“Hm,” Mrs. Rare-Foure said, “I would have thought you to be prettier, but the papers have greatly exaggerated both your looks and your charm.”
With that awfully rude statement, Amity’s mother swept through the parting crowd like the queen herself and entered their shop. Even Amity stood back to let her pass.
Most of the onlookers had to take a moment to close their shocked mouths. Then, as the crowd dispersed, Amity waved farewell to Delia and followed her mother. A few others, who were not Lady Madeleine’s friends, entered the shop behind her.
As Charlotte tended to the customers, Amity and her mother went into the back room. Instead of being upset, Felicity looked positively radiant when she turned to face her.
“That felt bloody good. What an awful piece of work that one is.” Her mother stripped off her gloves and tossed them on the shelf where they kept them, along with hats, scarves, and extra hatpins.
Despite being worried things were somehow worse, Amity felt nothing but admiration. “You were splendid, Mother. But we may, indeed, rue the day we crossed paths with that particular lady.”
“I cannot believe that colorless fish is the one all the papers have been raving over for weeks.”
“Months, I believe,” Amity said. “You do know she’s the one for whom I’ve been crafting a unique chocolate, by request of the Duke of Pelham, don’t you?”
“That had rather slipped my mind. In any case, I forbid you to do so.”
“What? Mother, no!” Amity’s heart started to pound again. What would the duke think of her if she bowed out now? That she was not dependable, maybe even cowardly.
“I’ve finished the new chocolate, and I’ve just been to see His Grace. He accepted my creation.”
Her mother looked alarmed.
“Do not worry. I had Delia with me,” Amity told her quickly. “I had to tell him we might have a little trouble with his lady friend, and he agreed to speak with her.”
“A little trouble. How do these things happen as soon as I am out of the store? I should never go to visit friends or to a club.”
“Beatrice happens,” Amity murmured softly.
Her mother shook her head. “That girl—”
“Is exactly like you,” Amity finished. “And we are all very glad of it. You two are the backbone of Rare Confectionery. And Charlotte is the heart.”
“And what are you, dear one?” her mother asked, drawing closer, placing gentle hands on her daughter’s shoulders. As they were the same height, they stood eye-to-eye.
“I am certain I do not know what I am,” Amity began, lowering her gaze.
“You are the soul of our shop.”
Startled, Amity felt tears spring to her eyes.
“What’s more,” her mother added, “I will not let you sell your soul by making anything with our name on it for that terrible creature.”
Amity broke free of her mother’s touch. “I gave the duke my word. I would hate to let him down.”
At her mother’s narrowed gaze, Amity blushed and looked away. Felicity Rare-Foure would know if her eldest daughter were hiding a secret tendre for a man with a single look into her eyes. Turning to the cupboard, she drew out a tray of Braysons and touched the tip of her finger to one of the smooth flowers.
“I know they’re a smidgen too cool to taste properly,” she told her mother, keeping her gaze averted, “but do so anyway.”
Her mother took one and ate it, keeping it on her tongue briefly so the flavors could warm and become more discernable.
“The lavender and vanilla are a brilliant combination,” Felicity said. “Does Lady Madeleine wear lavender?”
Amity nodded. Her mother nodded back.
“It does remind me of her, except it’s too nice,” Felicity declared. They grinned at each other.
“Since I have finished creating it, Mother, please let me sell them to the duke. These chocolates are commanding a hefty price. His party is not too many days away, and after, we shall be done with the both of them.” Even though she didn’t want to be done with the man who made her feel all sorts of interesting sensations.
“Regardless, I won’t ever sell these in the store as they will always make me think of her.”
Her mother gave her a hard stare. “So, the Madeleine—”
“The Brayson,” Amity corrected.
“The Brayson,” her mother repeated with distaste, “is for one night only?”
Amity sighed. “Unless the duke wants me to make them for his ... his bride in the future.”
“You don’t sound as if that would please you.”
“No,” Amity admitted, “I guess it wouldn’t delight me. Nevertheless, I will do so if it means Rare Confectionery remains in good standing with the uppermost layer of London’s society.”
Her mother rolled her eyes. “Don’t be worried about that young woman—”
“That young lady, Mother, is an earl’s daughter. You saw how she rounded up her ... her pack of wolves.”
This made Felicity laugh. “Hardly wolves.”
Amity started to laugh too, recalling what her mother had said. “You called them sheep — to their faces.”
“I did, didn’t I?”
“I accused Lady Madeleine of eating broxy,” Amity told her.
Her mother laughed harder. “No wonder she looked so put out.”
“She told those ladies our confections had made her ill.”
Her mother’s good humor died at once. “That’s a foul lie to spread.”
“Which is why I hope the Duke of Pelham will rein her in like a willful horse that needs to be tamed.”
Her mother nodded. “Still, with a lawyer almost in the family, we shall sue her for defamation if need be.”
Not her mother, too! “So litigious,” Amity protested. Besides, it was now somewhat in doubt as to whether Jeremy would be part of their family, but she kept that to herself. There had been enough drama in their lives for one day.
“You had best hope your duke convinces that sour puss to pull in her claws, or I shall speak to Mr. Cole about our rights. And I shall pen a letter to her parents.
Amity went to the stove and wordlessly poured milk into a pan.
“A cup of chocolate, Mother?”
“Of course, dear. What else?”
AS SOON AS LADY MADELEINE and her chaperone climbed into his carriage, Henry smelled her lavender fragrance, and he thought of Amity and her chocolates.
That wasn’t how it was supposed to work. He had it all cocked up and backward. Yet it was the truth. Chocolate, vanilla, orange, and coffee, they all made him think of Amity. Now, even Madeleine and her lavender scent brought Amity to mind, eating chocolates together, laughing in his drawing room.
He had better get the worst of the evening over.
Before he could broach the topic, however, Madeleine said, “Remember the chocolates we had at Lady Peabody’s dinner party?”
It was as if she’d read his thoughts. “Why, yes. In fact, I was hoping to speak with you about Rare Confectionery.”
She frowned. “How strange. I hope you are going to tell me that you think it is a most disagreeable shop run by the most irritating females. If you ever met them, you would agree.”