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.

GABBY’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 complimenting her on the ravishing ensemble that someone named Lady Holland had worn to the duke’s birthday the previous day. Madame Carême appeared not to have noticed Gabby’s presence beyond a nod of greeting. And Phoebe might have been invisible.

Gabby sighed and looked about. One side of the room was bedecked with mirrors. Phoebe was sitting primly in a chair next to the maid who had accompanied them, so Gabby wandered over to the mirrors. To her amusement, she found that they were arranged in a kind of three-way style so that a person standing before them could see her front and both sides at the same time.

As she looked into the mirrors, Madame Carême and Peter came up behind her. Madame Carême gave her a much nicer smile than she had at first and took her hand. “I must apologize,” she said. “I had no idea that you were Monsieur Dewland’s affianced bride.”

Gabby smiled back. It was nice to know that Peter was so esteemed.