“And this is my sister, Mrs. Carson. She makes the toffee.”
“Truly, miss?” he said, shaking her hand. “I haven’t tasted yours, but toffee is an excellent sweet.”
Charlotte hoped Beatrice wouldn’t laugh at the boy and his serious ways.
“Thank you, Mr. Percy,” she said. “I wholeheartedly agree.”
“Please, missus, call me Edward.”
“All right. First of all, let’s remedy your terrible lack of experience. Charlotte, please,” she said, holding out her hand. “A piece of plain toffee.”
She handed her sister a piece on a square of paper, which Beatrice held in front of the boy. “Take it, suck it a minute, don’t try to bite it right away. Then tell me what you think, Edward. I can trust you to tell me the truth, I’m sure of it.
“Yes, missus.” He popped in the whole piece and worked it around his mouth. He closed his eyes and sucked hard, then worked it some more, before tucking it into his cheek.
“It’s delicious, missus. The best toffee I’ve ever had.”
“It’s the treacle,” Beatrice said, not able to keep from gloating. “If you are a cautious sort of person, then I will teach you how to create it.” She paused. “But make no mistake, it is a dangerous business, making toffee.” She winked at Charlotte. “Like working with molten fire. One needs the constitution of a dragon-slayer to make toffee.”
“Really, missus?” Edward said in a thin voice. Then he coughed and said more firmly, “I would like to try.”
“We shall see.” Beatrice passed him by, ruffling his hair as she made her way into the back.
“You’ve tasted both my sisters’ confectionery, but not yet mine,” Charlotte said. “Would you like to try marzipan?”
He nodded, and she fetched a sculpted leaf, waiting until he’d swallowed the last of Bea’s toffee.
“Marzipan, some call itmarchpane, is made from ground almonds, and honestly, it’s not to everyone’s taste. I shan’t be at all offended if you don’t like it.” With that, she handed him the leaf.
“It’s cleverly done, miss,” he said, examining her artistry. “It looks almost real.” With that, he popped it in his mouth, worked it around on his tongue and swallowed.
“It’s good,” he said.
“But not as good as chocolate or toffee,” she amended.
His cheeks turned pink.
She laughed. “It’s fine. Most of the customers who adore it are older than you. I can make it in a variety of ways, and I can bake it, too. Sometimes Amity puts it inside her chocolate, and sometimes I put her chocolate inside my marzipan.”
He took it all in with thoughtful eyes. “It tasted a bit like a flower, miss.”
“That leaf had a little rose-water in it, a recipe from the late-sixteenth century, if you can believe it. Now, let’s see if Mrs. Rare-Foure will allow you to make our deliveries today.”
She sent Edward to the back room to speak with her mother, but, as soon as she was alone again, Lionel’s face popped into her thoughts. Her heart squeezed with pain.Was he even then in sunny France, planning his grand art tour?They’d had a discussion about the museums on the Continent once, since her family had been abroad thrice. However, as the Evans never had, Lionel had been envious, she recalled, and a little sullen with her. She’d never brought it up again.
Suddenly, a tap on the door snagged her attention. Looking up, she was surprised to see Lord Jeffcoat’s visage pressed against the glass.
“Robin Hood,” she muttered, going around the counter to let him in.
Chapter Three
Charles was pleased to see Miss Rare-Foure in the front of the shop. He knew he was there early. The streets were practically deserted except for delivery men and the gangs of sweepers. And he had planned on simply walking by if he hadn’t seen her.
But as if fate were assisting his pursuit, Miss Charlotte was not only there, she came to the door and opened it.
“Lord Jeffcoat, you cannot possibly want sweets this early,” she said by way of greeting.
She did not accompany this with her usual smile, one he’d thought inviting from the first time they’d met. With her full lips, often bowed, she seemed in a continuous state of happiness, something he’d noticed about her whenever they were near.
