***
AMITY WANTED TO SCREAM. Not for any particular reason except to let out the nervous emotion that had built up in her all day long. Yet she could hardly do so in the carriage on the way to the duke’s home on St. James Place with Charlotte chattering at her side.
“I think my dress looks fine, don’t you? The velvet ribbon around my waist and the extra lace at my sleeves were the perfect adornments, don’t you agree? And Mother was so kind to lend me her garnet and pearls.”
Amity nodded. She wore her favorite cameo pendant and small diamond earbobs that went with everything. Distracted and anxious about the evening ahead, however, she had barely noticed what Beatrice had draped her in except that it seemed to fit. When she glanced down at her gown, she realized it was the same green as the duke’s eyes, causing her to grip more tightly the handle of the bag containing the tins of chocolates.
“You look frightfully wooden,” Charlotte remarked. “Come along, sis. They will all love theBraysons, and Lady Madeleine will accept the duke, and it shall be a wonderful night.”
Feeling queasy, all Amity could do was nod again. As their carriage pulled up to the magnificent residence in which she had previously sat comfortably, drinking coffee with the duke, she took a deep, fortifying breath — or as deep as she could, given the constraints of her corset and fitted silk gown.
“You are right, of course. And you do look lovely, Charlotte. But, please, be discreet. And absolutely no whistling,” she added.
Her sister made a face. “I told you already, I won’t. But let us have fun, shall we?”
Glancing up at the edifice, every window was lit, and the mansion looked particularly welcoming. “Yes,” Amity agreed.
Knowing the mellowing effect of a glass of wine, she hoped there was a full glass readily available. As they approached the door, it opened promptly, and they were greeted by the butler as well a footman and a maid. If Mr.Giles recalled her bribing him with a sack of sweets to gain entry, he made no sign of it. Their coats were taken swiftly by the footman, and Mr. Giles led the way across the foyer to the staircase.
“The chocolates,” Amity protested, turning to the maid to give her instructions. However, more guests arrived behind her. Fortunately, another liveried servant appeared, seemingly from thin air, to take care of the newcomers. This was the extra special touch of a ducal party — one didn’t even have to wait for one’s coat to be taken.
“Please give these tins to whomever is serving the confectionery course,” Amity told the harried maid. “There are four of them. The three that are identical are for His Grace’s party. The one that is smaller is for the duke alone, forafterthe party. Is that clear?”
“Yes, miss,” said the maid, and she rushed down the hallway toward the kitchen. The butler escorted Amity, Charlotte, and the other two guest upstairs where the Pelhams awaited on the spacious landing.
The duke and the dowager duchess were first in a small receiving line. Amity had always thought he looked handsome, but tonight, he was strikingly so, and her mouth went dry. She would have given her eye teeth for there to have been a servant on the stairs handing out glasses of wine as she’d ascended.
“Here she is, Mother,” the Duke of Pelham exclaimed. “The chocolatier, herself!”
Amity curtsied first to the dowager duchess who greeted her kindly.
“So glad you could come,” the woman said with enthusiasm. “I have had your chocolates before, I confess, but I am looking forward to tonight’s treat.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
Next, Amity curtsied to the duke, who bowed deeply and then ruined the formality by grinning boldly at her.
“You look well tonight, Miss Rare-Foure. Thank you again for coming.”
“Thank you, my lord.” As if her tongue and her brain were wrapped in wool, Amity could think of nothing else to say so she curtsied again and moved along, with Charlotte behind her.
A young woman with a strong family resemblance introduced herself as the duke’s sister, Lady Penelope, and beside her was Lord Yardley, her husband.
Finally, Amity turned toward the drawing room in which she’d spent a pleasant few hours with the duke. Nothing looked or felt the same, and she was comforted to have Charlotte, overflowing with happiness, at her side.
Unfortunately, there was no escaping the nerve-wracking introductions in there, either. Standing by the fire was the guest of honor, Lady Madeleine, with a small group to her left hanging on her every word. The couple standing on her right, watching with great interest, was undoubtedly Lord and Lady Brayson, and the young man with his back to his sister, speaking to another young lady, must be her brother by the flaxen coloring of his hair.
Amity didn’t recognize another soul until Lord Waverly suddenly appeared at her elbow.
“Miss Rare-Foure, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Yes, my lord. And this is my sister, Miss Charlotte.”
“A pleasure,” he said, bowing slightly to each one. “May I get you ladies a drink, or at least flag down a servant?”
“Yes,” Amity said, perhaps too quickly, “thank you. Whatever anyone else is drinking is fine.”
“I believe there is wine or sherry.” He gestured for a servant with a tray to come closer so Amity and Charlotte could help themselves.
