“Isn’t it?” Boxing and fencing would be safer. One chose a single opponent and the match never lasted for more than an hour. “Teach me what to do at a dinner party.”
Theodore blinked. “A dinner party?”
Virginia nodded, not trusting herself to speak. If she explained her reasons, he might be the one to chuckle and think her peculiar.
With a single crutch under his arm, Theodore crossed to the closest bellpull and gave it a tug.
“How long will it take to prepare a four-course meal for two?” he asked the footman who answered the call.
“It needn’t be real food,” Virginia blurted out.
“Of course it does.” Theodore nodded to the footman. “Send the first course to the dining room as soon as it’s ready. We’ll start with a glass of wine.”
“At once.” The footman dashed from the room.
Theodore turned to Virginia. “Would you do me the honor of allowing me to accompany you, Miss Underwood?”
She hurried to the side without a crutch, careful not to touch him.
“Take my arm,” he whispered.
“I’ll unbalance you,” she whispered back.
His dark gaze heated her to her toes. “We’ll find a way to manage.”
She curved her fingers lightly about his arm. It was not the first time Society’s rules dictated she take a man’s elbow, but it was the first time she’d wanted to. The dark blue superfine of his jacket felt strange and inviting beneath her fingers.
They exited the front parlor at a slow, even pace, careful not to bump the walls or each other. When they reached the dining room, only the heads of the long table were set. Theodore had a footman move the place settings to the middle of the table, across from each other.
“We are not hosting,” he explained without forcing her to ask. “We are attending. If you need to host a party, we can practice that scenario tomorrow.”
“I will never host a party.” The words came out more vehement than Virginia had intended.
“Then this will do.” Theodore led her to a chair and did not take his until she was seated. “Now, when we look at our place settings, we see multiple forks and multiple spoons. The outermost silverware—”
“I know which fork does what,” Virginia said. “I’ve eaten food before.”
His brows rose. “My apologies. I did not realize the castle dining rooms were formal.”
They were not. Virginia’s parents had instructed their children in the proper use of silverware from the moment they were old enough to lift a fork. Mistakes were not tolerated.
“Perhaps we should start with the differences,” Theodore began anew. “Does the castle observe precise dining hours?”
She shook her head.
“Very well. A formal dinner party differentiates itself from more casual dining customs before any of the party has taken their seats. A strict order of precedence is observed, meaning the first to the table is always—”
“I know about precedence,” Virginia said. She could quote her mother’s lectures from memory. “I know about controlling invitations to maintain proper numbers, seating arrangements that alternate men and women, not using one’s gloves at the dinner table.”
Theodore leaned back. “What exactly do you need me to teach you?”
“What tosay.” The back of her throat grew thick. “What to do. How to be.”
Every day that she’d lived here in Christmas, she had longed to take part in the year-round holiday fun. Her fear of ruining the moment for others, of being overwhelmed by her senses, of not knowinghowto take part had kept her from trying. She yearned for that to change.
He gazed at her for a long moment. “I gather you’re not referring to the manners one might discover in a book on comportment.”
She shook her head. If only it were that simple. “I’ve read all of those. Primogeniture, politesse, mind one’s parents, never go outside without a bonnet. But the rules that seem to matter most are the unspoken ones no one bothers to teach.”
