Chapter Seven
E arly afternoon the next day, Boudicca sat in the drawing room ready and waiting for the duke. It couldn’t be helped. She was actually…could she admit it…excited for the outing. Oh, not because of the duke himself per se. More so, she was anticipating her little ploy for the day. Her fingers were restless, smoothing her skirts for the fifteenth time. Make that fourteen and a half, she refused to let her nerves get the best of her, so she stopped mid-smoothing halfway down her thighs. There was nothing to smooth anyway.
But the anticipation was wreaking havoc on her calves. She couldn’t stop her heels from bouncing on the ground. Up and down and up and down. This was a perfect way to lose weight, should one want to shed a stone or two.
Finally, the knock on the door came. The butler was swinging open the door and Boudicca was at his side.
“Thank you, Arnolds. I’ll take it from here.”
Before the duke could even open his mouth to utter the expected morning salutation, Boudicca grabbed his arm. “No time to dally.” Though no dallying was being done.
“I wouldn’t imagine dallying with you.” She could feel his eyes boring into the side of her head while she pondered the meaning behind what he had just said.
Choosing to give him the benefit of the doubt, though not entirely sure why, she replied, “Wonderful. Then we won’t waste any time.”
“I have to ask. Is your appetite for ices always this strong?”
He couldn’t have asked a better question to set her up for her scheme if she had provided the question for him. With a wide grin on her face, not plastered at all, quite natural in fact, she simply said, “Always.”
He chuckled as he helped her up into the carriage.
It was a short ride to Gunter’s at Berkley Square and an even shorter wait to put in their order. It was the moment Boudicca was most looking forward to. It was the moment she had lost sleep over the previous night. And it was the moment in which she hoped to finally shake the duke from her hem.
They were sitting at their round table with a small flower arrangement between them. A lace tablecloth lay atop cream linen with a cloth napkin.
It was all quite lovely and proper, so when the confectioner asked, “Which flavor would you like, my lady?”
It was glaringly improper for Boudicca to reply, “All of them.”
Taken aback, the man prompted, “We have white coffee, lavender, elderflower, brown bread, pistachio, parmesan, coriander, cinnamon, and artichoke.”
“Sounds delicious.” She smiled up at the balding man who now had a very curious look on his face.
He darted a glance at the duke. Then back to her. Then back at the duke. After deciding to land back on her, because really, he wanted a clear answer, he asked again, “Which one?”
“All of them, thank you.” She dropped her head, mostly to prevent herself from releasing the chuckle that was lodged in her throat.
A throat cleared. “But which—
The duke interrupted. “All eight will do.”
“There are nine.”
“Even better,” the duke bandied. “Bring us all nine flavors of ice.”
Her head still bowed, she couldn’t observe his reaction.
“I see you weren’t misleading me when you attempted to prepare me regarding your appetite for ices.”
Finally, she looked up. She knew a smirk was troubling the corner of her mouth, but she played it off. “I do love a good treat.” She felt a little twinge of guilt knowing the exorbitant cost of the desserts and knowing full well that they wouldn’t eat them all, but she pushed it aside. “And since I don’t frequent Gunter’s often enough, I thought it would be best to maximize my time here.”
“They’re all for you, then?”
“Of course, you thought I’d share?”
“I…”
She couldn’t hold in the chuckle. “Of course, I’ll allow you a couple of bites.”
“A couple of bites or a couple of bowls?”
“We shall see,” she said archly. “I do hope at least one of them comes in the shape of a bird. Preferably a hummingbird. I just love their dag—darling beaks.” She almost said that she loved their dagger-like beaks.
“The last time I was here I received my chocolate ice in the shape of a lion.”
“You say that with some pride,” she said slyly. “Do you think that they match the animals to the patrons, Your Grace?” Boudicca cast a furtive glance around the room, taking note of anyone with a freshly served ice in front of them.
“Just Wesley.”
“Where is he seated?”
“No,” he chuckled, “you can simply call me Wesley now. May I call you Boudicca?”
The distraction to keep her eyes roaming the room hopefully hid a small blush crawling up her neck. It felt too intimate to call him Wesley, and to allow him to call her by her Christian name. But something inside her revolted against her pride and charged toward familiarity. It would be nice to be on a first name basis with the duke—Wesley. The name meandered through her mind, and her lips puckered softly at the thought of sounding it out.
“Yes, that’s fine,” she quipped. To regain her equilibrium, she focused on something shallow, “What about my question, though?”
“Ah…let me see,” Wesley leaned forward unnecessarily, arms on the table, hands closer to her own. She dare not move for fear of advancing rather than retreating. There was a magnetism about him. Something she wanted to understand. It was his ulterior motives, she kept telling herself. But his scent of sandalwood wafting over her blurred her thoughts.
