Free The Chocolate Debutante by M. C. Beaton

Harriet’s attention was being engaged by Lord Dangerfield, for Susan rudely pointed at the centerpiece with her fork.
     
    Charles Courtney laughed. “I have never known the Trowbridges to serve any of their famous centerpieces. It is my belief that they do not like to ruin it. It is there only for show.”
     
    Susan pouted. “I want some.”
     
    Charles blushed. He signaled to a footman and whispered, “The young lady wishes some of the centerpiece.”
     
    The footman bowed and moved away. Susan gave Charles such a radiant smile that he felt he could die for her. But when the footman returned and murmured that the centerpiece was only for show, Charles felt miserable. “I am afraid that’s that,” he said to Susan. “I am so sorry.”
     
    “
I
think it’s silly,” said Susan moodily. “It’s all made of sweet things, and what’s the point of it if it cannot be eaten? Why does she not just have it made of plaster of Paris?”
     
    “I do not know,” said Charles miserably, wishing he had the courage to stand up, walk over to the creation, and cut a piece of it. And just a moment before, he had been sure he could die for her, and yet he could not stand up to his hostess over a confection.
     
    Susan took her resentment about King Arthur’s castle back to the ballroom. Her hand was claimed for the waltz by Sir Thomas Jeynes. He tried to flirt with her, but those blue eyes only looked vaguely up at him.
     
    “Is something troubling you?” he asked.
     
    “Yes, it is,” said Susan forthrightly. “That wonderful King Arthur’s castle is
not for eating
! Pooh, it is so ridiculous. I would have loved a piece.”
     
    “It is well known that the marchioness likes to display the confectioner’s art without serving any. Did you not have enough to eat?”
     
    “No,” said Susan bluntly. “I asked nice Mr. Courtney to try to get me a piece, but he could not.”
     
    “You should not ask callow youths to help you.”
     
    “Meaning you can?” Her eyes sparkled.
     
    “After this dance, instead of joining the promenade, we will repair to the dining room and you may eat your fill.”
     
    “And what will the marchioness say?”
     
    “She will not be there.”
     
    “Perhaps King Arthur’s castle has been removed?”
     
    “I doubt it. Most of the servants leave to have their own supper.”
     
    “And you are not afraid of abetting me in such a venture?”
     
    “I am afraid of nothing.”
     
    As soon as the last strains of the waltz died away, they walked together to the dining room.
     
    There was no one else there. Sir Thomas gave his wolfish grin and waved an expansive arm toward the castle.
     
    “All yours, dear lady.”
     
    He expected it to be a sort of girlish prank. Miss Colville would eat one of the little figures and giggle a bit at her temerity and then they would return to the ballroom before their absence had been remarked on.
     
    But Susan pulled forward a chair and sat down in front of the castle and rubbed her little hands. She carefully lifted up Sir Lancelot and ate him. “Delicious,” she murmured.
     
    Sir Thomas watched amazed as little figure after little figure disappeared into that rosebud mouth. It was when Susan began on the battlements that he became worried. “I think we should return,” he said.
     
    Susan paid him not the slightest bit of attention. Sir Thomas strolled to the door of the dining room and looked out. He saw that although sets were forming for a quadrille, Susan’s aunt, Miss Tremayne, was saying something to that rat Dangerfield, and they were looking his way. He quickly reentered the ballroom and asked a young lady to dance.
     
    “Where can she be?” Harriet was asking the earl. She turned to Charles Courtney, who was in the same set, and asked, “Have you seen my niece?”
     
    “Not since supper.” Charles hesitated and then said in a rush, “I disappointed her dreadfully.”
     
    “How so?”
     
    “Miss Colville wished to taste