Miranda followed suit, watching as Iris folded her hands in her lap. She cast a glance to the viscount, who seated himself last. His frame made the chair appear small in comparison. He cleared his throat while the footman placed a steamed beef consommé before each of them. Miranda glanced at Iris, watching to make sure she waited to lift her spoon till the viscount did it first. Iris’s gaze lifted to Miranda, clearly awaiting instruction. When the viscount lifted his spoon, Miranda did the same and inclined her head toward Iris, who mirrored her actions.
“Is dinner often this formal for you ladies?” he asked after swallowing. His caramel gaze inquired of Miranda just as much as his words.
Miranda swallowed her own mouthful and nodded before responding. “Indeed, my lord. This is the best way for Miss Iris to practice her table etiquette.”
“Ah, I see,” he remarked, then continued with his soup.
Miranda did as well, watching as Iris ate with perfect manners.
As the minutes stretched on, Miranda’s nerves grew tighter. This was the most dreadful dinner party she’d experienced in some time.
Granted, it wasn’t exactly a dinner party, but the least the viscount could do was initiate conversation.
Usually, she’d have no qualms about starting it herself, but she didn’t want to overstep.
As another silent minute passed, and the soup bowls were removed, Miranda took matters into her own hands.
“Usually, conversation would begin with discussing the weather, or possibly a current play at Drury Lane. I’ll start.” Miranda waited a moment while the footman placed the second course before them. The scent of roasted venison and potatoes made her mouth water.
“Have you seen Kean’s newest performance of Hamlet?” she asked Iris.
The viscount gave a low chuckle.
Miranda glanced to him, tempted to raise a brow of inquiry, but chose to offer a smile instead. “Ah, you have, my lord?”
His manner shifted to amusement, and he tilted his head as he reclined in his chair slightly. “I have. But it wasn’t nearly as brilliant as his first, Shylock.”
Miranda nodded, taking a sip of water, then replied, “I wasn’t blessed to see that performance but read the reviews in theTimes. Quite an enthusiastic response.”
“The house went mad.” The viscount gave his head a little shake. “But my favorite performance was Macbeth.”
Miranda’s grin widened. “I am quite fond of that performance myself. I attended the evening the front stage light caught an actor’s costume on fire! Thankfully, it was put out almost immediately. I don’t believe the man was injured.”
The viscount leaned forward, his brow furrowing. “I attended that night too. Did you hear, they are now considering renovating the lights to the new gaslights?”
Miranda shook her head, intrigued. “No! I hadn’t heard that! My sister—” She paused, then continued. “My sister mentioned there had been titter about the potential risks with candles. There have been several fires.”
“Sister?” The viscount’s eyes betrayed his interest, and Miranda’s inclination was to retreat from the conversation. Yet if she did, wouldn’t he suspect something? Did it matter? Wasn’t Liliah supposed to disclose their secret soon?
She resolved to soldier on, and hopefully avoid speaking any lies that would need to be unwound in the future. “Yes, I have an elder sister.” She kept her expression open and turned to Iris. “See, Miss Iris, this is a brilliant example of dinner conversation.”
Miranda’s face heated with a blush as Iris’s gaze slid from hers to the viscount, then back. “I see.”
Miranda didn’t know what she saw, but she was sure she wouldn’t approve of it.
“Well, in India there are several different ways to keep candles from becoming too dangerous, but there is no gaslighting, at least that I saw. However, they do have the most beautiful lamps.”
“Very good.” Miranda nodded. “My lord, have you ever visited India?” She turned back to the viscount, thankful to direct the conversation to a different venue.
His gaze was studying hers, as if attempting to read her thoughts to answer whatever questions his mind had conjured up from their previous conversation. The intense look faded, and he gave a dismissive gesture with his hand. “I’ve never been that far East. But I’ve read several journals of notable explorers.”
Miranda turned to Iris.
Iris glanced to Miranda.
Miranda glanced to the viscount.
Apparently, she was going to have to save the flow of the conversation once more.