“Well, unless you know something about our dear old, wrinkly Lord Grimsley that I don’t, I’d say the ices do not reflect the customer.”
Boudicca grew giddy at the game they had started to play. “Oh really? Do tell, what shape is before him?”
“I cannot say. You must take a look for yourself.” He grinned.
“I can’t look now. He’ll know we’re talking about him.” How she wanted to turn her head and look, but she also didn’t want to embarrass the kind man.
“You can look. No one’s watching us.”
“I can’t,” she almost squealed, feeling the embarrassment for herself.
But then he dropped the gauntlet. “I dare you.”
She just stared at him.
Did he know about her sisters and their dares? How had he found out? The only people to know of the dare were the four sisters. Surely, they hadn’t been overheard. And without question, none of the four would have let their secret dare slip. Oh, how mortified she would be if Wesley found out about the dare.
As she studied his face, there was no guile. It was just a silly tease. But one she was not going to pass up.
She tilted her body forward and whispered, “All right. I’ll look.” Dropping her shoulder, she peered behind her at Lord Grimsley’s table. There in front of the hunched over old man with a round face and no hair was the shape of his ice: a wolf.
She casually turned her head back to Wesley and gave him a full smile. “I dare say you are correct. The shape is arbitrary.”
And just as she finished saying that, nine shapes were brought to their table. Among the nine, a bird was placed in front of Wesley. He pushed it toward her.
“I believe these are yours to distribute as you see fit.”
She passed him a spoon. “Let’s just enjoy them all together.” With that, they dug into the treats, both grinning like small children.
“You seem to have a favorite,” Boudicca said, motioning to the white coffee.
“Really? How can you tell?”
“Well, the white coffee used to be in the middle of the table, and for the past few minutes your spoon has hovered sentry over it.”
Wesley belted a short laugh. “I’ve been caught.” He took another bite. “It’s sublime. I can’t believe I’ve never had it before. That may have something to do with the fact that I only ever get one flavor when I visit Gunter’s.” After one more spoonful, he slid it back to the middle of the table. “Here, have some.”
“It is delicious. Thank you, but it’s all yours. My favorite is the pistachio.”
After a few more bites, a shadow fell on the table.
“Wesley, good to see you.” The deep voice held an almost mocking tone. Or perhaps it was more amused. They did have nine ices in front of them.
Wesley looked up slowly. “Samuel. Didn’t know you would be here today.”
He returned in jest, “Didn’t get my weekly schedule again, did you?”
“Probably tucked away under my to-be-read files.”
Samuel grinned. “Did you have lunch today?”
“Yes. Already come and gone just like every other day.”
“I only ask because…” he swept his hand over the table.
Boudicca held her breath. She didn’t know what she expected Wesley to say. He was a duke, so he would likely say something appropriate. Then again, it was a close friend that had issued the light challenge. Would he be the duke or the friend at this moment? Would transparency or propriety win out? He had options for what to say. The lady loves ices. We were hungry. Gotta try ‘em all. They’re not mine. She knew it was silly to have ordered all nine flavors, but she wasn’t quite sure how silly it was.
But he just raised his spoon, saying, “This is for all those evenings when my mother limited us to only one flavor.”
Samuel chuckled, tipped his head, and walked away.
It was a little bit adorable how Wesley had toasted her choice for all nine ices.
“Was your mother cruel or kind to limit your treats?” she found herself asking, wanting to know him just a little bit more.
“Always kind.” He stuck his spoon into the white coffee hummingbird. “She was a loving mother. I have no complaints out of the ordinary.”
“Just the ordinary complaints then. That consists of…?”
“Typical tantrum-worthy decisions. One flavor of ice,” he nodded to the plates, “early bedtimes, no playing with weapons in the house.” He laughed. “All wise decisions. What is your mother like?”
“She’s passed on now.”
“I’m sorry.”
Boudicca could feel a sting of tears at her eyes, but she marshaled her emotions. “It was a few years ago now. It’s all right.” But he reached out to touch her hand anyway. It was…about the least he could do, especially publicly. But it’s not as if she wanted him to do more. And it wasn’t as if she were baring her soul. “It’s fine.” She forced her voice to perk up. “She was a wonderful mother. Sounds…similar to yours.” Similar, but not quite the same. They had played with weapons inside. Many of them, in fact. But, she wasn’t going to share that yet.
“Well, to good mothers then.” He raised his spoon again. “May we appreciate their rules when they knew best and break them when we think we know better.”
She chuckled as she lifted her full spoon in the air. “To mothers,” she murmured.
It was at that moment that they both noticed Lord Grimsley making his exit. Just as the old man passed their table, they overheard him say to his companion, “Full moon tonight, isn’t it?”
And then they buckled in laughter.