“The Duke of Pelham is not to be addressed as ‘my lord,’ you dunce. Do you not realize how every time you say ‘my lord,’ His Grace is laughing at you? We arealllaughing. A duke is to be addressed as ‘Your Grace’ or even ‘sir,’ exactly as his mother — or hiswife— is always ‘Her Grace’ or ‘madam.’ It is nearly inconceivable that you do not know this common courtesy. Those of us who aremeantto be here,” she gestured around her taking in his opulent ballroom, “we learned this when we could barely read or write.”
Amity took a step back, looking as if each of Madeleine’s words had been a slap across the face. Her mortified glance went from her assailant to him, and Henry felt his own face heat with embarrassment, as much for Madeleine’s rudeness and lack of graciousness as for Amity’s innocent mistake.
The fault was all his. He should have told her. In private, of course, not like this. In any case, Madeleine was wrong — he had never laughed at Amity over the error. In truth, he found it quite endearing, but that was no excuse for not telling her.
“I ... I...,” Amity began, then stopped.
“Lady Madeleine,” Henry reprimanded, “you have spoken impolitely to one of my guests.”
He wished his chocolatier’s eyes would flash with anger at him or Madeleine. Instead, without another word, she turned and fled the ballroom. It was the last thing he’d expected to happen.
Her sister started after her, but she paused and turned. “Rare Confectionery has never produced anything but the finest,” she stated loudly and clearly. “It is you,” she pointed at Madeleine, “who isvile, the way you brought your pack of she-wolves to our shop to harass us. You should be ashamed, but I suppose your type doesn’t know the meaning of the wordshame. Your palate must be as crude as your nature if you cannot discern delicious chocolate when you taste it.”
Miss Charlotte glanced around her at the stunned guests as if daring even one to say anything. Greeted by horrified silence, she turned and looked directly at him. Henry held his breath, wondering if she would unleash her anger on him next. Instead, she gave him a few words of advice.
“You should be careful of that one,” she said, gesturing with a flick of her thumb at Madeleine.
“How dare you!” This from both Madeleine and her parents simultaneously.
Miss Charlotte rolled her brown eyes and continued to address him. This time, however, she offered the same smile with which she always greeted her customers, including him.
“The dinner was delicious, Your Grace.” She curtsied. “Thank you for inviting us.” With that, she departed the ballroom.
Bravo!he thought, wishing Amity had seen her sister’s composure. Even more, he wished it had not been necessary in the first place.
“Thank goodness they are gone,” Madeleine said spitefully.
Meanwhile, her mother picked up another chocolate and bit into it. “Why, it’s delicious,” she said.
“What?” Madeleine declared, rounding upon her mother.
“Chocolate and lavender,” Lady Brayson mused. “How delightful!”
“Let me taste,” and she snatched the remainder from her mother’s fingers, popping it between her lips.
“Well?” Henry asked her, wanting her to repair Amity’s reputation as a chocolatier in front of everyone.
Madeleine lifted her shoulder in a practiced shrug before admitting, “Much nicer than the first, I will say that.”
Henry looked down at the discarded chocolate morsel that had so displeased her, almost afraid to taste it.What could possibly be wrong?After a pause, he picked it up and ate it.
Closing his eyes at the flavors, he could hardly believe what Amity had done.
***
AS SOON AS AMITY REACHEDhome, she went to her room, ignoring her parents and Beatrice who were in the drawing room. Charlotte could fill them in on her humiliation and abject failure.
At the Duke of Pelham’s house, she’d waited in the downstairs foyer for her sister to join her, having asked the footman to summon their carriage. It had been a short, tense ride home. She wasn’t the type to cry, but unexpectedly had felt tears pricking her eyes.
Charlotte had been uncharacteristically quiet, sitting sit beside her and placing a supportive hand on her knee for the journey back to Baker Street. Amity hadn’t asked what she’d said to the gathering, knowing her sister had said something. That was inevitable. Hopefully, nothing embarrassing, but Amity didn’t see how she could be more disgraced than she already was. Nor could she imagine how the damage to Rare Confectionery could be any worse.
Would they have any customers at all come the morning?
Of course they would, she consoled herself. Perhaps not among the elite, but they had plenty of regulars who didn’t know anything about the Duke of Pelham or Lady Madeleine, nor had ever encountered thehaut ton.Lucky them!
In her room, Amity sat heavily upon her bed.Why hadn’t the duke told her the very first time she’d committed the error in his presence? Or even Lord Waverly, for that matter?Instead, she had been schooled by the most snout-nosed lady in front of the least forgiving people she could imagine. And now she knew a duke was not a lord.
How confounding!Although she’d often said “His Grace” when referring to him, she had never used “Your Grace” when speaking with him as it sounded blatantly ridiculous to her ears.What else had she got wrong?
