“Indeed,” the newlywed duchess agreed, her cheeks pinkening at discussion of her husband. Then she looked Greer over with a discerning eye. “He, too, once thought he needed a titled lady to be his wife.”
Greer hoped they didn’t think less of him for his goal. “I am glad you disabused him of that notion, my lady.”
“No, no, no,” Beatrice said. “That’s your first error. She is not to be addressed as anything other thanYour Graceormy lady duchess.”
“You can also call me simply ‘Duchess.’ For example, if I’m on one side of the room, and you want me to ... I don’t know ... to bring you over a glass of wine, then you should say, ‘Duchess, will you bring me a glass of wine?’”
“That’s ridiculous!” Miss Charlotte exclaimed. “He would never askyouto bring him a glass of wine. You have oodles of servants now, don’t you?”
They all laughed again.
“Your sister is quite right, Duchess,” Greer agreed. “I fear if I yelled out ‘Duchess,’ and asked you to bring me anything at all, your husband would give me a blinker in short order.”
Three lovely Rare-Foure sisters stared at him uncomprehendingly.
“A blinker,” he repeated. “A black eye, yes?”
“Oh, my husband is not the type to resort to fisticuffs.” The shop bell tinkled and customers entered, causing the youngest sister to turn away to serve them.
“We must get back to making sweets,” the duchess declared. “Especially me. The shop is woefully low on chocolates. Now, don’t forget. Come to my home for dinner, followed by lessons. Will you two come together?” She turned to Beatrice, who hesitated.
“I shall make my own way there,” Greer insisted, not wanting any of them to get the wrong idea by him ‘escorting’ her.
“Very well. Seven o’clock at No. 35 St. James’s Place, off St. James’s Street. Good day, Mr. Carson.”
With that dismissal, which seemed quite duchess-like, she turned and disappeared through the blue velvet curtain.
“I must get back to toffee-making, too,” Beatrice said, even though she hesitated, and he thought she had something else to say.
“I am so grateful for your help, Miss Rare-Foure,” he told her. “I would still be wandering the streets—”
“Looking for boiled sweets,” she added.
“And not getting any closer to my goal.”
She gave him a genuine smile, which transformed her visage from pleasingly pretty to downright angelic before his eyes.
Careful, he warned himself. They were to be friends and nothing more.
“I, too, want to offer my gratitude,” she said. “It always seemed a frivolous imposition upon my parents to invest in a Season’s worth of gowns, not to mention any tickets we must purchase. You’ve made it possible while also providing me with an escort. We shall still need a chaperone, probably my mother, except when at my sister’s home.”
Suddenly, Greer’s fingers itched to pick her up and twirl her around, he felt so pleased. “It seems hardly any time since I first wandered in here, and now, we’re shinning around to your sister’s tonight.”
By the way she wrinkled her forehead, he knew he’d used a term she didn’t understand.
“I mean,” he added, “we’re going along like a team of six horses, starting tonight.”
Her frown cleared and she nodded. “Until tonight, then.”
