Chapter Ten
Breaking apart as ifthey were literally on fire, Beatrice put her finger to her lips, making sure Mr. Carson said not a word. She knew there was a reason she didn’t like customers!
His lovely blue-gray eyes were wide, probably just like hers, and she could tell he realized the perilousness of their situation. They should never have gone in the back, not even to drink tea. She’d known that, and yet she’d willingly flirted with disaster.
Looking down at her dress, making sure her apron was still straight, she dashed out of the curtained back.
***
“GOOD DAY.” GREER HEARDBeatrice greet the customer, sounding far cheerier than her usual self.
He didn’t move an inch, didn’t dare make even the smallest sound.
“What can I get you?” she said, sounding a little rushed.
“I’m not certain as yet,” came a male reply, and Greer could imagine that response nettling the toffee-maker.
“I heard you make excellent confectionery, and thus, here I am, Lord Dunlop, at your service.”
“No, my lord, I am atyourservice,” she intoned, and he knew what that cost her. Any man who wandered into a sweet shop and had to promote his title was probably a stuffed shirt of great magnitude.
“Yes, naturally,” the man replied.
“We have many fine chocolates, some flavored, some not. We have toffee with nuts and without, smothered in chocolate and plain. And we have marzipan in many shapes and sizes.”
Greer could imagine her pointing out each shelf of confections to the lord.
“I can put a smaller quantity in a bag, or if you prefer a greater amount, then we have pretty tins.”
“You are a helpful girl, aren’t you?” he said.
This engendered no audible remark, so Beatrice must be simply staring at the man, hopefully smiling not scowling.
After another moment, the customer added, “You do have pretty tins, indeed.”
Wait, what?Greer thought the man’s voice had taken on a distinctly lascivious tone.
However, in a normal voice, Beatrice asked, “Would you care to sample something, my lord?”
The man chuckled. “Definitely. How much will it cost me?”
The hair on the back of Greer’s neck stood up.
“Samples are complimentary, my lord. Perhaps a chocolate?”
