by Tracy Fobes
She moved forward, wanting to comfort him and yet not knowing how to do so.
“You look delightful, Sarah,” the duke said, before she had taken more than a step. Taking a deep breath, he turned to his man of business and wagged a finger. “Are you ready to admit how wrong you were, Phineas?”
A grave smile lightened Phineas’s countenance. “Lady Sarah can be nothing but sparkling, Your Grace. She is, after all, your daughter.”
Sarah thought Phineas’ statement more courteous than heartfelt. Nevertheless, her cheeks warmed up beneath their admiring gazes. She sneaked a glance at the Earl of Cawdor, who had exchanged his riding clothes for a pair of butter-yellow breeches, gray jacket and light blue necktie. More light-hearted than formal, his attire reflected a teasing mood, as did his sly wink.
“Lady Sarah, ’tis a pleasure to see you looking so fine this morning, though I must say, I think I prefer the last outfit I saw you in,” he said, a provocative gleam in his eyes.
She swallowed. “Thank ye, my lord.”
“Call me Colin.”
The duke gestured abruptly for them all to sit down. “Colin, are you mad, preferring Sarah in those rags she was wearing yesterday?”
“She had a certain charm, the last time I saw her.” Colin took his seat and leaned back in his chair. He stretched, muscles bunching beneath his jacket and hinting at the power in his lithe body.
The duke raised an eyebrow. “And when was that?”
“I’m sae happy ye all approve of my gown,” Sarah cut in, recognizing danger in the duke’s line of questioning. She selected a chair near the duke and sat, trying not to stare at Colin. The more she looked, the more her heart thumped. “I feel strange, wearing such fine clothes.”
Phineas, too, took a seat. “They become you, my lady.”
Shortly afterward, a servant entered and began to place covered silver dishes on the sideboard. Steam rose from each dish, sending the smells of eggs, ham, beef, and freshly baked bread into the air. A serving girl poured coffee into the cup near Sarah’s elbow.
“You will have to become accustomed to many fine things, as the daughter of a duke,” Colin murmured, his expression deceptively angelic. “Such as bathing. Did you enjoy your bath last night?”
The duke narrowed his eyes at Colin.
Memories of the warm, silky feel of water sliding over her bare limbs, and the heady lavender mist in the air surfaced in Sarah’s mind. She surrendered to indulgence and stared at him. A master of the senses, he was. Nevertheless, she knew he wasn’t acting in an entirely proper manner, and she had no intention of allowing him to take advantage of her.
Sarah assumed the most innocent expression she possessed. “Is it nae rude tae inquire after a lady’s bath?”
“Yes, it is,” the duke confirmed. He sounded annoyed. “I don’t know what’s come over you, Colin. This recklessness will only land you in trouble.”
“Recklessness?”
“All of these veiled . . . innuendos you throw around.”
Colin snorted. “You’ve been out of circulation for too long. You forget what society is like. Think of my ‘style of conversation’ as a lesson for Sarah. She will have to learn how to counter such . . . innuendos at every party she attends. Plain speaking is definitely de trop.”
The duke nodded. He turned to Sarah. “He has a point, Sarah. His folly is our gain. He will teach you to spar.”
Her brows drew together in confusion.
“I’ll help sharpen your wit,” Colin clarified. “The wittier you are, the better. Indeed, with your fortune, you’ll be faced with more than your share of rakes. Perhaps I ought to play the part of rake, just for your enrichment.”
“’Tis a part you play so well,” the duke remarked. “Make certain you remember our earlier discussion.”
Colin stretched again. He appeared pleased with himself. Like a cat in the cream, Sarah mused.
“Go ahead, Colin,” she challenged him. “Pretend ye’re a rake. We’ll see how ye fare.”
A smile curled his lips upward. “Before we thrust and parry, we must refine your speech.”
She put a hand on her brow. She was beginning to feel giddy.
The duke leveled a searching look in her direction. “First, let’s enjoy breakfast. It’s easier to learn on a full stomach than an empty one.”
