“I suppose I must confess,” Madeleine continued, “since it seems important to you. I already spoke with one of the shopgirls, maybe from the party. I honestly cannot recall. I had words with her mother, too, because they both accosted me, if you must know, as I was passing by their shop. I said my piece to them, and I think they received my message.”
Her message?“Was there a public scene?” Not only would it be unbecoming a future duchess, the more public the quarrel, the worse for Rare Confectionery.
Madeleine sniffed. “Rather public, I’m afraid. All on their side, of course. Berating me on the pavement like common fishwives. What could I do?”
Henry didn’t like to think of the formidable Rare-Foure women ganging up on Madeleine. She might be a little narrow-minded and even arrogant, but she was also a mild-mannered female, harmless despite her frivolous threat regarding the confectionery. After all, she’d merely been sampling a chocolate when Amity’s sister lashed out at her. Now, it seemed she had innocently walked by the store and was set upon.
He felt his ire rise on her behalf. He had told Amity he would handle it, and she should have trusted him to do so, not taken matters into her own hands.
“I am sorry you had to go through that,” he told Madeleine, hoping to make amends and to reset his focus upon the one female who should matter to him. “By the way, have I told you how exquisite you look tonight? Every night, actually.”
She rewarded him with her perfect smile, and it shone from her eyes this time, too. They were definitely growing used to one another and becoming more friendly. Tonight, they would enjoy the opera and perhaps — if the stars aligned — he would finally enjoy a kiss.
The chaperone shifted in her seat, and Henry realized all the stars in the world weren’t going to make that happen. He might have to marry this female without ever tasting her lips.
***
WHEN THE SHOP BELLtinkled, the last person Amity expected to see was the Duke of Pelham striding in. She thought they would no longer be graced with His Grace, as it were, not since she’d created theBraysonto his satisfaction. Perhaps he wanted to try it again and be certain. However, since his party was in two nights, she could not imagine how she could start over.
Charlotte had run out on an errand, and thus Amity was alone. She could not go into the back room with him — nor should that have been the first thought in her head.What was wrong with her?
“Good day, my lord. How are you?”
“Well, thank you, Miss Rare-Foure, and yourself?”
The formality was all wrong, but they were in public and, despite being alone, acting any other way was impossible.
“Are you here to try theBraysonagain?” she asked.
“I should, now that you mention it” he agreed. “If you have one on hand.”
“Yes, I do. I’ve made a few trays,” she told him and disappeared behind the curtain to retrieve a single preciousBrayson. To her alarm, he followed her all the way to the cupboard on the back wall, making butterflies take flight in her stomach.
Wishing to return to the shop front as quickly as possible, Amity found the correct tray. She snatched up one chocolate with her bare hand and whirled around, nearly slapping the duke in the chest with it.
Startled by his closeness, and how his heavenly fragrance already tickled her nose, she dropped it.
“Rats!” she exclaimed at her clumsiness. She hated to waste anything so delightful as a chocolate.
Simultaneously, they bent to retrieve the wayward confection, their heads bumping together with a loud clunk, knocking the duke’s hat off and making Amity grab her forehead.
“Ow!” she said.
“So sorry,” he said.
Rising, the duke handed her the confection, which she tossed toward the rubbish bin in the corner. Too late, he removed his white glove, now smeared with chocolate.
“Let us try again,” she said, rubbing her temple. More slowly, with composure, she reached for the entire tray, turned with a steady hand, and let him take his own sweet.
He ate it slowly, his gaze never leaving hers, making her pulse race.
Foolish woman!she scolded herself watching his throat as he swallowed, causing her to swallow as well.
He nodded. “Yes, after spending the evening with her last night, I can say it is the perfectBrayson.”
Amity felt as if he’d slapped her. She was starkly aware this was all about bringing the duke and Lady Madeleine together, and yet the image of them keeping company the way she and he had done — perhaps sharing coffee and laughing — wrenched at her heart. All the same, she knew he hadn’t meant anything unkind by telling her.
“What did you do? Last evening, I mean?” She didn’t know why she asked and fervently wished she could draw back her words.
