“Perish the thought,” he said.
“You’re teasing, but consider our reputation. If Her Majesty withdrew her favor, our sales from the hundreds of nobility in Mayfair would plummet.”
“Understood.” He shouldn’t take anything she said regarding confectionery lightly, as it was her family’s livelihood. “You managed to get it sorted out?”
“I did. Young Edward, you remember my worker? He had made toffee with my sister, and rather thoughtlessly, she’d let him put it out for sale. Likewise, he went to my other sister’s to have chocolate training, and when he returned a few days ago with boxes of sweets, I didn’t realize he’d made the lion’s share of them. Nothing dreadful, mind you, but not up to our standards. Worse, I couldn’t tell what was what.” She shook her head in wonder.
“After all, you cannot sell something if you don’t know what it is, and how could I know without tasting each chocolate?” she asked, raising her hands in a gesture of helpless dismay.
He shook his head, fascinated by her. “You couldn’t.”
“And I could hardly bite into each one to discover its secrets.”
Watching her perfect mouth discussing biting and secrets made his own abruptly go dry.
“No, of course you couldn’t,” he agreed. “I doubt anyone would buy chocolates you’d already bitten into.” Except him. Charles would lick one right off her lips if he could.
What had got into him?He was well and truly captivated, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling so struck with interest before.
She explained how she’d sold them as surprises, which seemed like a smartly creative solution to her bewildering problem.
“Pity you had to drop the price,” he said.
“It was a pity,” she agreed. “Especially with adding an entire floor to the shop. I need to keep the revenue coming in.”
He watched the maid startle and then slowly turn to her.
“Excuse me, miss. Did you say you’d added a floor?”
“Yes, Delia. I am expanding Rare Confectionery.”
The middle-aged servant paled. “Without your mother here? She’s ever so particular, as you know.”
Charlotte nodded but looked undaunted. “I am certain she’ll be pleased.”
“Very well, miss.” But the woman looked doubtful nonetheless.
Charles felt a frisson of unease. It did seem like a large step to take, especially without her parents’ permission.
“Is it afait accompli?”
“It is.” Her tone became high pitched with excitement. “Tomorrow, I shall start looking for a carpenter to build a staircase inside our shop.”
“If you need any assistance,” he offered, although he knew nothing about builders or securing a carpenter. But he assumed neither did she.
“If you would like to come by the confectionery tomorrow after closing, I’ll show you the upstairs.” She grinned like a fiend. “Mr. Richardson gave me the key.”
Again, Delia turned to her. “Shall I arrive then, too?”
Charlotte frowned. “Whyever for?” Then she slanted her maid a smile. “Oh, I see. My reputation again is in extreme danger from Lord Jeffcoat,” she teased.
Charles wondered at her innocence, and in someone of her years, too! It was a miracle no man had managed to get her alone during the Season the prior year, in an alcove or an empty gazebo or even behind a garden hedge. Or maybe someone had!
“I believe Beatrice will be there, Delia, and Edward, too,” Charlotte promised. “Will they suffice?”
The maid hesitated, her glance flickering over to Charles. “Yes, miss.”
For his part, he was relieved Charlotte had those around her who loved her, but he wanted to change the topic of their conversation, since it was all about how to protect her from the likes of him, as if she were a lamb and he, a slobbering wolf.