The servants, taking their cue from the duke, began to circulate around the table, offering sliced ham, eggs, porridge, fresh fruits, and other delicaies from their silver bowls. Her eyes wide at the variety, quantity, and quality of the food being offered to her, Sarah indicated for the servant to give her double helpings of everything. Then, her mouth watering, she stared down at her silverware. Forks and spoons of various sizes stared back at her. Which one should she use?
His own plate full, Colin selected a fork and began to eat. Watching closely, she picked up the same fork and tried to scoop some eggs up. Most of the eggs fell off the fork on their way to her mouth. Frustrated, she traded her fork for a spoon and had much more success.
Most farmers she knew eschewed forks for spoons. Only with a spoon could one scrape up every last drop of food from a plate. Forks were just too wasteful, and spoons also allowed one to eat faster. She’d learned early on that those who ate the fastest ate the best.
Sarah glanced around the dining room. Thoughts of home had left her feeling lonely, and never more so than now did she feel out of place. She was accustomed to rough stone walls, but here, delicate paintings of ferns and leaves, exquisite gilding, and geometric plastered designs covered nearly every exposed surface. The windows looked out upon manicured lawns instead of moors, and a crystal chandelier presided over the room, rather than oil lanterns that belched smoke.
“I’ve secured a French maid for you. She’s very accomplished. The Duchess of York has kindly offered to lend her to you. She’ll join our staff in a few months.” The duke paused in eating to offer Sarah a kindly smile. “Until then, Mrs. Fitzbottom will act as your lady’s maid. She knows the latest hairstyles, fashions, and all the other things so important to you women. The modiste, a Frenchwoman living in Edinburgh, will be coming along soon as well. I’ve already given her your approximate size. She’ll bring trunks of fabric along for you to select from.”
“Thank ye,” she murmured.
“I don’t know much about the latest fashions,” the duke admitted. “I’m hoping the modiste will outfit you properly. Perhaps Colin can assist.”
Colin’s attention darted toward her breasts before focusing on her lips. “It would be my pleasure.”
Sarah fought the urge to cover her cleavage with her hands. An aura of leashed male passion clung to him, a wickedness that continued to arouse lustful thoughts and desires inside her. Breathing quickly, she glanced downward and confirmed that a rosy blush now stained the tops of her breasts. With that knowledge came embarrassment, and with the embarrassment, an even deeper rosy blush.
“Also, you’ve received a letter from London.” The duke grasped a folded piece of parchment on a silver tray she hadn’t noticed before, and handed it to her.
Sarah took the letter, aware that Colin’s attention had yet to waver from her. “I dinna know anyone in London. Who is it from?”
“I suspect you will have to open it and read it to find out.”
She slipped the letter into her reticule, unwilling to admit that her reading skills were, at best, rudimentary. She knew enough to prevent the storekeeper in Beannach from cheating her, and nothing more. Mrs. Fitzbottom would have to read it to her later.
Fighting for nonchalance, she scooped up a few more spoonfuls of eggs and noticed Phineas watching her eat. She slowed down, her appetite dwindling, and stared at him, hard, hoping he would look somewhere else. He did. His gaze fell to her plate of food, lingering there before focusing on his own.
“Is something wrong, Mr. Graham?” she asked, her voice the only sound in the room other than silverware clattering against plates.
“
Not at all,” he replied. “I’m simply thinking about our first lesson. Perhaps we ought to begin now. We’re all just about finished with our breakfast.”
The duke wiped his lips with a napkin and threw it on the table. “In that case, I’ll bid you good morning and leave you alone. Colin, would you like to ride with me?”
“No, I’ll stay behind and observe Phineas’s lesson.”
The duke stood. “As you wish. I’ll be in the study afterward, if anyone needs me,” he said, and strode from the dining room.
Sarah put her spoon down. She wished Colin would leave as well. These thoughts he evoked in her both disturbed and annoyed her. Had she no control over herself? “Well, Mr. Graham, what do ye wish tae teach me?”
Phineas put his silverware down and daubed at his lips with a napkin. “First, you must learn to speak. You say ‘tae’ rather than ‘to,’ and ‘sae’ rather than ‘so,’ to begin. Try to say to. Tooooooo,” he drawled, his lips forming a pouchy circle. “As in fooooool.”
