with a prolonged perusal of Lady Madeleine from her head to her toes and back again, “does not guarantee an ounce of good manners or good taste. Rare Confectionery has stood successfully here for many years and shall continue to do so for many more.”
She glanced around her at the others who were hanging on her every word. “If you are of the same mind, like a herd of brainless sheep with this green girl as your shepherdess, then you may all move along for you are blocking our door, and we have many customers to serve.”
“You will rue the day—” Lady Madeleine began.
“Oh, my dear young lady,” interrupted Amity’s mother, “I shall rue nothing where you are concerned. I can promise you that. Does your mother know you are walking the streets of Mayfair issuing threatening statements? Brayson, is it? The earl’s daughter that all the society pages like to jabber on about?”
Lady Madeleine lifted her chin in acknowledgment.
“Hm,” Mrs. Rare-Foure said, “I would have thought you to be prettier, but the papers have greatly exaggerated both your looks and your charm.”
