Free Enchanting Pleasures by Eloisa James Page B

this, sweetheart.”
Peter frowned. To his mind Gabby was the one who should be avoiding sugared things. It could just be the dress, of course, but she looked a wee bit plumper than was advisable, given the French style of clothing that was popular in London. Still, that was a topic he could bring up in private.
Gabby turned back to him, delicately licking her lower lip. Peter’s frown darkened.
And Quill took one look at Gabby and got up abruptly, leaving the room without making a proper farewell. If even his brother noticed Gabby’s uncivilized manners, it demonstrated that she truly was in need of correction.
“Is Madame Carême a friend of yours?”
“What?” For a moment Peter didn’t follow Gabby’s question.
“Madame Carême. You said we would visit her after breakfast.”
“No. Madame Carême is a mantua-maker, a modiste , as they call them in France. She is considered the best in London. We must obtain a wardrobe for you at the earliest possible moment, so I have requested an appointment for a fitting.”
“Oh, that’s not a problem,” Gabby replied comfortably. “We had twenty of these white gowns made up in India. I had them copied from a brand-new issue of Le Beau Monde . That’s a magazine that discusses fashion,” she explained.
“I am more than aware of Le Beau Monde,” Peter said. He himself had been featured in its pages more than once. “However, that design does not suit you.”
“It doesn’t?” Gabby felt a tugging at her sleeve and looked down into Phoebe’s imploring eyes. Suddenly she remembered how much misery Phoebe’s short skirts were causing her.
“All right,” she agreed. “May Phoebe accompany us to Madame Carême’s establishment? Perhaps we shall both order some new garments.”
Peter agreed. He rather liked Phoebe. She was a child who seemed to know her place, and although she should, by all rights, be in the schoolroom, she was handling the unexpected pleasure of eating with adults with composure. He noted with approval that she had had several bites of blackberry jelly and then put her toast to the side. A lady is never too young to pay attention to her figure. Gabby, on the other hand, seemed to be eating her third or fourth piece of toast.
He couldn’t resist. “Do you think it advisable to eat quite so much jellied toast?” He himself had had a spare breakfast, merely a cup of tea and a slice or two of a late apple. Quill, of course, ate like a peasant. He always had. Peter delicately added a trifle more sugar to his tea, taking care not to tinkle the spoon against the bone china of his cup.
Gabby looked at the toast in her hand with surprise and then put it to the side. “Thank you for the advice,” she said, smiling at him.
Well, at least she’s amenable, Peter thought. Perhaps he would be able to transform her. Like a work of art.
“I should never have known that blackberry jelly makes one ill if one eats too much,” Gabby continued. “Does it give you a stomachache or”—she paused—“a different sort of problem?”
Peter choked on his tea. He cast a quick look at the footman, but Phillip’s face was carefully schooled to utter calm. Peter decided not to answer that particular question.
“If you are quite finished, I shall order the carriage,” he said, as his gaze deliberately slid over her head.
Gabby chewed on her lip. Was it just her imagination, or did both Dewland brothers have conversational impediments? Then her brow cleared. It was likely that blackberry jelly caused a digestive problem. One could not imagine Peter uttering an indelicacy.
She carefully folded her napkin and placed it on the table.

G ABBY’S INTRODUCTION TO the establishment of Madame Carême was a shock to everyone concerned. As a stiffrumped butler ushered them into a pale golden-colored audience chamber, Madame Carême herself appeared from an inner door and effusively greeted Peter. In fact, they seemed to be close friends, and within seconds Peter was lavishly