“Too-oooo,” she repeated, feeling like the fool he’d spoken of.
“And now so.”
“Sew, as in mending clothes?”
“Exactly.”
“So — ooooo,” she drawled, darting a glance at Colin. He was still looking at her with eyes like blue smoke, smoldering yet unreadable.
“Good. You’ve almost got it. Now you must simply remember not to slip back to tae and sae . You also say ‘ye’ instead of you, and ‘yer’ rather than your. These are both indications of the peasantry. Try to say them correctly, now.”
“Ye . . . or. Yeee . . . ou.”
“That’s close. Try again.”
“Yeor,” she said, a bit more forcefully. “Yeee . . . ou.”
Phineas sighed. “This will take time. Remember to practice.”
She shrugged, having no intentions of practicing. She just wanted to go home.
“There are other words that you must relearn as well, such as isn’t rather than ain’t, and of rather than o’. Sometimes you drop your f’s. And your h’s, for that matter.”
“I am a scandal,” she murmured.
“Overall,” Phineas continued in a dogged voice, “your tone has a kind of nasal quality that declares your farmhouse upbringing for all to hear. Speak softly, melodically, in the manner of a song.”
“Won’t you demonstrate what you mean, Phineas, and sing for us?” Colin interrupted.
Startled, Sarah met his gaze head-on. He smiled, his intensity evaporating beneath a playfulness she found even more disarming. All at once, she felt an answering chuckle building within her. She bit it back.
Phineas sighed, clearly nonplussed. “I suppose we ought to move on.”
Their movements unobtrusive, the servants began to clear the plates.
Colin sipped his coffee. “This is most entertaining. Phineas, when you pronounce to and so for Sarah, you look as though you’re angling for a kiss.”
The man of business sniffed and assumed an injured air. “If you’re going to have fun at my expense, my lord, I invite you to leave the room.”
“I’m sorry,” Colin said, with another sly wink in Sarah’s direction, which only Sarah could see. “I won’t offend you further.”
Phineas raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps I ought to put you to work.”
The other man shrugged. “I’m at your service. And Sarah’s.”
Sarah eyed him distrustfully. A lock of black hair had fallen across his brow in a rakish fashion, and his lower lip protruded. Kissing him, she decided, would prove very similar to being swept out to sea by an unexpected wave.
“I dinna mind if he helps,” she said, then damned herself for her weakness.
“Good.” Colin offered her a smile. “What shall I do?”
Phineas smirked. “I need a hostess. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
“Follow me out of the dining room, then. Lady Sarah, please come along.”
Sarah did as she was bid, and soon they had assembled outside the dining room door. The earl lounged a few feet away from her, his attention traveling from her slippers upward, to settle upon her face. Admiration glinted in his eyes.
“Now, let me begin by saying that only the unknown shakes one’s poise,” Phineas declared. “If one knows what to expect in these situations, one will remain at ease. First, we’ll examine the guest’s part in a formal dinner. I will be the host, and the earl, our hostess.”
“Colin, a hostess?” Sarah looked from Phineas to Colin. “Isn’t a ‘hostess’ a woman?”
“Today I am hostess,” Colin told her, grinning. “ ’Tis my punishment for impudence.”
Ignoring Colin, Phineas cleared his throat. “When it is time to go into dinner, the host offers his right hand to the female guest of honor and proceeds into the dining room.”
“Am I the female guest of honor?” Sarah asked.
“Indeed you are.” Phineas took her arm. “You and I go into the dining room first. The remainder of the guests follow us, excluding the hostess, who brings up the rear with the male guest of honor.”
Phineas glanced over his shoulder as they marched into the dining room. “Now it’s your turn, my lady,” he told Colin.
Pretending to hold someone’s arm, Colin sauntered into the dining room behind them.
