“Dear God! Don’t let my sister ever hear you say that.”
“No, I wouldn’t dream of it.” Then suddenly, he froze.
“Pelham!” exclaimed a well-dressed man who came to a stop in front of them.
“Waverly,” the duke returned with less enthusiasm, sounding strangely cautious.
They shook hands while the other man’s glance came to rest on Amity, a questioning look upon his face.
“Miss Rare-Foure,” the duke said, “This is the Viscount Waverly.”
She curtsied.
“Waverly, this is Miss Rare-Foure, whose family owns Rare Confectionery.”
The viscount inclined his head to her. “I believe you mentioned her before,” he remarked, his eyes dancing with merriment, raising Amity’s curiosity.
The Duke of Pelham had mentioned her to his friend?
“Yet you failed to give an accurate account of her loveliness,” Lord Waverly added.
Even knowing the man was being a shameless flatterer, Amity felt her cheeks warm.
“Waverly,” the duke warned, “don’t try your charm upon Miss Rare-Foure. She has a better head on her shoulder than to fall for your nonsense.”
Did he really think effusive words about her appearance to be nonsense?
“Careful, Pelham,” the viscount said. “By the frown upon her face, you may have insulted Miss Rare-Foure. There is nothing nonsensical about her beauty.”
Hating how this man had read her expression so easily, she suddenly spoke up. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I must get back to my shop. I have work to do this afternoon.”
“Let me walk you back,” the duke offered.
“No, thank you. As I said, I have work to do, and I cannot be entertaining you at the same time.” It sounded unkind, but she was suddenly feeling crabby. “I am not a lady of leisure, you understand.”
The duke’s eyes widened, and his friend coughed behind his glove, which she suspected was to hide his laughter. The other meaning for the term struck her a second later — as the very trollop her mother had spoken of.
“Good day, my lords.” With her cheeks flaming scarlet, she snatched her packages from the duke’s hands, curtsied to them both, and hurried away. Thankfully, he didn’t come after her.
HENRY TURNED BACK TO his friend who was openly laughing now Miss Rare-Foure had dashed off in a state of mortification. That hadn’t gone well.
“Why do I think that was all your fault?” Henry asked. “And stop your insipid braying, dammit.”
“I say, she’s a feisty thing, isn’t she?” Daniel Waverly noted. “Putting you in your place about keeping her from her work and making mention of the offensive class of lightskirts. Lady of leisure, indeed.” He began to chuckle again.
“She didn’t intend to,” Henry said, feeling irritated. “Anyway, what did you mean with your flattery and telling her I’d spoken of her to you. You embarrassed her.”
“You should have joined in and praised her. Every woman in London is touchy about her looks since Lady Madeleine made her debut. But I daresay I would enjoy the sweetness of your chocolatier, plus the benefits.”
“Are you trying to make me defend her honor and punch your beak?”
Waverly shook his head. “I meant only the benefit of an unlimited supply of quality chocolate. I’ve had the pleasure of a sweet from Rare Confectionery. I don’t know what you thought I meant, but I believe you are getting caught up in the romantic notion of being with a shopkeeper’s daughter.”
They had started walking in the opposite direction to which the chocolatier had dashed off.
“She is not a shopkeeper’s daughter. Well, I suppose technically she is, but she’s much more than that,” Henry insisted. “She’s a chemist and an artist and a chef — all for confectionery. Moreover, she’s very smart and amusing. In short, she’s good company.”
“You didn’t defend yourself against my claim you are thinking romantically about her.”
Henry should have dissuaded him of that at once. “Because it’s too preposterous to dignify with a remark.”
“Of course,” his friend said.
Henry rolled his eyes. Waverly would say anything to get him to step aside from his pursuit of Lady Madeleine. On the first night she’d appeared in a ballroom, it was Waverly who had pointed her out and wondered aloud who the beautiful creature could be.
When Waverly found out she was an earl’s daughter, he’d liked her even more. Yet Henry outranked him and, thus, would triumph, in all likelihood, if there had been any competition among suitors. There hadn’t been. They’d all stepped aside to allow his pursuit, and he’d become the sole wooer, as it were.
He sighed. It seemed a little mercenary when he considered it. He believed he had spent more time talking to Miss Rare-Foure than he had to Lady Madeleine. He would have to remedy that in the near future.
“So, Pelham,” came Waverly’s amused voice, “are you truly only sampling Rare chocolate, or do you intend to sample the chocolatier as well?”
Chapter Seven
Henry couldn’t very well clobber Waverly in the middle of Bond Street although he was sorely tempted. Instead, he kept walking and thought the best defense of Miss Rare-Foure’s reputation was to pretend his friend must be joking.
“Amusing, Waverly. My sights, as you are well aware, are set firmly upon Lady Madeleine. Are you hoping to push me aside and derail my suit with ridiculous innuendo to clear the field for your own pursuit of Brayson’s daughter?”
Waverly laughed. “Maybe. But Miss Rare-Foure is certainly pretty enough for a tumble.”
Outrage and an unexpectedly strong desire to protect her arose in Henry.
“She is pretty enough and also decent and smart enough to warrant a husband who cherishes her. Taking a tumble with a shopkeeper’s daughter is rather last decade, don’t you think, Waverly?”
His friend shrugged. “I suppose. Look at Lord Langley marrying that nobody from America instead of merely bedding her.”
“A nobody with a fortune,” Henry pointed out, glad they were back to idle chatter about other people and not Miss Rare-Foure. In truth, he’d already spent too much time thinking about her, and didn’t need to spend more time going over her virtues with his friends.
He had planned his marital path, and it was a beneficial one to both parties. He would get a beautiful wife with a good-sized dowry who was raised to make a fine hostess. Privately, he hoped Madeleine would be as interesting and friendly, as smart and joyful, and as pleasant to be around as Miss Rare-Foure. He had no reason to believe that when they got to know each other that wouldn’t be the case.
“Where are we going?” Waverly asked.
“Haven’t the foggiest,” Henry told him, and they laughed. “Are you attending the dinner party at Lady Peabody’s tonight?”
“Absolutely not. They tried to partner me with a last-season debutante, Miss Someone or Other. Honestly, it doesn’t matter. Once you arrive with Lady Madeleine, no one will look at any other female.”
“Hm,” Henry said, for he was thinking how nice it would be to escort Miss Rare-Foure somewhere special. He wanted to know what she thought about everything, including the food and the other guests. He wanted to take her to Gunter’s, a fashionable eatery in Mayfair on Berkeley Square, and taste ices and sorbets with her. Would she like the saffron mousse or the maple cream ice?