“You had a question, Your Grace,” Madeleine insisted.
Henry had sighed. He was not going to be allowed to drop the matter so easily.Very well, a question. He had to come up with one on the spot.
“Naturally, I need to know whether you prefer the confection to be called theMadeleineor theBrayson?”
Madeleine’s pleasant expression became one of disbelief and then displeasure, and with both a scowl and a thinning out of her lips, she looked less than beautiful for the second time that night. Her father’s face mirrored his daughter’s, and her mother looked beyond nonplussed.
What a mess!
The following day, after finding Rare Confectionery closed, Henry had returned home to a scathing letter from Lord Brayson, asking to know what he meant by playing with his daughter’s affections. In fact, he’d demanded the Duke of Pelham appear at their home the following day and declare his intentions once and for all.
Rightly so, too. Normally, no one demanded a duke do anything, and Henry could have refused. However, if anyone else had treated a young lady in such a shoddy fashion, he would have been firmly on the side of the lady and her family.
On the other hand, he had gone into his pursuit of Lady Madeleine with the best of intentions and had neverplayedwith her affections, since neither he nor she had exchanged a single affectionate word that he could recall.
Finally, he went to the one person whose wisdom he trusted most in the world, who always had his best interest at heart — his mother. When he confessed to the dowager duchess his heart’s greatest desire, she was helpful and brutally honest, as expected.
“You know the choice you’ve made will not be the smoothest, not for either one of you, but I can see on your face it will make you happy. I assume you believe it will make your young woman happy, too. If so, then nothing in this world should stand between you.”
With his mother’s support, Henry believed it was possible to make Amity his duchess. Still, he owed it to the Braysons to speak with them in person. He showed up at their home as requested and a curt encounter ensued in which Lady Madeleine finally showed more passion than during previous meetings. Henry knew it was due more to the loss of a future title than to the loss of him as her husband.
“I am mortified,” Madeleine proclaimed.
“My daughter is not to be your duchess?” Lord Brayson fumed.
“Not a duchess,” Lady Brayson murmured sadly.
“I offer my sincere apology,” he said, speaking solely to Madeleine, “if our few encounters and discussions led you to believe otherwise.”
She had glared and somehow squeezed out a single tear, looking beautiful as she tried to portray sadness when, clearly, all she felt was anger. Finally, she raised a hand to her forehead and fled the room.
For the first time, Henry was extremely glad he had never managed to kiss her. At least, he had not taken advantage of the lady.
Meanwhile, he’d learned from Asprey’s jewelry store that Amity and her family had gone on holiday to their country home in Coggeshall, and he’d been sorely tempted to follow immediately. Or rather, as soon as he figured out where such a place was. From a gentleman at White’s with a passion for maps, Henry learned it was in Essex.
In any case, with indecision reigning supreme, he’d cooled his heels for a week, until at White’s, Waverly said, “If you are serious, Pelham, I think you should go after her.”
“How can I show up out of the blue?” Henry asked, swirling the brandy in his glass. Even the amber liquid, full of subtlety and complex flavors, reminded him of Amity.
Waverly had laughed. “If you are waiting for an invitation, you’ll have a deuced long wait.”
“No, of course not.” Whatdidhe want? “I would hate to get there and find she despises me.”
“Why on earth would she despise you?” Waverly asked, with a jovial slap of the polished table. “Miss Rare-Foure doesn’t know you that well. On the other hand, I do, and even I don’t despise you.”
Henry rolled his eyes and drained the last of his drink.
“I say,” Waverly began, resting his foot on his knee and leaning back comfortably, “you must really like this girl to be in such a twist. Can you be worried she’ll refuse you?”
“The look upon her face when she left the party,” Henry reminded him and shook his head. She had appeared to hate him.
Waverly nodded. “Partly my fault. I should have told her the correct form of address, but I thought the evening would end and she would slip back to her world, never having cause to address you publicly again. Nor any duke, for that matter. How could I know you intended her for your wife?”
“How could I know?” Henry asked. “The notion slipped up and grabbed me, and now I cannot think how I can live without her.”
“Amazing. I wonder if love shall attack me in similar fashion. It sounds positively dreadful.” Waverly pretended to shudder.
Henry couldn’t help smiling. “It’s not dreadful. It feels better than thinking I might tie myself to someone for the rest of my life for whom I could scrounge up nothing more than a lukewarm interest.”