“Now, the host and hostess stand behind their chairs —” Both Phineas and Colin took up post near chairs facing each other, at the opposite ends of the table. “— and the hostess indicates where each guest is to sit. Ladies approach their chairs from the left and sit from the left. Gentlemen seat the ladies to their right. The hostess is seated by the male guest of honor, and the host by the female guest of honor. Preferably the hostess should sit near the entrance through which the food will appear.”
Sarah pressed one hand to her forehead. She felt the beginnings of a headache. “That is a lot tae remember.”
“To, not tae,” Phineas chided. He gestured to a chair next to him. “As the female guest of honor, you must sit here, next to me.”
Sarah moved to the indicated seat.
“Now, there are exceptions to this seating protocol,” the man of business informed her, confusing her further. “Young engaged girls who are to be feted, dignitaries, people who have come a long distance and are rare visitors to the household . . . all must be considered on a case-by-case basis.”
“For now, why don’t we focus on the simplest situations,” Colin suggested, earning Sarah’s gratitude.
Phineas sighed. “If she is to be presented at court, she must learn all. We’ll practice eating now.”
“Heaven help me,” Sarah muttered.
They all sat down at the dining room table again. Phineas motioned to a footman standing in the corner. “Please bring out a single service, including silverware.”
The footman bowed and left the room.
“While he’s gone, I’ll explain the serving process.” Phineas leaned forward slightly. “The butler will take his stand behind the hostess. The only time he moves from his vantage point is to serve wine. In the meantime, servants — one per every four guests — ladle out portions of the course.
“After the majority of the guests are finished with a course, the butler will direct his staff to remove the plates. A good butler displays no sense of hurry at this juncture, and certainly no audible clatter or staff direction.”
Sarah could see that matters regarding etiquette were of life or death importance to him. She nodded, feigning appreciation, when in truth she thought these “dinner manners” a bunch of stuff and bother over a basic animal instinct: that of eating.
The footman reentered with a tray containing a plate and silverware before Phineas could launch into another diatribe.
“Set the service before Lady Sarah,” Phineas directed.
Silverware clattering, the footman set the plate, forks, knives, and spoons in front of her.
Colin yawned audibly. “Is this the way it’s going to go over the next
three months, Phineas? If so, I’m afraid Sarah and I will expire from boredom. I demand that we end this lesson soon, so I might take her riding. Remember, she has to tour the property, particularly if she will be managing it one day.”
“You are particularly subversive today, my lord,” Phineas remarked.
“Might we break the lesson up intae several parts?” Sarah questioned, her head beginning to pound. Phineas had a patronizing attitude about him and had managed to make her feel like a complete dolt. She checked the urge to march away from the older man and his silly lessons.
Phineas sighed. “I suppose I must. Still, there is so much you must learn, and so little time to learn it. I don’t know how we are going to teach you properly. Today, at breakfast, you took second portions. You must never take second portions or appear the glutton. You also must never assist in serving food, or smoke at the table, or greet servants, or try to wipe up spilled crumbs. These are but a few of the rules that you must live by or you’ll disgrace the duke.”
Sarah looked down at her place setting. Resentment burned in her gut. To her horror, she realized that tears were filling her eyes. Blinking rapidly, she forced them away. She’d be damned before she’d show any sort of weakness before this pair. “Sae what do I do with the forks and knives?”
Phineas groaned. “So, not sae.”
“So-oooo,” she amended, fighting for calm.
Lips pressed together, the man of business jabbed a finger at her plate. “This fork is for salad, and this one for the main course. This spoon is used for soup, and the other for stirring. You hold them like this, the knife and fork remaining in the same hand, Continental style . . .”
Sarah tried to mimic him and failed. Her fingers acted like thumbs. “I’ll need tae practice.”
“To, not tae.”
“I’m sorry.”
He appeared not to have heard her. “When you are done with your silverware, place them on the right side of the plate, sharp side of the blade facing in, the fork tines up, to the left of the knife.”
A scream of pure frustration built inside her. Although she was able to keep the scream from erupting, she couldn’t prevent herself from uttering a few heartfelt words. Hand clenched around a fork, she tried for an even tone. “I dinna understand why ye give trivial details such a high importance. Why should I care if I place my fork with its tines up or down?”
