“We went to the opera house. Have you been?”
“Of course,” she said, a little too quickly, her tone snappish. Simply because she wasn’t titled did not mean she wasn’t cultured. “It is lovely in London, but I prefer the opera house in Paris.”Let him chew on that.
“I do, as well,” he declared, jovially. “I think it’s marvelous you feel that way. I am British to the core, but some things are better on the Continent.”
“Like coffee,” she teased, trying to regain her good humor.
“Or chocolate?” he asked with a playful tone.
She narrowed her eyes. “Sometimes perhaps. But when you are in the square footage of Rare Confectionery, there is no confectionery to better it anywhere in the world. Of that, I am confident.”
In fact, she had a surprise for him, something she’d worked on with almost instant success. But this was not the time to present her gift. She planned to do so by taking a tin discreetly to his home and leaving it with his butler for after the party.
He grinned, and something inside her fluttered with pleasure. “I agree,” he said. “And I would not allow your store to be diminished in any way. That’s why I came today. Partly, at any rate. To tell you I spoke with Lady Madeleine. I told her since I enjoy patronizing Rare Confectionery, I would appreciate her leaving it alone.”
Amity caught her breath. Before she could thank him, he continued, “After all, a duke and a duchess cannot be at odds over a sweet shop.”
How utterly correct of him. How sensible! He must keep up appearances.So why did she want to throw the tray of chocolates at his head?
“Thank you,” she said, knowing she didn’t sound particularly grateful.
“You are welcome. Nonetheless, I need to add that, onyourside, all the Rare-Foures must leave Lady Madeleine alone, too.”
Leave her alone?“I beg your pardon, my lord.”
“What I mean is,” he clarified, “it isn’t fair, nor particularly productive, for you and your mother to speak disrespectfully to Lady Madeleine, and certainly not in public.”
Amity’s ears were buzzing, and a slow burning fury began to simmer. She had best get him out of the shop quickly for she was apt to say something entirely unbefitting polite discourse.
“I understand, my lord. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” She tried to get past him, but he blocked the exit. “You are keeping me from it.”
“Your tone is churlish,” he remarked, sounding surprised. “Can you possibly be angry with me?”
Breathe,she counseled herself. “Will you let me pass?”
“Youareangry,” he realized. “Is it because I asked you to treat the lady civilly?”
Amity practically growled, but clamped her mouth closed to prevent gnashing her teeth with irritation. Suddenly, his hands were upon her upper arms, and she looked up at him, falling into the depths of his green eyes.
“I did not mean to offend you, not for the world,” he said, his expressions sincere. “Did I get something wrong? Did you not have words with her in front of your shop?”
“Yes, but—”
“And did your mother not also give Lady Madeleine a tongue-thrashing out on the pavement?”
“Yes, she did. However—”
“Then no matter how it came about, the two of you were against one, and she could hardly defend herself in similar fashion unbecoming a lady.”
Amity intended to tell him precisely how unbecoming his lady was, with her smirking friends around her like military support, when the shop bell tinkled. Turning her head, two customers, both women, had entered, and now they looked directly at her through the open curtain.
And at the duke! With his hands upon her!
Amity shrugged out of his touch and exited the back room.
“Good day, may I help you?”
The customers stared at her, eyes wide, mouths slightly open in shock, and Amity knew her cheeks were aflame, making it worse.
