“There’s something else,” she added, wondering if he could guess.
“The chocolate is very sweet, which I know she will love, and there is something rich about it, beyond the floral.”
“Do you wish to guess or shall I tell you?” she asked.
“Tell me,” he commanded.
“Vanilla bean.”
He stared at her. “Miss Rare-Foure, I think you are brilliant.”
She couldn’t help smiling as happiness infused her body. “Thank you, my lord.”
“And do you like it? No, do you love it?” he asked, echoing her words.
She shrugged. “I haven’t tasted it.”
“What?” He evidently found that astonishing.
“I mean, I tasted it while blending, but I haven’t since it cooled and hardened.”
“Then you must.” And he held out the remainder of the piece, right in front of her mouth.
Their gazes locked. “Don’t you think you should eat the rest of it,” she said, “in order to make sure.”
“I will come to the shop again and try more of these, if you like. But I am quite sure.” He nodded at the piece he held, urging her to eat it.
Parting her lips, she allowed him to place it on her tongue. A little too slowly, he withdrew his fingers. She closed her eyes to focus.
First, the unmistakable taste of pure chocolate followed by the burst of lavender-infused sweetness. Very pleasing. Lastly, the subtle woodsy, fruity vanilla became apparent as she swallowed.
“There is a little,” he started to say, “upon your lower lip.”
Her eyes flew open to see him bending closer, and she knew he was going to kiss her, if only to taste the chocolate again. Of course!
Delia coughed. Apparently, her maid was no longer buried in the slim pages of the penny-dreadful.
Lord Pelham drew back quickly. He had seemingly forgotten the existence of anyone else in the room.
He had the grace to look remorseful before he smiled and wiped her lip with his thumb. Astonishingly, he licked it, making her insides coil.
“Even in this small, sticky remnant, I can taste its perfection.”
“Perfection?” Amity echoed.
“For Lady Madeleine, yes. You have done it, Miss Rare-Foure. She will love it! This shall be the Brayson.”
Then, all at once, Amity thought of the prior day’s events and the spell of success was broken. She recalled why they were having their lovely meeting. Not so she could share sweets with this alluring man, but in order to make certain his proposal went as planned.
“It may all be for naught, my lord. I must confess, Lady Madeleine may not accept this gift if she knows it is from my shop.”
“Why would you say that?” he asked, perusing the chocolates, seemingly intent on eating another.
“Because — and I’m terribly sorry to say this — we insulted her yesterday, or rather my sister did, but I may have started it.”
“Started what?” he asked ahead of putting another sweet in his mouth and not looking in the least bit worried.
“A bit of a quarrel. In any case, no matter how it began, Lady Madeleine has threatened to ruin Rare Confectionery, and I am here to beseech you to help us.”
Chapter Fourteen
Henry looked at the talented woman beside him, whose pretty mouth was speaking of trouble, making it no less kissable. A minute ago, he had given in to the temptation — the momentary madness — only to be halted by her maid.
Thank God! He realized the usefulness of a chaperone was to prevent stupidity.
All the same, he would do anything to help Amity. Under no circumstances would he allow her wonderful shop to be put out of business.
Not even at the hands of Lady Madeleine.
“As I said, I thought you had come to demand an apology, which I heartily give to you. But even worse, I thought you might be here to declare you would no longer be my chocolatier. That would have been far more difficult to deal with than whatever the situation is with Lady Madeleine,” he told her. “Let me get us something to drink first, and after you can tell me everything. You would like tea, I suppose.”
“Oh, please, my lord, don’t go to any trouble.”
“I assure you, unlike yourself, I’m not heading down into the kitchens to put on the kettle.” Not that he didn’t like that about her. There was something very attractive about a woman who could handle herself at the cookstove, which naturally, he never saw happen among his own class.
Getting up to ring the bell, he told her, “You have less than a minute before my butler will arrive to ask what we want.”
“Mostly, I drink chocolate.”
“Surely, not all day long,” he said.
She shrugged, which he took to mean she actually did.
“I doubt we have the superior drinking chocolate you’re used to.”
She hesitated, then seemed to be making a confession. “If I don’t have time to shave and melt chocolate into milk, I will use cocoa. And you are correct. I am quite fastidious about which one I drink. For instance, I won’t drink anything like Iceland Moss.” Amity shuddered in a fashion that made him want to laugh at her dire seriousness over cocoa, but he refrained out of good manners.
“Nor will I drink Pearl Cocoa,” she continued. “It has arrowroot added to absorb some of the oil in the cocoa, which should have already been pressed out. I won’t touch Rowntree’s on principal. I have it on reliable authority that company used spies and subterfuge to learn secrets of the superior cocoa producers like Cadbury. Of course, there’s Sloane’s and Taylor’s and a hundred other manufacturers of varying purity—”
“Miss Rare-Foure,” he interrupted her.
Warming to her topic, she hardly seemed to notice, even though his butler had now arrived to determine their wishes.
“I have always preferred Cadbury’s Cocoa Essence,” she said, this time, addressing his butler as well, as if Mr. Giles was a fellow cocoa connoisseur. “It is very pure. Do you have that? Or Cacao Barry? It costs more as it is made in France from African beans. Though I suppose the additional cost would mean nothing to you, my lord.” She bit her lower lip delightfully and then admitted, “I also enjoy a mug of saloop.”
Henry grinned. “Strange you should say that. I know it’s not at all remotely fashionable, but so do I. Or, at least, I did. When I was a boy, we had a cook who made it just so. She was very particular, as are you, when it came to her flavors. I haven’t had it since I was in short pants. Truthfully, I don’t even know what it was made from?”
“Orchid roots. I’ll make you a cup sometime,” Amity promised him. “I get a tin of the superior Turkish salep powder from the supplier of our best lokum, which some are starting to call Lumps of Turkish Delight.”
He liked the notion she would do something special for him, separate from her business and nothing to do with Lady Madeleine. Solely for him. “Thank you.”
He stared at her, and she stared back, smiling. Something about his chocolatier made it difficult for him to catch his breath sometimes. If he didn’t know better, he would say he was smitten.
“Coffee, Mr. Giles, for two,” Henry told his butler.