In another few minutes, the Duke of Pelham escorted the dowager duchess into the drawing room, followed by his sister and her husband. Amity noted how the duke made sure his mother, who seemed awfully young to be widowed, was seated in a comfortable chair before asking if everyone had a drink. When he was assured they did, his eyes scanned the room and briefly found hers causing a frisson of heat to spark through her.
“Let us toast to a pleasant evening,” he said.
“Here, here,” many agreed.
Her gaze unable to leave him, Amity was mesmerized by the duke’s appeal as he moved from guest to guest, perfectly in his element, an excellent host and a devoted son. With the wine flowing into her empty stomach, she even began to relax and think this evening might not be too terrible, until she watched him take his place next to the golden Lady Madeleine by the fireplace. One day soon, he would be her ardent husband.
Undeniably, they looked to be the perfect pair. The duke said something to his ladylove and she smiled radiantly, which caused him to smile in return. They probably had forgotten anyone else was even in the room. A moment later, however, when the duke looked up to bring someone else into the conversation, he caught Amity staring at him and gave her a welcoming nod.
She nodded back, feeling her cheeks warm at being noticed observing him as if he were a specimen at the zoological garden. Averting her gaze quickly, she was grateful when Lord Waverly asked her a question about another shop on Bond Street, and she could speak like a woman of business instead of an ill-mannered guest.
For a few minutes, all went well. She needn’t even have worried about Charlotte, who’d managed to catch the eye of a handsome young man. The discussion coming from their quarter seemed perfectly pitched and appropriate.
And then suddenly, Amity felt him at her side. Hesitantly, she turned to find the duke had left the perfect flame of loveliness to attend the weak flickering of her own feeble light.
“Unlike Icarus, you have escaped unscathed.” These words came from Lord Waverly, making the duke laugh.
Amity knew the story of the boy flying too close to the sun only to spiral to his death and wondered at the duke not taking offense. After all, it inferred Lady Madeleine was a dangerous and poorly conceived goal.
“My best friend always knows how to bring the situation into sharp perspective,” the duke proclaimed. “Is this rogue bothering you, Miss Rare-Foure?”
“Not at all,” she promised. “As I know no one else here, except my sister, I am grateful you had already introduced us.”
The duke glanced past her to Charlotte. “It seems your sister has also found a friend of mine to enchant. Jeffcoat’s his name. He is a good man, without the unfortunate vision issues of Greenley.”
“That’s good to know, my lord.”
Lord Waverly and the duke seemed to cough in unison, and Amity hoped they weren’t making fun of her for she could not imagine what she had done wrong.
“I hope you enjoy yourself this evening,” the duke continued. “I have asked Waverly here to escort you in to dinner. I shall enlist Lord Jeffcoat to attend your sister.” With a friendly nod, he was gone.
“Good man, Pelham,” Lord Waverly said. “Not a less stuffy duke could one hope to find.”
“The dowager seems to have lost her husband very young,” Amity observed, thinking of the previous Duke of Pelham, who’d passed barely two years earlier.
“True,” he said. “It was unexpected, to say the least. I believe it was pneumonia or pleurisy. Pelham barely made it home from the Continent to bid his beloved father a final farewell, and he found himself appointed as the new duke the very next day.”
“How awful!” Amity proclaimed, glancing over to where he was leaning over his mother speaking quietly.
Waverly continued, “I hope the dowager likes Lady Madeleine and vice versa, for Pelham will want to look after his mother always.”
Amity considered the tableau for a moment. “Hopefully, Her Grace will not follow the queen’s example and go into unending mourning. To be practical, the dowager duchess might have many years ahead of her.”
“Agreed,” Lord Waverly said as the butler called them to dinner.
As it turned out, Amity found herself at the duke’s end of the table, with him at its head and her seated directly across from Lady Madeleine, who was already treating her to an expression of disapproval. Amity couldn’t imagine why the seating had been arranged thusly, but it was going to be a long evening.
At least Lord Waverly was to her left. Her sister ended up on the other side of the table with Lord Jeffcoat between Charlotte and Lady Madeleine. All the rest of the guests stretched down the table, probably eighteen or so, including the duke’s sister, with the dowager at the other end.
As the soup course was served, the duke thanked them all for coming, and the conversation died down for a few minutes while they began to eat. Amity was very careful when reaching for her wine glass, spying the duke watching her. When she glanced directly at him, he winked, which caused heat to flow down through her entire body.
Looking straight ahead again, she received a frosty glare from Lady Madeleine and vowed to keep her attention on her dinner partner to her left. Lord Waverly was an excellent companion, and the meal passed quickly although Amity guessed it must have been about two hours.
The duke spoke to Lady Madeleine through much of it while occasionally someone farther down the table called his name, causing a brief conversation to be called back and forth. And Lady Madeleine joined in when addressed, also looking perfectly attentive and relaxed as she spoke with the man on her right, Charlotte’s dining companion.
Amity could not find fault with the duke’s ladylove, much as she wanted to. Lady Madeleine was decidedly at home at his table, displaying all the right signs of conviviality. It seemed she would make a good duchess, after all.
As if she were any judge of such things!
As the courses progressed — with the Pelham’s cook displaying a mastery of each dish — Amity noticed the duke became quieter, spending more time looking thoughtful. When they were served the entremets sucré, she thought he might even be starting to appear a little anxious.
Perhaps he was simply digesting his meal in silence, she thought. More likely, he was growing nervous at his public proposal.
Glancing at Charlotte as they viewed the multiple dessert dishes spread out in front of them with enough staff ready to give each guest a slice or a scoop of whatever they wished. There was absolutely nothing chocolate, Amity noted with satisfaction. Her confections would not have to compete with anything there. While she had no doubt any other chocolate served would have been inferior, it was preferable not to have the taste of it already on the guests’ tongues.
As the dinner drew to a close, Amity gripped the napkin in her lap, prepared for the duke to order her confections be brought out. He would stand, most likely, and make his proposal at the table, possibly following an effusive speech as to the many delights of Lady Madeleine.
He merely rose from his seat and said, “Shall we move to a more comfortable setting? I hope the gentlemen here tonight will not be offended if I beg off a separation of the sexes for cigars and brandy. Perhaps we shall get to that later, but for now, I would like to keep our merry gathering together. Come this way.”